Kinda like a umm highschool romance , extrovert! Martin x introvert Y/N , fluff , awkward confession , friends to lover , classmates to lover , my boy Martin got sum rizzzz.
It was the kind of late afternoon where the sun stretched across the classroom floors like melted gold. Dust hung in the air, glowing gently in the light that poured through the big art club windows. The faint hum of a camera charging filled the room, mixed with quiet chatter and the sound of paper shuffling.
Y/N sat in her usual corner, sketchbook open, earbuds in but no music playing — she liked the illusion of being busy. Her pencil danced over the page, drawing random shapes, messy lines, nothing serious.
She wasn’t the loudest person in the room — actually, most people barely noticed her unless they needed a pencil, or someone to quietly edit their photo project. But she didn’t mind it. Being unnoticed meant peace.
Until Martin Edward walked in.
“Yo, is this the art club?” he’d said that first day, standing in the doorway with his backpack slung over one shoulder, hair slightly messy in the way that looked unintentional but kind of perfect.
The club president — a senior named Irene — waved him in. “Yeah, come on. You’re new, right? Transfer student?”
“Yup. Just moved here last week.”
He had this lightness to his voice — like he found everything funny, even the way people looked at him when he smiled.
That was two weeks ago. And somehow, in those two weeks, Martin had managed to fit in like he’d been there all along. Not popular, but everyone liked him. He joked easily, helped set up the camera stands, and had this habit of saying things that made people laugh without trying.
Y/N didn’t talk to him much. She’d nod if he waved, maybe say “hey” if they were setting up a backdrop together. But there was something about him that she noticed when she thought no one was watching — the way he’d hum to himself while adjusting the lighting, the way his eyes softened when he looked at the club’s photos, or how he’d crouch down to help fix a prop with quiet care.
He wasn’t loud all the time — he just seemed like he was.
And that made him kind of dangerous for someone like Y/N.
One Thursday, the club was working on their “Seasons” photo series — the kind of thing where students took photos to represent spring, summer, autumn, and winter. They’d already done autumn. Today was winter.
The art room smelled like paint and fabric, and someone was dragging out boxes of fake snow. Irene was shouting orders from the corner.
“Martin, check the camera battery!”
“Y/N, can you handle the light reflection boards?”
“Got it,” Y/N said softly, standing up and going to the corner where Martin was fiddling with a DSLR.
He looked up when she approached. “Oh hey, Y/N. You do the reflection stuff, right? You’re like the quiet tech master.”
She smiled faintly. “Something like that.”
Martin grinned. “Cool. I’ll try not to break anything before you fix it.”
They set things up in comfortable silence, only interrupted by Irene yelling about props.
When everything was finally done, the room turned cozy — the fake snow sparkled under the warm studio lights. A few members took turns posing for test shots, giggling when the flash went off.
Y/N stayed behind the camera, adjusting the exposure. Martin leaned in to watch the screen.
“Whoa,” he said softly. “You’re actually really good at this.”
She blinked, startled. “Thanks, I guess.”
He tilted his head at her. “You don’t guess. You are.”
She smiled at him and he smiled so big back.
Her cheeks warmed, and she focused hard on the screen again, pretending to adjust something that didn’t need adjusting.
Later, when everyone started cleaning up, Irene clapped her hands. “Okay! One last thing — we got a new Photo Booth backdrop donated from the photography department. Let’s test it out before we go!”
The club members cheered. Y/N didn’t — she was tired and wanted to go home.
The Photo Booth stood at the corner of the room — a little box with a curtain, soft light, and a remote clicker that automatically snapped pictures in pairs.
“Who wants to go first?” Irene grinned.
Martin raised his hand instantly. “I’m in! Who’s coming with me?”
Everyone suddenly became very interested in their bags. And the wall seems so interesting and misses their dog .
Martin turned to the nearest person — Y/N. “Hey, what about you? You helped set all this up. It’s only fair.”
“Yeah. C’mon. Just one photo.”
The others started cheering him on. “Go, Martin! Get the quiet one out of her shell! Y/N GOOOOO”
Y/N sighed, trying not to show how her heart had just started beating faster. “Fine. One, Edward”
He smiled “call me Martin “ and winked.
They stepped into the booth. The curtain fell shut behind them, closing them off from the noise outside. The space felt smaller than she expected — their shoulders brushed slightly.
Martin laughed nervously. “Man, this thing’s tiny. Okay, ready?”
Y/n laughed “maybe u r just big , ur 6’3 ass need to sit down”
“Ok ms I am so smalll” he laughed and bite bark .he laughs as he reached out for the button .
The camera flashed, capturing their startled faces.
The next flash caught them mid-laugh — her eyes crinkled slightly, his head tilted toward her.
The third one flashed just as she turned to him, maybe to say something — but when she looked, Martin was already looking at her.
And for that brief second, something changed in his expression. The teasing faded. His smile softened. His eyes lingered — warm, gentle, and unmistakably in love.
The fourth flash went off before she could move.
They stepped out of the booth, blinking from the brightness.
“Let’s see how they turned out,” Irene said, snatching the printout that slid from the machine.
“Oh my God, this looks so cute!” one member squealed. “Look at the last one — Martin, you look like you’re about to kiss her …?”
“Martin …..do you-“ Irene asked .
“What—” Martin said, grabbing for the photo, but it was too late. Everyone was laughing now.
Y/N felt her stomach flip. She leaned over to look.
In the last photo, she was slightly turned toward him, her eyes surprised, lips parted — and Martin was looking right at her, gaze soft, eyes filled with something she didn’t expect to see directed at her.
It didn’t look like a joke. It looked real.
He quickly took the printout and folded it into his pocket, laughing it off. “Haha, yeah, must’ve been bad timing, huh?”
The others teased him a little more, but soon everyone packed up and left.
When they were finally alone in the clubroom, Y/N gathered her sketchbook quietly.
Martin scratched the back of his neck, still looking embarrassed. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to make it weird.”
“It’s fine,” she said softly, not looking at him. “It was just a photo.”
“Yeah,” he said, but his voice came out smaller than usual. “Just a photo.”
She started walking toward the door, but before she could reach it, he spoke again.
He was standing near the booth, holding the folded photo in his hands, expression thoughtful. “Can I ask you something?”
He took a step closer. “Do you… ever feel like the camera catches stuff that people don’t want to say out loud?”
Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
He smiled a little, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Like, sometimes you look at a picture, and it shows something you didn’t even realize was showing. A look, or a feeling, or a thought you shouldn’t have let out.”
She didn’t answer. The silence stretched between them — not awkward, just heavy.
Then he sighed, shaking his head. “Never mind. I sound crazy. Forget it it’s okay y/n” he smiles like his old teasing self and acted like nothing happened.
Before he could walk past her, she said quietly, “You don’t.”
Y/N hesitated, then added, “I saw the photo too.”
“And I don’t think it was just timing , Edward”
“It is Martin” He corrected and
For a heartbeat, he didn’t say anything — just stared at her like he couldn’t believe she said it. Then he gave a small laugh, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re really going to make me admit it and say it out loud, huh?”
Her lips twitched. “Maybe.”
He took a deep breath, stepping closer. The distance between them was barely a few inches now.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Then… yeah. I like you, Y/N. I’ve liked you since the day I joined this club. You’re quiet, but it’s the kind of quiet that feels… peaceful. You make things better without even saying much. And every time you focus on something — the camera, your sketches, anything — I just— I don’t know you looks so cute and all like ur voice sounds nice , I go crazy every time u call me Edward Martin , Martin Edward I dun care just call me and all I -” He stopped, smiling helplessly.
Y/N blinked, her heart pounding. She cut off “You… like me? For real? It’s not just a joke …”
She let out a shaky breath. “I thought you were just nice to everyone.”
“I am,” he said with a grin. “But not that nice.”
She couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re cute when you laugh.”
Her face burned instantly. “Don’t—”
He raised his hands, pretending surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop.”
Silence filled the room again, but this time it was warm.
Y/N looked at him, really looked — his messy hair, the light freckles near his nose, the way his eyes always seemed to smile before his mouth did. And suddenly, she realized she’d been watching him too, even if she hadn’t admitted it until now.
“Martin,” she said quietly.
He blinked. “You… want it?”
He pulled it from his pocket and handed it to her. The print was slightly wrinkled from being folded, but the image still glowed — their laughter frozen in the first few frames, and that last one, where everything had changed.
Y/N smiled faintly. “It’s a good photo.”
“Yeah,” he said softly, looking at it too. “My favorite, actually.”
She glanced at him. “You keep it.”
His eyebrows raised. “Really?”
“Yeah,” she said. “So you can remember that your timing wasn’t wrong.”
He stared at her for a second, then broke into the biggest grin she’d ever seen. “That sounded like a confession.”
She laughed quietly, looking away. “Maybe it was.”
He leaned forward a little, voice dropping. “Then maybe I should say it back properly.”
Her eyes flicked up to meet his — bright, warm, and sincere.
“I like you, Y/N,” he said again, softer this time. “Not just in photos.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Then maybe you should take another one.”
He blinked. “Another photo?”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling. “You know, for evidence.”
He laughed, grinning like an idiot. “Alright. But this time, I’m making it count.”
They stepped back into the Photo Booth, curtain falling shut behind them.
The little screen blinked: Ready in 3… 2… 1…
Martin looked at her, his smile gentle now. “Y/N?”
The flash went off just as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.
She froze, eyes wide — then the second flash caught her mid-blush, laughing quietly.
By the time the last flash went off, Martin was smiling like he’d just found something he’d been looking for all along.
When they stepped out, the new photo slid out from the slot.
In the first one, he was kissing her cheek.
In the second, she was laughing.
In the third, they were both smiling — the kind of smile that only happens when you stop pretending.
Martin looked at her shyly. “Can I keep this one too?”
She smiled, shaking her head. “We’ll share it.”
From then on, the art club started teasing them — but it didn’t matter. Martin still cracked jokes, still helped everyone out, but now he’d glance at Y/N across the room, and she’d smile back.
Sometimes, when no one was looking, he’d sneak over and whisper something like, “You know, I still think the first photo’s my favorite.”
And she’d whisper back, “Then maybe we should take a few more until you change your mind.”
And the Photo Booth became their place — where quiet met laughter, and one picture had said everything words never could.
Tag list @sncrity @pookiebearone @i0896k @fleurenjun
Let me know if I guys want like part 2 or smt ? Idk have no idea for pt 2 but like if u want to see bf!martin x artist!y/n i can write more yk aheheheh love ya guysss for reading mwahhhh
