Chapter Text
Warning ‼️
English is NOT my first language
Hopefully you guys enjoy this story
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Pairing: Tim "Avicii" Bergling × Martin Garrix/Martjin Garritsen
Warnings:
· OOC, timeline inconsistencies, fictional elements
· Martin is gay, Tim is bi
· HE, HE, HE, feel free to enjoy
Summary: Martin Garrix gets stranded in Oslo on a snowy night, but accidentally discovers a secret that has been hidden for many years.
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——Main Text——
1.
Ladies and gentlemen, we regret to inform you that due to extreme weather conditions, your flight from Los Angeles, USA to Stockholm, Sweden will be temporarily diverted to Oslo. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause. If there are any updates regarding takeoff, we will notify you immediately.
Qatar Airways Crew
February 4, 2018
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2.
"Holy shit! You see this?" Alesso woke Martin, who was dozing off, and showed him his phone screen. The weather forecast predicting five consecutive days of heavy snow had already irritated both musicians who had just finished performances in North America and were planning to return to Europe together. Now this diversion information was like a thunderbolt.
"Diverted to where?" Martin rubbed his redrimmed eyes groggily, still seeming out of it.
"Norway, Oslo." Alesso replied helplessly, already starting to check itineraries. He just wanted to get home and sleep for over ten hours now.
"Why are you checking flights back to Stockholm? Shouldn't we book a hotel first?" Martin stared at the plane's screen for a while, then turned to see Alesso's fingers constantly typing, feeling speechless.
"Hotels are definitely fully booked by now. We won't be able to get one."
"But there are no flights right now either?"
"Then what do we do? Sleep at the airport?"
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3.
Martin exhaled a cold breath, tightened his coat collar, and pressed his phone to his ear:
"Kygo! Have you arrived at the airport? It's so cold outside."
"Turn right at Gate 4 and you'll see me!" The other end of the phone was chaotic—so many flights were diverting here that the airport hall was in complete disorder, making it impossible for them to hear each other.
Dressed in autumn clothes, Martin groggily pushed his luggage out of the airport with Alesso. Thanks to their longtime friend Kygo being home recently, they had a local to host them and didn't have to sleep on the streets.
Snowflakes hit the luggage handles with faint crackling sounds. The two stood side by side at the airport exit, their exhaled white breath scattering immediately in the strong wind—it was the polar winter Norwegians knew all too well. Martin's nose was running from the cold. He suddenly felt a bit of admiration for Tim—giving up Los Angeles with its spring-like weather year-round and coastline to return to this climate in Northern Europe. He couldn't handle it himself. Wait, thinking about his crush while nearly freezing to death wasn't a good idea. As the saying goes, a calm heart brings coolness—it doesn't mean a warm heart brings warmth. Besides, Tim always ignored him, so his heart wasn't particularly warm either—stop it, Martin, if you keep thinking, you'll really freeze to death.
Winter in Oslo was like another world. Pale gray skies grounded everything. The fjords and main roads were covered in thin ice, yet that didn't stop residents from going out. The streets were bustling with traffic. Fortunately, it was late at night when they arrived, so there weren't many people at the exit. Soon they reached the apartment.
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4.
"Welcome to my place—make yourselves at home."
"Mind if I shower first? I feel like the snow has pierced into my skin." Alesso tried to shake off the thin layer of snow covering his trench coat, which even had frost on it. He was only wearing a t-shirt he'd bought locally in Los Angeles. Thank goodness for Kygo's car heater set to 30 degrees, otherwise tomorrow's headlines would read "Internationally renowned DJ found frozen to death on Oslo streets."
"The bathroom is on the left. I'll find you some pajamas in a moment." Kygo, covered in dust, picked up a broom nearby. "The guest room has two folding beds—it was converted from my study. You can rest there tonight. Let me go clean it up first."
"I'll help!" Martin grabbed another mop and quickly followed Kygo upstairs. The real reason was that he needed some activity to warm his body—the cold here was making him despair.
The guest room door opened, and the air smelled of old paper. The room had no air conditioning but was still warmer than outside. Dust had settled in some window cracks, but the floor and beds were neatly cleaned.
By the bed sat an old wooden chest, revealing yellowed pages and faded bookmarks with traces of time, obviously sealed away for many years.
"What's this?" Martin asked him.
"Oh, a few years ago when Tim and I collaborated on performances and toured in Norway, he stayed at my place for a few days. He was seeing a psychologist then. The doctor asked him to draw some pictures to express his feelings. Later he forgot to take them, and I never threw them away—just piled them all here." Kygo didn't turn around. He lifted out the wooden chest to show Martin.
Why didn't he come stay at my place when he did his Amsterdam show? was Martin's first thought, but he wouldn't voice such a strange idea. His crush on Tim was known to no one. Sometimes he even fooled himself—it's just friendship, just mutual admiration—but that only happened in the first year he liked Tim, the year they collaborated on "Waiting for Love."
But Martin quickly accepted that he loved an ordinary colleague. He loved Tim's unique dry humor, his patience, kindness, calmness—the cold shoulder incidents didn't count. They'd once argued about whether to add drums to a pre-chorus. Martin went home, ate a meal, and automatically got over it, but Tim ignored him for five whole days. In the end, Martin had to initiate the reconciliation.
Well, I'll let him off this time. I don't mind, Martin told himself.
He had been loved since childhood, which made him someone who knew how to respond, so he could give plenty of love to others too. Besides this unrequited love, Martin's world contained wonderful family and friendships. Actually, he received love from many people around him every day, which reduced the pain of his romantic disappointment. But caring about Tim had become a habit—one that didn't count costs. He always enjoyed learning about Tim's past. He had long decided that even if Tim only ever saw him as an ordinary colleague, he would never regret everything he'd done.
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5.
"Can I take a look?" Martin carefully lifted the dusty plastic covering.
"Sure, but it's all in Swedish. I don't understand it and never looked it up." Kygo said as he helped open the combination lock, revealing some cards and drawings inside.
"No problem—we have someone here who can understand." Martin pinched his nose and brushed off the dust covering the top.
There was a thick stack of cards with writing in the box, but only two drawings. Martin picked up one, which appeared to show several small rivers surrounded by colorful buildings. In the center stood a blonde young man, with two lines of tiny handwriting below in blue watercolor.
"'MARTY'? I think I see my name." Martin pulled this drawing from the box, stood up, and examined it under the dim lamp. "Look at the title here—that's my name, right? What does this following sentence mean?" He moved closer to Kygo, pointing at the letters.
"I can't read it..." Kygo took the paper and examined it carefully. "Maybe it's expressing cherishing his friendship with you?"
"Oh." This piqued Martin's strong curiosity. What couldn't Tim say to his face that he had to write on paper and lock in a box? Could it be secretly complaining that he'd added the drums after all? Taking advantage of the dim room light, he secretly slipped the card into his sleeve. "Where's the kitchen? There's too much dust here—I need to wash my hands."
"Straight ahead, by the balcony."
Martin quickly walked to the kitchen, leaned against the closed window, and searched for a translator on his phone, trying to input the letters inside.
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Swedish to English conversion
Jag är mycket lidande idag, för jag tycker att jag har fallit för en man, men jag vet inte vad jag ska göra.
I'm in great pain today because I think I've fallen in love with a man, but I don't know what to do.
"?" Martin hesitated for a few seconds, then switched the translator to another mode.
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Swedish to Dutch conversion
Jag är mycket lidande idag, för jag tycker att jag har fallit för en man, men jag vet inte vad jag ska göra
Ik ben vandaag heel erg ongelukkig, want ik denk dat ik verliefd ben geworden op een man, maar ik weet niet wat ik moet doen.
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"What do you mean, 'I've fallen in love with a man'?" Martin felt his heart beating extremely irregularly. At this moment, he simultaneously doubted both the translator's intelligence and his native language proficiency.
What if the translator was wrong? What if it's because I've been using English for performances and communication for so long?
He typed the Swedish sentence into his phone memo, then quietly folded the card in half and slipped it into his pocket. He returned to the living room to watch TV until Alesso came out of the shower.
"I found a few flights back." Taking advantage of Kygo frying chicken, Martin pulled out the room's only Swede.
"It's cold outside." The two stepped outside, and Alesso immediately regretted not wearing a sweater. "Let me see—we can fly tomorrow?"
"Wait, can you help me understand what this sentence means?" Martin showed him the memo with a serious expression, trying to keep his voice steady, though his hands holding the phone were still trembling.
Alesso took the phone and frowned at it for a few seconds.
"'I'm in great pain today because I've fallen in love with a man, but I don't know what to do.'" Alesso read it out directly, somewhat confused. "Who wrote this to you?"
"What kind of love?" Martin ignored the latter question.
"The romantic kind, kind of 'love,' not like or interest," Alesso said. "Who confessed to you?"
Martin didn't speak again. His mind went blank. He quickly returned to the room and pulled Kygo, who was adding butter to the seasoning box, into the living room. Amid the two's confused expressions, he showed them the card and spread it flat on the dining table.
"What's this?" Alesso asked.
"The card we found earlier—the one Tim wrote. What does this sentence mean?" Kygo leaned in again, frowning and examining it carefully.
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"Tim wrote this?? You showed him?!"
"What's wrong? What does this sentence mean?"
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"He says he loves me." Martin summarized helplessly, then covered his face and collapsed onto the sofa. He needed time to process this.
Then came a long silence. Martin sank into the soft fabric, trying to quickly accept this fact. Is this a prank? Didn't Tim have girlfriends before? If he likes me, why didn't he tell me? Even if he wouldn't tell me, why has he always kept such distance? How severe is his illness, really? Martin felt his head was a complete mess. He needed to quickly—wait, he almost forgot there were two other people in the room. Why weren't they speaking? Wasn't this shocking news?
He looked up at Kygo, who wasn't surprised but avoided his gaze, then at Alesso, who was lost in thought, and suddenly understood something. He didn't want to suspect, nor dare to confirm. Actually, he felt he'd lost the ability to speak normally.
His eyes darted between the two, unsure where to focus. Chair legs scraped against the floor with harsh sounds. One minute, ten minutes—no one cared.
After a long while, he finally asked:
"You two... knew about this before?"
Kygo was startled by his sudden outburst: "Uh... I discovered it by accident too, but he wouldn't let us tell you. Before that, Sonny* even..."
"Sonny?? Who else knows?" Martin abruptly interrupted him.
"No one else, just us three." Kygo explained helplessly. Martin was like a powder keg now—it seemed to automatically ignite and explode before you even realized what you were saying. "Tim only told me; the other two figured it out themselves." He added weakly.
"He wouldn't let you tell me?"
"...He didn't want to involve you."
"Involve? This counts as involving? What kind of involving is this?"
"Calm down first." Alesso, who had been silent, suddenly spoke. "He's sick, and you know that."
"I have to go to him!"
"Are you crazy? He's in America. All these flights are grounded. How will you get there?"
"I don't care if flights are grounded or not! He's my boyfriend! He needs someone by his side, and you two—no, three—have deprived me of the right to be with him from start to finish!"
"What did you say?" Kygo froze. Things had developed beyond anything he'd imagined.
"Can't you hear? I've liked him since I was eighteen!" All flights on his phone showed red alerts. Martin was both frustrated and anxious, stomping hard on the spot as if about to cry.
"We apologize to you, Martin, but calm down first. You can't fly out in this weather. Tonight, you can think carefully about what you want to say to him—how to say it so he'll accept it more easily. Tomorrow I'll book you a plane ticket. I definitely know more than you about flying from Oslo." Kygo stepped forward, supporting his shoulders and settling him on the sofa. "You can't see Tim like this."
Martin ultimately took the advice of his two friends (or rather, from that day on, his self-appointed enemies blocking his emotional progress) and stayed overnight in Oslo to think about his strategy. He was nineteen, had never been in love, and after all was still somewhat impulsive.
He thought all night about everything between them. Those glances, those heart-to-heart talks, those memories in the recording studio. Why hadn't he noticed anything before? And how could Tim bear to never actively reach out to him all these years?
I have to get to the bottom of this!
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5.
USA, California, Los Angeles
"This part needs changing too..." Tim leaned back in his studio chair, propping his chin on his hand as he worked on files. He'd been stayed there all day. California's spring-like climate and beach scenery hadn't encouraged his enthusiasm for real life by one bit. He just wanted to prepare for his new album while still in his inspiration period
The room door opened right on cue. Tim didn't need to think about who it was.
"Jaden, I told you, I don't want to eat anything right now. Stop bringing chicken in here. Looking at them makes me feel so sick—"
Tim irritably pulled the blanket covering him higher. He really disliked being disturbed while working, especially since ten people had already urged him to eat today.
To his surprise, he didn't hear the sound of a plate being set down or the door closing. The person behind him just stood there quietly.
"Tim."
Tim dropped his stylus and turned around, startled. A person who shouldn't be here was standing alive and well before him, though with messy hair and dark circles.
"Martin?" Tim spoke the name hesitantly. He didn't know what he was afraid of—whether it was fear that this was a dream brought on by exhaustion or medication, or fear that this was his life flashing before his eyes?
Martin walked up to him, slowly crouched down, and placed the plate with chicken and vegetables in his hands.
"Tim, eat something. Your team downstairs said you haven't eaten all day."
The young man's eyes were full of concern and expectation, but not like a boy as yesterday ,replaced by determination. Tim felt inexplicably guilty under his gaze.
He took the fork from Martin, reluctantly stabbed a piece of meat, and suddenly found that food wasn't as hard to swallow as he'd imagined. But their current position was making him uncomfortable.
"Martin, get up first..." He adjusted his sitting position awkwardly, trying to avoid any physical contact with the person before him. "And stop staring at me like that. It's weird."
"Does me staring at you like this make you overthink things?"
"Overthink what?"
"I'll tell you if you eat all your food."
"Then I don't want to know anymore." Tim glanced at him, pushed his chair back, stood up, and walked to the other side of the workspace to eat.
Martin quickly followed, sitting cross-legged on the carpet facing Tim, and unsurprisingly received another eye-roll.
"Did you come straight from your tour?"
"I was trying to fly back to Amsterdam yesterday but got stranded in Oslo. Slept at Kygo's place."
"I remember he's been preparing for his summer tour recently?"
"Yeah, he even asked what you were doing. I said I didn't know, but you must be super busy."
"I really am busy." Tim showed Martin his computer screen piled with documents. "But how did you guess?"
"Did I need to guess? You never have time for me." Martin changed his sitting position and answered seriously in a tone Tim found suspiciously flirtatious.
Tim briefly reviewed recent social memories and decided to play dumb: "I haven't checked messages much lately. What, did you need something from me?"
"I can't look for you if I don't need anything?" Martin immediately retorted.
"You're that bored? You should really find a girlfriend."
"I don't like women." Martin said flatly, his tone completely even, as if discussing whether his morning coffee should be an Americano or cappuccino.
"Oh." Tim's heart sank, but he showed no surprise. He regretted asking that question.
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The room fell into an awkward silence. To outsiders, it might seem uncomfortable, but they both knew exactly what was happening.
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"Are you curious who I like, Tim?" Martin suddenly asked quietly.
"Not curious." Tim responded quickly.
Martin changed position, half-kneeling practically against Tim's knee: "If you're not curious, then stop picking at your hands. You're about to break the skin." Martin grasped Tim's wrist, touching the red marks on his skin. His fingertips still carried a trembling coolness.
"Get off, get off. " Tim irritably stayed away the young man's grip. At this point, he finally understood Martin's sudden purpose in coming to Los Angeles. Of course he knew the answer, but he didn't dare hear it, because for many years he'd been afraid—afraid the weight of that answer would crush them both into an uncontrollable abyss.
"Tim, I want to stay with you forever. Is that okay?" Martin said softly.
His eyes held not a junior's reverence for a senior, not a friend's concern for a friend, not even mere affection, but the purest desire—one man for another.
Tim should have realized sooner. The boy he loved was no longer eighteen. He had grown into a man.
He withdrew his hand: "This won't work, Martin... And how do you know I'd like you back?"
Martin pulled the now-wrinkled card from his coat pocket and showed it to him with an extremely innocent expression.
F U C K
Tim cursed Kygo ten thousand times in his heart.
He finally raised his gaze, his eyes misted over, distinct in the dim light like Stockholm's winter frost.
"Martin, listen to me. I'm many years older than you, and I have severe... self-destructive tendencies. You're only twenty-two. You won't be happy with me."
"If I'm not with you, I'll be even unhappier. Tim, before when I watched your documentary, do you know what I thought when I saw you arguing endlessly with your team about performances? I know they have their own work and difficulties. But if I were by your side, I'd take you back to my apartment in Amsterdam, not let anyone disturb you, let you sleep for over ten hours properly. Then I'd cancel my summer tour, and we could travel around the world—wherever you want to go, I'll be with you, as long as you're willing. Tim, music is supposed to make us happy. If you can't find joy in music, let's live a different life. Seeing you lose your sense of being alive during performances truly breaks my heart. I'd rather you'd never chosen music, even if that meant we'd never meet."
"Tim... I love you, I really love you. Give us a chance..." Martin's voice choked, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I want to be with you... I don't want you to be alone..."
"Don't cry, Marty. Get up first." Tim wiped his tears with his hand, but they seemed never-ending.
Martin brought Tim's hand covering his face to his lips, kissing it again and again. He tasted his own tears, then kiss him so softly as if licking and biting were instinctive ways to vent emotions.
But Tim just watched calmly, seemingly without emotional fluctuation—if one ignored the tears unconsciously flowing down his own cheeks.
"Tim, I don't want to lose you... never..." Martin choked. He couldn't imagine life without Tim. They had just found each other, yet now seemed about to be separated again.
"Martin, listen to me. You'll be flying around the world for tours, attending various business events. I can handle myself. You really don't need to—"
"You're doing it again!" Martin suddenly jumped up from the chair. "Why do you always decide everything yourself? You hid this from me unilaterally for so many years, and now you want to leave alone again?"
"Someday you'll definitely grow tired of this. I don't want our relationship to reach the day it falls apart." Tim closed his eyes and said softly. When the man you've loved for years stands before you saying he'll be with you forever, and you can't accept it—isn't that an even deeper torment?
"I won't, Tim. Trust me, everything will be okay, alright?" Martin stepped forward, grasping Tim's trembling fingers, then interlocking them with his own. "Let me love you. Let me be with you."
Tim looked into Martin's eyes welling up into a long time quiet
Of course he loved Martin. But did he still have the capacity to love another? He never thought this question would actually confront him one day. Tim thought helplessly. He could no longer find meaning in real life. He always tried to grasp something to bring himself back to reality, only to be met with another wave of emptiness.
He couldn't become someone's partner in this state—that would be irresponsible to both him and them. But this was Martin. Four years, he'd repeatedly convinced himself—he's just an innocent child. Over time, Tim accepted this fact. Just as he was finally filling himself up inside, Martin had forcibly torn open a wound again.
Since childhood, all love around him seemed conditional. Once he lost his anything he lost the right to be cared for. These years, he often felt powerless. He couldn't even remember how that teenage version of himself had lived.
When he was skeptical of everything around him, a man actually entered his world and told him, I will love you unconditionally.
Thinking of this, Tim broke out in a cold sweat. Because he suddenly realized he hadn't deeply thought about reality for a long time. Love made him insecure, but it was completely different from the emptiness of depression—it even made him rediscover a real feeling in life.
It was Martin who gave him this feeling. From their first meeting, first exchanged glance, first embrace... they had always needed each other. When he could no longer avoid his feelings, he had to admit—he needed Martin too.
Fate's vines had thus entangled them together, like twins, inseparable. If so, Tim thought, whether the outcome was good or bad, lifelong companionship or never speaking again—he should try.
"Okay," Tim suddenly said.
"What did you say?"
"I said okay. If you want, we can try."
Martin didn't react with joy as Tim had imagined. Instead, he stood there with his hands in his pockets, dazed.
"You changed your mind?" Tim asked.
"No, of course I want to. But do you want this, Tim?"
"...Marty, I love you very much too. Can you understand that?"
Tim took Martin in his arm. Distance suddenly closed Martin's forehead nearly hit his chin. In that moment of tangled breath, he could even smell the scent of melting snow on Martin. Their arms still circled each other's waists, able to feel the extremely irregular heartbeats through their clothes. Tim cherished the warmth of this moment. Hadn't he also waited years for this?
In the twenty-eighth year of his life, Tim finally had the chance to truly experience love—and he was certain he'd fallen in love with an exceptionally good person. So every day from now on would be better than today.
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6.
"Marty, I have one last question."
"What is it?"
"After I announced I'm no longer touring, when you do B2B with others, can you please not play 'Waiting for Love'?"
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—The End—
7.
February 2018: 28-year-old Swedish musician Avicii officially announced his retreat behind the scenes. In interviews, he stated he would settle in Los Angeles, USA, and cease all public performances, but would continue to bring musical inspiration as a producer.
In the following years, he collaborated with many musicians, creating numerous widely praised tracks.
October 2025: Dutch electronic music producer Martin Garrix, who had repeatedly ranked first in the DJ Mag Top 100, came out on social media. He was the first world-class electronic music producer to publicly disclose his sexual minority orientation, with most fans expressing understanding and support. Notably, this day coincided with the tenth anniversary of the release of "Waiting for Love," one of the most famous tracks the Dutchman had participated in producing.
May 2026: Martin Garrix celebrated his 30th birthday. Paparazzi captured photos of him kissing a man in a black jacket and baseball cap on the party dance floor. Due to blurry footage, no information about this person is currently available, though fans believe they will eventually see an official relationship announcement.
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*Sonny in the text refers to Skrillex, just in case anyone misunderstands...
Author's Note (Spoilers for other versions):
This story spent me one year theoutline was conceived around February 2025. Another novel of 70-80 thousand words, started during the same winter break, was already finished, while this one was only halfway done. Rushing against time, I finally managed to post it nearly a year later. When I was writing the Los Angeles scenes, "Angels for Each Other" had just been released. In the blink of an eye, Martin has already completed his last EDM album. I really can't bear it. I changed the ending four times, wavering indecisively between BE, OE, and HE for over half a year, finally deciding to give them a fairy-tale ending. I hope in some parallel universe, they are happy.
There will be two more side stories later, about 5000 words total, already finished which I'll post shortly. They're independent from the main plot—basically cute story about what happens after they get together.
For Martjin Garritsen
For Tim Bergling
For everyone who has read this far
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One day you'll leave this world behind
So live a life you'll remember