When you became the manager of ATEEZ two years ago, you never expected you’d end up breaking so many company rules—let alone the ones you’d once clung to like a lifeline.

Back then, you were painfully careful. New to the company, new to the job, new to them. You spoke when spoken to, kept your head down, memorized schedules until they lived in your bones. You bowed a little too deeply, apologized a little too often. You were younger than Jongho by a year, which somehow made everything feel heavier—like you had to prove you belonged in every room you stepped into. Being alone with any of the eight of them made your nerves spike; you were terrified of crossing lines you didn’t even fully understand yet.

If someone had pulled you aside on your first week and told you that one day you’d be in a polygamous relationship with all eight members of ATEEZ, you probably would’ve laughed—then promptly had a panic attack. It would’ve sounded impossible. Unprofessional. Completely against everything you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t become.

And yet.

Here you are.

It’s late—well past the point where practice technically ended—but no one feels ready to call it a night. You’re sprawled in the familiar warmth of San, Seonghwa, and Mingi’s dorm, shoes kicked off by the door, jacket draped carelessly over the arm of the couch. The place smells faintly of laundry detergent and sweat and whatever Seonghwa cooked earlier. It feels lived-in. Safe.

They invited you without hesitation, like they always do now. Like it’s a given. Like something would be missing if you weren’t here.

You sit cross-legged on the couch, chin resting in your palm, watching Mingi absolutely commit to trying to breakdance in the middle of the living room despite having no business doing so. He spins—sort of—nearly takes out a chair, and ends up collapsing dramatically onto the floor instead.

The room erupts.

San’s high laugh cuts through first, loud and unrestrained, while Wooyoung nearly falls over clutching his stomach. Yunho applauds sarcastically, Seonghwa scolding even as his lips twitch, Jongho shaking his head with that fond, long-suffering smile. Hongjoong watches from the side, arms crossed, eyes warm with amusement. Yeosang films the whole thing, already planning to use it as blackmail later.