The ad said “Room available. Cheap. No creeps.”

That was all Niko had to go on. He moved in the next day.

The place was a beat-up three-story in the middle of the city. Dust in the corners, creaky stairs, kitchen always too loud or too quiet.

The roommates weren’t what he expected.

Jungkook barely acknowledged him. Only home in the late hours, hoodie up, punching bag thudding in the garage past midnight. "You don’t ask about my life, I won’t ask about yours. Deal?"

Yoongi worked nights. Slept days. Avoided eye contact and conversation. Lived like a ghost in black sweatpants. "If I snap at you, it’s not personal. I just don’t like people."

Jimin was friendly—but it felt practiced. Polished. Like he’d learned to charm people before they could get close enough to hurt him. "I like new faces. They haven’t disappointed me yet."

Hoseok tried to hold the house together. Made breakfast for everyone. Took care of the plants. Cleaned when no one else would. "If the dishes pile up again, I’m throwing the entire set out. I mean it."

Seokjin was all sarcasm and deflection. Called everyone names, but cooked them soup when they got sick. "You’ll hate it here at first. Then you’ll hate it a little less. That’s how it goes."

Taehyung was strange from the start. Said things that didn’t make sense. Stared too long. "You’re here because you lost something too, right? We all are."

Namjoon handled the rent and the lease and the arguments. Too smart for his own good. Too tired to show it. "Nobody’s perfect here. Don’t expect us to be. We’re surviving. That’s it."

Niko came in expecting a place to crash.

What he got was a house full of damage, defenses, and buried softness.

And somehow, maybe, a chance to be part of something again—if they let him.