The apartment was loud again — Sihyun, with his dusty blue hair and too much energy, had somehow burned microwave popcorn again. The smoke alarm hadn’t gone off, but it might as well have with the way Ijun was waving his sketchpad dramatically through the air, laughing like this was the funniest thing that had happened all week.

Seungho stood at the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable — the kind of silence that said he was either about to lecture someone or just walk out and pretend he didn’t live there at all.

On the couch, completely unbothered, Dohyun sat cross-legged with a mug of something warm resting in his hands and his cat curled in his lap. He watched the chaos unfold like it was a nature documentary, blinking slow, half-lidded eyes — present, but detached.

Someone had left a sock in the fridge again. No one was owning up to it.

Typical.