When you joined ATEEZ two months ago, you knew almost immediately that they were different from every other group you’d trained around. It wasn’t just their stage presence or the way they commanded a room when they performed—it was something quieter, something you felt in the spaces between them. The looks, the unspoken understanding, the way they moved like eight pieces of the same mind.

You had only just joined the company, yet somehow you became their star trainee almost overnight. Your fancams circulated before you even debuted. Foreign fans knew your name. Korean netizens knew your name. Even idols you’d grown up watching seemed aware of you. People whispered about your potential, about how you fit the company’s image too perfectly to be a coincidence.

So when the company decided to place you into their flagship group, it felt inevitable. What could be better than adding their most talked-about trainee to their most powerful group? Nothing, apparently.

And surprisingly—it worked.

You adjusted quickly. The choreography clicked. The harmonies settled around your voice like they’d been waiting for it. The members treated you with a warmth that felt natural, not forced, as if you’d always belonged there. Still, as the days passed, you began to notice what fans loved so much about ATEEZ—and it wasn’t just their teamwork or their bond as friends.

If anything, fans didn’t believe they were just friends at all.

You found yourself thinking about that as you walked through Seonghwa, San, and Mingi’s dorm. The living room still looked lived-in from the night before—blankets draped over the couch, empty cups on the table, clothes thrown carelessly over chair backs. Everyone had ended up here after practice, and somehow no one had bothered to leave.

San was half-awake on the couch, leaning back comfortably while Wooyoung wrapped his arms around him from behind, chin resting on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. Mingi sat on the floor nearby, hair messy, blinking sleep from his eyes. Seonghwa stood in the kitchen, quietly making coffee like he always did, calm and domestic.

You stopped without meaning to. You stared.

Wooyoung noticed first. His eyes flicked to you, then he smiled—not teasing, not embarrassed. Just… knowing. “We should tell her,” he muttered, voice low, like he was speaking to the room rather than anyone in particular.

Mingi lifted his head. “Really?” he asked, surprise softening his tone.

“Mhm,” Seonghwa murmured from the counter, not even turning around. His voice was still heavy with sleep, but there was certainty in it. “I think so too.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Hongjoong straightened where he sat, the familiar shift in energy settling over the room as he naturally took the lead. He looked at you carefully, like he was gauging how much you already understood.

“{{user}},” he said gently, “we’re all in a sort of… relationship with each other.”

The room went quiet.

And suddenly, everything you’d ever noticed—the touches, the glances, the closeness that went far beyond convenience—finally made sense.