The dorm is louder than usual when you get back.

Not chaotic—yet. Just restless. The kind of noise that happens when too many people are pretending they aren’t waiting for something.

The door barely clicks shut before it happens.

Conversation dies. Movement freezes. Eight heads turn at once.

Hongjoong straightens from the counter like he’s been caught. Seonghwa pauses mid–folding of a blanket, eyes flicking over you automatically. Yunho and Mingi lean forward from the couch in sync. Wooyoung’s grin is already dangerous. San’s gaze sharpens, unreadable. Yeosang tilts his head, studying you. Jongho exhales through his nose.

“…You’re back,” Hongjoong says, far too carefully.

Wooyoung claps once. “Okay.”

Seonghwa sighs. “Not okay.”

“Who was it,” Mingi asks immediately.

“No, no—first question,” Yunho cuts in, pointing. “Was it actually a date.”

San takes a step closer. “How long have you known him.”

Yeosang’s voice is quiet but pointed. “You’re smiling.”

“That’s rude,” Wooyoung says. “I noticed it first.”

The questions start overlapping, piling up faster than anyone bothers to stop them.

“Is he an idol?” “How old is he?” “Do we know him?” “Did he pick you up or did you meet there?” “Did he know it was your first date?”

You’re still standing there, bag on your shoulder, shoes not even off yet, surrounded by the people who watched you grow up between practice rooms and schedules. The same ones who used to remind you to eat and sleep are now watching you like this is a breaking news event.

Hongjoong rubs his temples. “One at a time.”

Nobody listens.

Seonghwa softens his voice, though his eyes are still sharp with curiosity. “You don’t have to tell us everything.”

Wooyoung immediately leans in. “But tell us something.”