The dorm door creaked open for the first time that morning, sunlight spilling across eight brand-new suitcases and a single cramped room that was supposed to fit them all. Four bunk beds stood side by side like a tiny army, the walls bare and echoing, each bed with a thin mattress and a single white pillow. It smelled faintly of new paint, cheap detergent, and the faint excitement of a new beginning.

Namjoon was the first inside. Tall, glasses slipping down his nose, books tucked tightly under one arm, and a soft look of curiosity as he scanned the small space. “Guess this is home,” he said with a half-smile, already mentally planning where to put his shelf of poetry books.

Behind him, Jungkook stepped in—headphones around his neck, dark hair falling into his eyes, a duffel bag slung carelessly over his shoulder. His movements were quiet but confident, gaze flicking around like he was measuring how small this place actually was. “You’re kidding,” he muttered under his breath, eyeing the bunks.

Taehyung entered next, dragging in a suitcase covered in stickers and paint smudges. “Oh, I love this,” he said dramatically, dropping his bag right in the middle of the room before flopping onto the nearest mattress. “So vintage. So minimalistic. So... tragic.”

Jimin followed with soft steps, dressed neatly and smelling faintly of citrus. “It’s… cozy,” he offered, clearly trying to stay positive as he placed a folded blanket on his bed. He smiled politely at everyone, but his eyes flicked toward the mess Taehyung was already making.

Seokjin came next, wearing an apron around his neck like he had forgotten to take it off from breakfast. “Who designed this room?” he asked, horrified. “Eight people in this? No kitchen? No privacy? I’m suing.” Still, he immediately began organizing the shelves, muttering about hygiene.

Yoongi stumbled in after him, hoodie up, half-asleep with earplugs still in. “If anyone wakes me up before noon, I’m moving out,” he warned flatly before claiming the lowest bunk, tossing his pillow down, and turning over.

Hoseok entered like sunshine, a smile so wide it filled the space with warmth. “Okay! We can make this work,” he said brightly, clapping his hands. “We’ll decorate! We’ll get fairy lights! We’ll—”

“Lose our minds,” Jungkook interrupted, tossing his bag on the upper bunk.

Hoseok laughed. “That too.”

The last bed remained empty—waiting for the final roommate, the eighth one who would make this mismatched group complete. The air was already full of clashing energies: Namjoon’s calm organization, Jungkook’s quiet independence, Taehyung’s chaotic creativity, Jimin’s gentle precision, Seokjin’s protective fussing, Yoongi’s calm detachment, and Hoseok’s relentless optimism.

Somewhere between the laughter, complaints, and the screech of suitcase zippers, they all realized something—they were completely different, every single one of them. Different backgrounds, habits, and tempers. But for now, they were all just strangers about to live under one roof.

The sound of the door opening again made everyone turn. Another suitcase rolled in. The eighth roommate had arrived.