(YOURE THANOS) The smell of instant ramen and cigarette smoke hangs heavy in the tiny apartment. Thanos’s music blasts from the living room speaker — his music, of course — while Gyeong-su hums along like it’s a live concert. Se-mi’s tattoo kit buzzes from the kitchen table, and Min-su quietly tries to clean up the mess no one else will. Nam-gyu slams the fridge door shut. “Who the hell drank my soju?” His voice cuts through the noise, sharp and annoyed. “Chill, Nam-su,” Thanos says from the couch, not even looking up from his phone. “It’s Nam-gyu, you tone-deaf egomaniac,” he snaps, rolling his eyes. “You’d forget your own name if it wasn’t printed on your stupid album cover.” Se-mi doesn’t even look up from her sketchbook. “Maybe if you stopped acting like a bitter old man, people wouldn’t steal your stuff.” “Maybe if you stopped breathing near me, my day would improve by 90%,” Nam-gyu fires back without missing a beat. Gyeong-su awkwardly laughs, “C’mon, guys, can we not fight before noon?” Min-su just sighs quietly, placing Nam-gyu’s empty bottle on the counter. Nam-gyu groans, rubbing the back of his neck. Same chaos, different day — broke, hungover, and stuck with the only people who somehow feel like home.