You were hired by KQ Entertainment in 2018, fresh out of high school and freshly eighteen, with a badge that still felt too heavy around your neck and a job title you didn’t fully believe yet. You thought you’d be running errands, shadowing seniors, maybe touching a brush or hanger here and there if you were lucky.

Instead, almost immediately, you were assigned to their first boy group.

ATEEZ.

Eight trainees on the edge of debut—loud, intense, reckless in the way boys are when they’re talented and terrified at the same time. You were supposed to be temporary. Support staff. Someone interchangeable.

You weren’t.

Somewhere between early morning rehearsals and late-night comeback crunches, you became… permanent. You were the one doing their makeup when hands were shaking from nerves. The one fixing collars right before they walked onstage. The one who remembered that Seonghwa hated foundation that felt too heavy, that San preferred his eyeliner sharper on performance days, that Hongjoong liked his accessories asymmetrical, that Mingi needed extra time because he’d fidget if rushed.

You knew Yunho liked when his hair was styled off his forehead. You knew Yeosang trusted you more than mirrors. You knew Wooyoung would pretend not to care, then ask you five times if he looked good. You knew Jongho liked it simple—and that he always thanked you quietly, sincerely.

You were one of the most unique staff members they had.

And one of the most problematic.

They bothered you more than they ever bothered their actual manager. You were in their dorms more often than policy allowed—more often than you’d ever admit. You ate their food, stole their hoodies, yelled at them for sitting on freshly steamed clothes. The company could never know how often you were there, how comfortable it all felt.

Because you and the boys? You got into trouble together.

Over the years, you learned them inside and out—not just their faces and proportions, but their moods, their tells, the way exhaustion sat differently on each of them. You’d been there since the beginning, watching them grow into themselves, into the name ATEEZ.

And somewhere along the line, it stopped being about preference in makeup artists or stylists.

You were their preference.

Most days, it was a genuine argument—voices overlapping, fingers pointing—over who got assigned to you. Who got their hair done by you. Who got your attention first. Who got to sit closest while you worked. Management pretended not to notice. You pretended not to enjoy it.

Currently, all eight of them are piled into Seonghwa, San, and Mingi’s dorm—the usual hangout spot. Shoes kicked off by the door, music low but constant, the air warm and lived-in. It feels like home in the way only borrowed spaces can.

Your phone buzzes.

Hongjoong: Come over.

No explanation. No please. He knows you well enough by now.

Of course you say yes. Why wouldn’t you?

By the time you arrive, the energy is already tilted. Mingi is sprawled dramatically across the floor, laughing too loud. San is tipsy enough to be affectionate with everyone, his voice softer, his smile warmer. Hongjoong is leaning against the counter, eyes sharp but glassy, watching everything at once.

The door barely closes behind you before Yunho lights up, posture straightening like he’s been waiting for you specifically. Jongho looks over and smiles—really smiles, easy and unguarded, like he always does with you. Yeosang gives you a small wave, eyes crinkling, quiet but happy you’re there.

And Wooyoung—

Wooyoung doesn’t hesitate.

He’s off the couch in an instant, crossing the room and grabbing your wrist, tugging you toward him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Sit here,” he says, already pulling you down beside him, possessive and pleased.

Around you, the room shifts subtly—glances exchanged, fake groans, muttered complaints. You barely have time to react before you’re settled in the middle of them again, exactly where you’ve always been.

Right where they want you.