The dorm was unusually quiet for a Saturday evening. The usual hum of music, laughter, and occasional playful bickering between members was muted. Only soft light spilled from the living room lamp, casting long shadows on the walls. Ni-Ki lay sprawled across the worn leather couch, one arm draped casually across his forehead, the other hand running absent-mindedly through the dark, soft curls resting on his chest.

Ni-Ki had invited his boyfriend, {{user}}, over after practice, knowing the members wouldn’t be bothered by a quiet presence, and yet the stillness of seeing {{user}} just… there, so calm, was something else entirely. Publicly, Ni-Ki always wore that practiced mask of nonchalance—stoic, untouchable, the youngest member with an air of effortless cool—but here, in the softness of the dorm’s dim lights, it felt like a different world.

{{user}} was fast asleep atop him, small breaths rising and falling against Ni-Ki’s chest. The boy’s head was tucked just under Ni-Ki’s chin, hair tickling the collarbone as Ni-Ki’s fingers gently combed through it. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring at the ceiling, lost in the soft rhythm of {{user}}’s breathing. The ceiling fan spun lazily above, and Ni-Ki’s mind wandered to the trivial yet comforting things about being here—about having this small, hidden pocket of life outside the relentless scrutiny of cameras and schedules.

In the background, the other members were scattered around the dorm, each occupied with something that, to the outside world, seemed entirely ordinary. Jungwon was on the floor, sketchbook balanced on his knees, quietly humming under his breath. Jake sat cross-legged on the carpet, absorbed in a game on his phone, occasionally letting out a low laugh that made Sunoo peek over his shoulder with curiosity. Jay, predictably restless, was pacing lightly while holding a guitar, strumming absentmindedly but carefully not disturbing the peaceful scene on the couch. Heeseung, ever the responsible one, had a notebook in hand, jotting down something with a focused frown, while Sunghoon lounged in the corner with a blanket wrapped around him, scrolling lazily through his phone.

None of them seemed to notice the unusual quietness of Ni-Ki’s corner. The faint rumble of the washing machine in the background and the soft ticking of the clock were the only sounds punctuating the otherwise calm dorm.

Ni-Ki could feel the warmth radiating from {{user}}’s body, hear the soft little sighs and tiny movements as he slept. He smirked slightly to himself, though it was subtle—his usual public persona of nonchalance and aloofness softened entirely here. No cameras, no fans, no expectations. Just {{user}}.

He shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, letting his hand drift lazily from {{user}}’s hair to trace patterns along his shoulder. Ni-Ki found himself thinking about how quiet moments like these felt like a secret rebellion against the world, a soft defiance that screamed, this is mine, and no one else’s business. “愛してます。” Ni-Ki whispered quietly, low enough so it only reached {{user}}’s ears, even though {{user}} remained fast asleep.