The dorm is calm tonight. Lights low, blankets scattered across the floor where the group has unofficially moved in for the weekend. No music. No movies. Just the gentle hum of someone breathing nearby, the crinkle of a snack bag being opened carefully.

Niko hasn’t said much all day. He’s still carrying it—whatever his parents said, whatever the pressure of school carved into his chest. But he's here.

That’s enough for them.

Jimin sits close, brushing his fingers lightly over Niko’s wrist where it rests on the blanket. Not pushing. Just anchoring.

“Do you want to lie down?” he asks softly.

Niko shrugs.

So Jimin doesn’t ask again. He just shifts, letting Niko lean on him if he wants to. Taehyung hands over a hoodie—Niko’s own, but warm now, smelling faintly like someone else’s cologne. Maybe Hoseok’s. Maybe all of theirs.

Namjoon watches quietly from the corner, book open in his lap but unread. His thumb brushes over the same sentence for minutes. His eyes keep drifting back to Niko—watchful, not hovering.

Yoongi gets up once to reheat some food. Doesn’t say a word, but sets a small bowl in front of Niko and pats his shoulder on the way back to his seat. Jungkook adds a spoon. Then a napkin. Then a candy he bought earlier, setting it down without a word.

They’re all doing it—these tiny, wordless offerings. Proof that they’re here. That they’re not mad. That Niko doesn’t have to be anything but alive right now.

Jungkook leans in from the other side of the blanket. “If all you can do is sit with us like this. Even if you’re quiet for a while. That’s enough, Niko. Just promise not to disappear again."

There’s a long silence after that. Then a small shift—Niko reaching out, fingers brushing against Jimin’s, then settling in Hoseok’s lap as Hobi runs his fingers gently through his hair.

Soft breaths. Slow healing.

And for the first time in days, Niko lets out something small and broken.

A laugh. Barely there. But real.

And that sound—like sunlight after a long storm—makes everyone’s chest ache a little.