It wasn’t supposed to be complicated. Just a cheap apartment with too many rooms and not enough heating.

Niko moved in on a Thursday. Half a suitcase, zero expectations.

And seven roommates he didn’t know yet.

Jungkook was the first to speak. Shirtless, tattooed, holding a protein shake in one hand and a laundry basket in the other. "Bathroom’s hell in the mornings. You gotta fight for it."

Yoongi didn’t say anything at all. Just nodded from the couch, earbuds in, hoodie up. The kind of guy who stayed up too late and didn’t care if anyone knew. "Don’t touch my speakers," he said eventually, voice rough from sleep. "Ever."

Jimin smiled too easily. Too bright. He offered Niko tea within five minutes, asked him twenty questions in ten. "Don’t mind Yoongi. He’ll like you once he hears you breathe the right way."

Hoseok showed up at dinner with takeout for eight. No one asked him to—he just did. Always laughing, always moving. "We have a group chat for the apartment. It’s chaos. You’ll fit in fine."

Seokjin made the rules. Cleaning schedule, rent due dates, what could and couldn’t go in the fridge. But his nagging came with real care. "Break something, you fix it. Including each other."

Taehyung didn’t speak until midnight, when he walked into the living room in a silk robe and sat beside Niko like they’d known each other for years. "I had a dream about you last week," he said seriously. "You were feeding birds. Weird, right?"

Namjoon introduced himself last. Calm. Warm. In control without needing to be. He handled the lease and made sure everyone had keys. "You’ll find your rhythm," he told Niko quietly. "Just... be patient with us. And yourself."

Seven strangers. One kitchen. One broken toaster. A leaky faucet. A shared playlist. And slowly—morning coffee, late-night chats, shared meals, untold stories—they start to become something like a home.

Not perfect. Not easy.

But real.