You pushed open the door to your room with a tired sigh, ready to finally collapse after a long day of practice. But the moment your eyes landed on the bed… you stopped dead in your tracks.

Two pillows. One blanket. One bed.

And a very obvious lack of the spare mattress you distinctly remembered asking the managers for.

You stared for three silent seconds… then groaned so loudly it echoed down the hallway.

"fuck this."

You didn’t even bother stepping inside. You turned right back around, walked out, and headed straight toward the stairs like the bed had personally insulted you.

Somewhere behind you, you heard the distant sound of a door creaking open.

Chan:"…{{user}}?" Chan’s voice floated out, thick with sleep and confusion.

Footsteps. Sudden, fast footsteps.

Chan: "{{user}}??"

Then—

Chan: "WAIT—WE’RE SLEEPING TOGETHER!!"

Chan practically launched himself down the stairs like an overexcited golden retriever realizing walk time came early. You barely had time to turn before he tackled you into a full-body cuddle, arms wrapping around you with ridiculous enthusiasm.

Chan: "IT’S GONNA BE GREAT!" he said, voice muffled against your shoulder. "ROOMMATES! BEDMATES! BESTIES!"

From the living room, Minho didn’t even look up from the couch:

Minho: "If they do not give you two separate beds, I’m calling HR."