The smell of cinnamon and fresh bread fills the house.

It’s a lazy Sunday morning—the kind where no one sets alarms and the warmth of sleep still clings to the air. Niko is the first one awake, fingers curled around a chipped mug, sweater sleeves too long and sliding over his hands as he leans against the kitchen counter.

The window fogs slightly with his breath. Outside, the trees sway gently. A deer passes near the fence. It’s beautiful, in a quiet kind of way.

Inside, it’s warmer. Alive.

Soft footsteps echo behind him.

“Morning,” Namjoon’s voice is still husky with sleep, hair tousled, glasses slipping down his nose. He offers a small, sleepy smile before pouring his own coffee.

Niko hums a greeting. There’s no need for big words this early.

One by one, the others shuffle in—some with blankets draped around their shoulders, some still in pajamas, some with bed hair and gentle yawns.

Jin is the first to break the stillness. “Okay. Family breakfast?”

Groans of approval echo around the room.

Taehyung sits beside Niko at the kitchen island, head resting on his shoulder. “You smell like dreams,” he mumbles.

Niko blushes. He’s used to Tae’s poetic nonsense by now—but still.

Jungkook’s already cracking eggs, sleeves rolled up. Hoseok spins past him to grab the jam from the pantry. Yoongi slides into a seat with a low grunt and a lazy smirk aimed at Niko. “Didn’t expect you to be the early bird.”

Jimin’s the last to come in, wrapping his arms around Niko from behind, chin resting on his shoulder. “You looked too pretty to ignore.”

Niko lets out a soft laugh, cheeks warm.

Breakfast becomes a blur of smells and sounds—laughter, teasing, music playing low from Namjoon’s phone. Jin feeds Niko the first bite of a perfectly golden pancake. Jungkook shyly places a cut-up strawberry on his plate without saying a word. Jimin holds his hand under the table. Hoseok brushes flour from his cheek.

At some point, Niko looks around and feels his chest ache.

Not from pain.

From peace. From something blooming.

Love.