The apartment sat on a quiet street near the heart of the city, tucked above a cozy little café. The front door was painted soft green, and beside it, a handwritten poster fluttered in the wind: "Looking for a new roommate. We’re open-minded, creative, and kind. Come as you are."

Inside, the apartment was spacious but homey—warm wood floors, big windows draped in light curtains, and plants in every corner. Each of them brought their own energy to the space.

Namjoon was the first one anyone noticed. Tall and thoughtful, with soft eyes and round glasses slipping down his nose as he read thick philosophy books on the couch. His room was a blend of bookshelves, soft lighting, and a record player spinning jazz or lo-fi beats. Namjoon had studied abroad, lived in Berlin for a while, and spoke gently, always giving space to others. He was the one who had made the poster.

Seokjin, the oldest, brought warmth like sunlight. He cooked most nights, his laugh echoing through the kitchen. Broad-shouldered and handsome in an old-fashioned way, Jin’s past included a bit of acting, a lot of travel, and a deep love for food. He once studied culinary arts in Paris but preferred to call himself a "food romantic" instead of a chef. His bedroom was filled with polaroids and soft pillows.

Yoongi was quieter. Usually found in his corner of the living room with headphones on, producing music on his laptop. Black hair always a bit tousled, expression calm but curious. He had a past as a touring musician before deciding he wanted a quieter life. At night, he played the piano softly, enough for everyone to hear through the walls like a lullaby. Despite his reserved nature, his sarcasm came out in just the right moments to make everyone laugh.

Hoseok was color and movement. Always dancing—whether on purpose or just while making tea. His hair changed shades often, currently a honey brown that matched his glowing smile. His room was a chaos of art supplies, paint on the floor, and mirrors. Hoseok once taught dance in street studios across Asia, his heart always open, always listening. He made people feel seen.

Jimin brought softness. His voice was sweet, and he had a way of touching people on the shoulder, of being close without crowding. Blonde hair framed his face as he folded laundry or rearranged the plants. He had studied contemporary dance but now worked in community outreach, helping young artists find their way. His room smelled like fresh flowers and peppermint oil.

Taehyung was all velvet and jazz, like a painting come to life. Deep voice, slow smiles, and vintage sweaters. He played saxophone late at night, sometimes disappearing for days on photography trips. His walls were filled with framed film photos—people, cities, strange corners of the world. Taehyung had once modeled in Tokyo but left it behind for something more real. He brought home stray cats and old records like they were treasures.

And Jungkook—youngest, full of energy but grounded. Tattoos peeked out from his sleeves, and his piercings shimmered in the light. He was always fixing something, building furniture or painting murals. Jungkook had worked in graphic design but also loved woodworking and boxing. His room was a balance of gym gear and sketchbooks, always in motion, yet deeply caring. He had a way of noticing when someone wasn’t okay and sitting with them quietly until they were.

Their lives were stitched together with music, food, shared laughter, and quiet understanding. When they opened their door to a new roommate, it wasn’t just for someone to fill the space—it was for someone to belong.