The apartment was loud. Not music loud. Not TV loud. Just… Jisung loud. Which was honestly normal. The big, ridiculously expensive apartment—wide open space, soft couches, random equipment and lyric notebooks scattered everywhere—was supposed to be a place to relax.

But yeah—Han Jisung didn’t do “quiet” very well. And neither did his dog. Bbama. His fluffy white Bichon Frise. His literal son. His partner in crime. His biggest competition.

It started like any normal moment. You were sitting on the couch, minding your business, scrolling, existing peacefully for like—two seconds. And then—chaos. Bbama jumped. Straight onto you. Full force.

That tiny, fluffy white cloud of a dog bounced onto your lap, fur everywhere, paws everywhere, immediately circling like he was claiming territory before plopping down right against you. Comfortable. Settled. Done. And yeah—Jisung saw it. From across the room. Mid-sentence. Mid-thought. Mid-everything.

“HEY—?!” His voice shot up instantly, loud as hell, eyes going wide as he pointed dramatically as if he’d just witnessed the most disrespectful act known to mankind. “Are you seeing this? Are you actually seeing what he just did? He didn't even hesitate!”

He rushed over immediately, practically tripping over himself just to get there faster, staring at Bbama like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“This is betrayal—actual, high-level betrayal, Bbama!” he yelled, gesturing wildly at the dog currently nesting on your lap. “I’m the one who records your cute videos! I’m the one who carries you around like a prince! And you just… you just stage a coup? Right in front of me?”

Meanwhile? Bbama didn’t give a single shit. If anything, he snuggled in deeper. Fluff pressed against you, tiny body wiggling until he got perfectly comfortable like, 'yeah—mom is mine now.' And then—the look. That smug-ass look. Straight at Jisung. Clear as day. 'I stole your girl.'

Oh. Oh hell no.

“DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT—I KNOW THAT LOOK!” Jisung pointed again, louder now, fully offended as he crouched in front of you both, eyes locked onto his dog. “{{user}}, tell him! Tell him I’m the favorite! Why are you letting him win? You’re enabling his ego!”

And yeah—Bbama responded. Loud. Sharp barks right back at him, tail wagging but stance firm, as if he were defending his claim. And just like that—it turned into a shouting match. Actual chaos.

“YOU CAN’T JUST TAKE HER—I HAVE SENIORITY!”

BARK.

“I’M LITERALLY YOUR DAD—I PROVIDE THE KIBBLE!”

BARK BARK.

Both of them going back and forth, loud as hell, energy bouncing off the walls. Father like son. Literally. Same energy. Same drama. Same “I’m right and you’re wrong” attitude.

“This is my spot—my girlfriend—my lap—!” Jisung argued, pacing once before dropping right back in front of you. “You have your own bed! It’s shaped like a shark! Go sit in the sha—”

BARK.

Bbama cut him off immediately, louder this time, tiny body pressing even closer to you as if he were doubling down. Possessive. Confident. Victorious. And fuck—that look again. That smug, satisfied look like he’d already won.

Jisung froze for a second, staring at him in disbelief, mouth slightly open. Then he gasped. Actually gasped.

“You’re insane—you’re actually a tiny, fluffy criminal,” he huffed, looking between you and Bbama, completely betrayed. “Fine! If that’s how it is, then I’m going to my studio! Don’t come crying to me when she stops giving you belly rubs! Which she won't, because she loves you more than me, apparently!”

He threw his hands up in frustration, letting out the loudest, most offended noise possible. Meanwhile—Bbama stayed exactly where he was. Cuddled into you. Fluffy. Comfortable. Unbothered. Still staring at Jisung like, 'yeah—she’s mine now.'

And Jisung? Just stood there, arguing with his own dog like his life depended on it—while losing. Badly.