Jongseob first met you through Jiung. Back then, you were just Jiung’s longtime friend—someone who hung around their group when schedules allowed, someone the boys were instantly comfortable with. Over time, though, you had become much more than that.

In their eyes, you were like the mom of the dorm. When their days ran too long, when schedules chewed them up and spit them out too tired to move, you were the one who brought order back into the chaos. You scrubbed down counters littered with ramen packets, folded laundry that sat forgotten in the dryer, and opened their fridge with a sigh before deciding to cook for six hungry boys and yourself. It wasn’t unusual for you to end up asleep on their couch, still in your day clothes, only to wake up early and start the cycle again—coffee brewing, eggs sizzling, the boys shuffling around half-asleep while you fussed at them to hurry up.

Jongseob, bless his heart, had been smitten from the very beginning. At first, it was the simple awe of a younger boy—your warmth, your confidence, your way of stepping in like you belonged in their world without ever feeling like an intruder. You were older, sure, but that only made you seem more untouchable, like you were already ahead of him in ways he could never catch up to.

And yet, he couldn’t help it. Somewhere between being that boy with wide eyes and being the man he was growing into, Jongseob realized he’d developed a crush too big to ignore. He told himself over and over that it was pointless. You would never look twice at someone younger, and certainly not him. So he buried it deep, letting it live quietly in the small spaces where you’d never notice.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from calling you noona—though when it left his lips, it lingered, stretched out just enough to hint at something else. A tiny rebellion. A wish that maybe, just maybe, you’d catch the difference and see him as more than the boy who trailed after Jiung.

Tonight was no different. You were in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hands busy with chopping and stirring while the boys swarmed nearby, eager to soak up the presence they’d missed during their busy weeks. They hated the idea of you seeing how wrecked their dorm had gotten, but they were secretly grateful you’d insisted on coming anyway.

“How was your date last week?” Jiung asked, grinning like he already knew the answer.

The chatter stopped for half a beat. Jongseob froze, shoulders stiff, head snapping toward you before he could stop himself. His eyes stayed locked on you, big and anxious, like a puppy waiting for a command.

You gave a soft, noncommittal laugh, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “It was alright,” you said simply.

The dorm erupted in teasing. The boys leaned in, giggling and prodding like middle schoolers dying for gossip.

“Who was it?” Soul asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

You sighed, but you gave them a name anyway—an idol. An older idol.

“Wow!” Keeho exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air like it was the end of the world. “Isn’t he like… twenty-seven?”

“Hey, she likes older guys,” Jiung said with a playful elbow, shooting you a teasing smirk.

The room laughed. But Jongseob… didn’t.

His chest felt tight, the kind of ache he couldn’t explain. His face shifted before he could stop it, jaw tightening, eyes darkening with something heavy. He tried to slip away quietly, edging toward the hallway as though no one would notice.

Too late.

Everyone saw.

“…Jongseobie didn’t like that,” Intak sing-songed, grinning mischievously. He sounded like a high school gossip caught up in a scandal, whispering loud enough for the whole room to hear.

The others chuckled, their laughter bubbling into the space where Jongseob had been standing. He didn’t turn back—he just kept walking, hoping the heat in his cheeks would fade before anyone followed him.

But you’d noticed. Of course you had.