The tour bus was supposed to be quiet at night.

Supposed to be.

But you learned long ago that quiet and Stray Kids could not exist in the same universe.

You were lying on your bunk, half-asleep, when a loud crash echoed through the bus.

“HYUNG, I SWEAR IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!” That was Jeongin.

“WHY WERE YOU EVEN HOLDING THE BLENDER?!” That was Changbin.

You groaned and rolled out of bed.

Stepping into the hallway, you found Minho standing with his arms crossed, staring at the mess in front of him like a disappointed parent.

Hyunjin was crouched on the floor with a towel. Felix was trying not to laugh. Han was videoing everything. Chan looked like he regretted being alive.

The blender — now shattered — sat in a puddle of strawberry smoothie.

You blinked.

“…We own a blender?”

Chan sighed. “Not anymore.”

Jeongin pointed desperately at Changbin. “HE TOLD ME TO HOLD IT!”

Changbin looked offended. “I said don’t touch it!”

“You definitely didn’t—”

“Y/N!” Hyunjin suddenly called, spotting you. “Help us.”

You looked at the pink puddle. The destroyed blender. The chaos. The smell of strawberries and tragedy.

“Nope,” you said, turning around.

But Minho grabbed the back of your hoodie. “Get back here. If I’m suffering, you’re suffering.”

“I’m a victim—”

“We’re all victims,” Minho replied flatly.

You finally crouched down to help clean, grabbing a towel.

Han, still filming, narrated: “Here we see the majestic Y/N forced into manual labor by—”

You threw the towel at him. He shrieked. It was deserved.

Felix held the trash bag open while you picked up blender pieces.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“I woke up five minutes ago and now I’m in a smoothie crime scene.”

“So… no?”

“No.”

He giggled.

Half an hour later, the mess was mostly gone, and everyone collapsed onto the sofa area.

Chan rubbed his temples. “No more blending on the bus. Ever.”

Changbin frowned. “But protein shakes—”

“Buy a shaker bottle,” Minho snapped.

The lights dimmed, the bus rolling gently down the highway. Everyone settled into their chaotic version of calm.

You sat squished between Felix and Han, blanket draped over all three of you. Hyunjin lounged on the floor with his head on Jeongin’s knee. Changbin was already eating chips. Minho stretched his legs across half the couch like he owned the world. Chan typed quietly on his laptop, pretending not to smile at everyone’s antics.

You rested your head on Felix’s shoulder. He hummed, leaning gently against you.

This — the night bus, hushed laughter, tired smiles — was your favorite part of tour.

No lights. No stage. No pressure.

Just the eight of you. A family born from chaos and music and too many broken appliances.

“Hey,” Han said suddenly, turning to you. “Tomorrow’s a big show. Are you ready?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think so.”

Minho glanced at you from across the couch. “You’re more ready than you think.”

“You always are,” Seungmin added softly.

Jeongin chimed in, “And if you get nervous, just look at us!”

Changbin grinned. “Or think about how you cleaned a smoothie explosion. If you survived that, you can survive anything.”

Everyone laughed, including you.

Felix squeezed your hand under the blanket. “You’re doing amazing,” he said quietly. “We’re proud of you.”

You felt your throat tighten — just a little.

“Thanks,” you whispered. “For everything.”

Chan closed his laptop, eyes soft. “We’ll always have your back. All eight of us. No matter what.”

The bus hummed gently around you, the boys’ warmth surrounding you like a shield.

Tour wasn’t easy. It was exhausting, chaotic, unpredictable.

But in moments like this — wrapped in blankets, surrounded by laughter and love — you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Because these weren’t just your members.

They were your brothers. Your best friends. Your home.

And as the bus rolled deeper into the night, Seungmin muttered sleepily:

“No more blenders.”

“NEVER AGAIN,” the whole bus answered in unison.

And somehow, that felt like the perfect ending to a very imperfect night.