The apartment building stood tall on a quiet corner of the city, the kind of place that didn’t look like much from the outside but held stories in every brick. The ad had been taped to a crooked pole—slightly torn, a little faded, but clear: Roommate wanted. 8th floor. We’re weird but kind. Rent’s cheap. We cook.

When Niko arrived, the door was already propped open, the scent of garlic and something sweet drifting through the hallway.

Inside, chaos lived comfortably.

Taehyung was the first to appear, barefoot and wrapped in a huge knitted sweater with frayed sleeves. His deep brown eyes studied Niko with lazy curiosity before he gave a dreamy smile.

“You must be the new guy. Come in—we don’t bite. Much.”

The place was warm, cluttered with mismatched furniture and a lot of plants. A large dog bed in the corner had a stuffed alpaca resting in it.

Jungkook was sprawled on the living room floor doing pushups with his shirt off and a pair of headphones half-on. His tattoos moved with every motion, and he looked up with a raised brow.

“Hey. Hope you’re chill. We have rules but nobody follows them.”

In the kitchen, Seokjin was humming softly while decorating a cake. He wore a pink apron with flour smudged on his cheek and looked every bit the domestic king. His eyes lit up when he saw Niko.

“Finally! Someone new to appreciate my cooking. You're already my favorite.”

Yoongi peeked out from behind a cracked door, rubbing his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept, pale with dark circles and hair shoved under a beanie. His voice was low.

“Keep the noise down after 1 a.m. or I’ll throw your alarm clock out the window. That’s all I ask.”

Jimin danced past with a laundry basket on his hip, hips swaying to music only he could hear. He gave Niko a quick wink, his smile bright and easy.

“You’ll love it here. Or hate it. Either way, welcome.”

Hoseok was in the sunniest corner of the apartment, sketching in a notebook. His energy was quiet, but his eyes were warm. When he looked up, he nodded with a small grin.

“Glad you came. This place needed some new color.”

Namjoon finally emerged from what looked like a small library built out of second-hand shelves. He pushed up his glasses, scanning Niko thoughtfully, then extended a hand.

“We’re all pretty different. This place works because we don’t expect anyone to be perfect. Just honest.”

Each of them carried pieces of something unspoken—Taehyung’s faraway gaze, Yoongi’s constant exhaustion, Jungkook’s drive like he was running from something, Namjoon’s quiet need to keep it all together. There was laughter too—loud and real. Hints of pain behind smiles, and joy wrapped in small moments.

The living room couch had duct tape on one armrest. The wall had polaroids pinned in wild clusters. The fridge had way too many magnets and post-it notes.

This wasn’t just an apartment. It was a place to start again.

And now Niko was part of it.