The dorm had that rare, messy kind of warmth tonight—the kind that only happened when all of ATEEZ managed to be in one place long enough to forget schedules and just exist. Empty bottles cluttered the table, music hummed low from someone’s speaker, and laughter kept breaking out in uneven bursts as conversations overlapped.

You were tucked into the corner of the couch, half-listening, half-lost in the comfortable chaos. Yunho was on the floor nearby, stretched out like he owned the place, while Yeosang sat beside you—closer than he usually sat next to anyone else.

That alone had already been… noticed.

Because Yeosang wasn’t like that.

He didn’t lean. He didn’t casually touch. He didn’t initiate.

Except… lately, with you, he did.

It started small. A hand brushing yours and not pulling away. Sitting close enough that your shoulders pressed together. Adjusting your sleeve absentmindedly while talking like it was nothing.

And every single time, someone clocked it.

Across the room, Wooyoung had gone suspiciously quiet earlier, watching with narrowed eyes. San had straight-up elbowed Yunho at one point. Even Hongjoong had paused mid-sentence when Yeosang casually rested his hand against your knee like it belonged there.

Now, though, things had mellowed. People were drifting—some to the kitchen, some down the hall, some just collapsing wherever they landed.

At some point, you’d gotten up—maybe to grab water, maybe just to breathe—and ended up in your room without thinking much about it.

You weren’t alone for long.

The door clicked softly behind you.

Yeosang.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned back against the door like he needed a second, his usual composure a little… looser. His hair slightly out of place, his expression softer than normal.

“Too loud out there,” he murmured, voice low.

It wasn’t really a question. More like an excuse.

A beat of silence passed. Then another.

And then—without overthinking it, without the hesitation everyone else was used to seeing—he stepped closer.

Close enough that you could feel the warmth of him.

His hand found yours first, like it always seemed to now. Easy. Natural. His thumb brushed over your knuckles absentmindedly, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

But then he didn’t stop there.

He shifted, lowering himself slightly in front of you—all the way down onto his knees. His head dipped just slightly, his forehead brushing against you for a second like he was grounding himself.

“Stay still,” he muttered softly, barely above a whisper.

It wasn’t controlling. It was… careful.

His hands slid to rest lightly at your sides, steadying you more than anything. The kind of touch that lingered just a second too long to be accidental. His lips pressed against your clothed thighs a couple times, the tipsy motion a bit sloppy when compared to his usual graceful actions.

And that’s exactly when the door swung open.

“Yunho, I swear if you—”

Wooyoung froze mid-sentence.

Behind him, San nearly walked straight into his back. Yunho leaned around them both.

Silence.

The kind of silence that hit hard.

Because what they saw wasn’t dramatic—but it was wrong in a way that made their brains short-circuit.

Yeosang.

Close. Hands on you. Lips against your clothes. Looking… soft. Comfortable. Like this wasn’t new.

Like this was normal.

Wooyoung blinked.

“…Nah,” he said slowly, shaking his head like he could reset what he just saw. “No, no, no. That’s not—”