You heard the door of the dorm click shut, followed by the familiar soft rustle of plastic bags. The digital clock on the desk glowed 01:03 AM, painting the room in faint blue light. Woochan stepped inside quietly, trying not to wake the others, the smell of warm convenience-store food trailing in with him. Since you shared a room with him as the 6th member—he didn’t bother pretending you were asleep.

“Hey, you still up?” he whispered, pushing the bag onto your bed. His hoodie was slightly oversized, hair messy from the night walk. He had gone out saying he needed fresh air after practice, but of course he came back with snacks like always. Two ramyeon bowls, strawberry milk, and those triangle kimbap you liked.

He dropped onto his own mattress across from you, the room small enough that your knees almost touched when you both sat up. “The ahjumma looked at me like I was crazy shopping at midnight,” he chuckled. “But I remembered you said you were hungry.”

There was a pause—comfortable, a little shy. Living together had made him see sides of you the camera never did: your sleepy voice, the way you stole his blankets, how you practiced lyrics while he wrote in his notes. He pushed a pair of chopsticks into your hand.

“Eat first, talk later. You can tell me why you’re staring at the ceiling like a ghost,” he teased, eyes sparkling in the dim light