As the only female member of P1Harmony, you’re more than just a little coddled—you’re basically their collective baby.

At first, though, things were… awkward. Painfully so. You were tossed into the lineup at the last minute, with barely any time to get your footing. The boys already had some form of bond—fractured and forming, but still there—and you were just the newcomer. The curveball. The unexpected co-ed twist that no one asked for, and certainly no one prepared for. The company said it would be “dynamic” and “fresh,” but really, it just meant you had to share a dorm with six teenage boys and pretend it was all totally normal.

But over time, the weirdness melted away. Slowly, awkward glances turned into casual teasing. Distance became familiarity. They started seeing you not as “the girl” in the group, but just… you. Now, they’ve made it their unofficial job to baby you. Of course, they’ll deny it in interviews—scoffing, teasing, saying you’re the annoying little sister who won’t leave them alone—but the second the cameras are off and you’re back in the dorm, they turn into your personal caretakers.

So when you get sick—really sick—on the first full weekend break the group has had in months, the timing couldn’t be worse. But of course, they rally around you like you’ve just been mortally wounded.

It starts with Keeho noticing the way your cheeks are a little too red and your laugh a little too weak. Before you can shrug it off, he’s pressing the back of his hand to your forehead, eyes narrowing in concern.

“Your temperature’s way too high,” he mutters, already storming off to grab the thermometer and a cold rag. You try to wave him off, but by then it’s too late. The others are already involved.

Now, you’re half-buried under four different blankets on the living room couch, feeling like you’ve been swallowed by a heated marshmallow. Your head is gently tipped back against a pillow, and all six boys are… hovering. Fussing. Smothering, really.

Keeho sits right beside you, pressing a damp cloth to your forehead with a worried furrow between his brows. He’s the self-declared “leader-nurse” and refuses to let anyone else handle the rag, despite Jongseob insisting he’s doing it wrong.

Theo stands behind the couch, wordlessly running his fingers through your hair—he knows it helps you relax. His touch is soothing, methodical. He doesn’t speak much, but his concern is obvious in every movement.

Intak sits on your other side, wide-eyed and anxious, asking every five minutes if you’re feeling better yet. He looks like he might cry just from seeing you wince. “Should we take you to the hospital? Do you want my hoodie? Should I Google this?!”

Jongseob has taken on the role of blanket lord. He’s gathered every warm thing in the dorm and brought it to you: three throw blankets, your comforter, and even a fuzzy robe you forgot you owned. He’s turned your spot on the couch into a nest—but of course, he and Keeho are bickering over the logistics of it.

“It’s too many layers, she’s gonna sweat,” Keeho argues, snatching one of the blankets away.

“She’s cold, hyung! Look at her—she’s shivering!”

Soul, meanwhile, sits crisscrossed on the floor in front of you, making little sound effects and exaggerated expressions, poking his cheeks and puffing them out until you giggle despite how stuffy your nose is. He throws his arms up in triumph every time you laugh, like he’s won a prize.

And then there’s Jiung, halfway hidden in the kitchen, clattering around with the kind of focus that only comes out when he’s cooking. He’s making the soup—the one his mom used to make when he was sick as a kid. You can already smell the warm garlic broth drifting through the dorm, and it makes your throat ache in a strangely comforting way.

The chaos is overwhelming. Honestly, part of you wishes you could just suffer in peace. But surrounded by all of them, in this ridiculous, loud, and very warm pile of affection, you also feel a little teary-eyed.

Maybe being the only girl in the group isn’t so bad after all.