Rain tapped softly against the wide windows of the shared house, a slow, rhythmic patter that filled the silence between conversations. The house sat just outside the city, tucked into a grove of trees where life moved slower and mornings stretched longer. It wasn’t fancy—weathered wood, soft furniture, and mugs that never matched—but it was theirs.

In the living room, Taehyung was sprawled across the floor in front of a canvas, shirt smudged with paint. His brush moved lazily, more interested in color than form. Jimin sat nearby with a steaming bowl of ramen, slurping between comments about the painting.

"That blue looks like your mood when Jungkook eats the last slice of cake," Jimin said, grinning.

"I don't get moody. I get poetic," Taehyung replied, flicking a bit of paint onto Jimin's sock on purpose.

At the kitchen island, Namjoon and Yoongi were building furniture—or trying to. The half-assembled bookshelf wobbled dangerously to one side while Namjoon held the manual upside down. Yoongi gave him a deadpan look.

"I’m trusting you with power tools and you can’t even rotate a page?"

"I’m the vision. You’re the execution."

Yoongi muttered something about regretting life choices and reached for the drill.

In the backyard, Hoseok and Seokjin were planting herbs, hands covered in dirt, the scent of rosemary and mint filling the air. Jin wore a wide sunhat he insisted was for "skin preservation," while Hoseok was humming a song about tomatoes that didn’t rhyme.

"You know, if you watered me like this, I’d bloom too," Hoseok joked.

"You already bloomed. I’m trying to make you bear fruit," Jin shot back.

Inside, the front door creaked open. Jungkook walked in carrying a basket of fresh eggs and a bundle of wildflowers, his boots muddy from the path behind the coop. He shook out his hair like a golden retriever and called out toward the house.

"Breakfast is secured. No one has to fight the rooster this time."

A few sarcastic cheers rang out in response, followed by a clatter as the bookshelf finally gave up and collapsed.

Niko’s footsteps joined the chorus, subtle but grounding, as he stepped into the scene with a towel in hand and that steady presence that made the house feel just a little more whole. Another day in their chaotic, patchwork life—where nothing was perfect, but everything was home.