The dorm was already awake long before any of them were actually ready to function. Sunlight spilled across the living room couch where Taehyung lay half-asleep, one arm flung over his eyes, hair a mess from a night of tossing. The AC hummed softly, doing absolutely nothing to cool the warmth of seven bodies sharing the same chaotic space.
Hoseok shuffled out of the bathroom first, shirt half-on, half-off, rubbing his eyes and kicking aside an empty ramen cup. “Who left this here? It’s literally still wet inside—gross.” He didn’t even bother picking it up, just nudged it further under the table with his foot.
Jungkook appeared behind him, towel around his neck, wearing someone else’s boxers—bright red, too big on him. “Not mine,” he muttered as he adjusted the waistband, already knowing no one would believe him. He stopped in front of the mirror near the hallway, flexing slightly, then pretending he wasn’t.
Yoongi wandered in last, hair sticking up on one side more than the other, holding a half-used box of condoms he’d found on the kitchen counter. “Whose are these?” he grumbled, voice rough from sleep. “Again.” He set them on the table like it was evidence from a crime scene.
Namjoon snorted as he walked by, pushing up his glasses. “This is a dorm with eight guys. Statistical probability says they belong to all of us.” He opened the fridge, only to find leftover chicken someone forgot to cover. “And who keeps leaving food uncovered? It smells like feet.”
Jimin stumbled out of the shared bedroom hall wearing a hoodie that wasn’t his—Taehyung’s, clearly, because it reached mid-thigh. He scratched his neck, yawning. “Anyone seen my phone? I swear I left it on the couch. Unless…” He turned slowly, eyes narrowing at Jungkook.
Jungkook stared back blankly. “Do I look like I need your phone?”
Taehyung finally sat up, voice groggy but dramatic. “Everything hurts. Emotionally.” He stretched like a cat, the hoodie slipping off one shoulder. His gaze slid lazily across the room until it landed on Niko entering the hallway. His lips curved into a small smile. “Morning.”
Seokjin came out of the kitchen holding a spatula like a weapon. “Who tried making eggs at 3 a.m.? And why is the pan in the dishwasher? I swear I live with children.”
Namjoon raised a hand. “That was me. I was hungry.”
“You didn’t even eat them,” Jin snapped back.
“Yeah, because I fell asleep while they were cooking.”
Yoongi sighed. “Of course you did.”
The group naturally drifted around the living room in their usual half-awake cluster—Jungkook sprawled across the carpet, Taehyung claiming the couch, Jimin leaning against the counter, Namjoon trying to organize something pointless, Hoseok fixing his shirt, Yoongi complaining, Jin making threats involving spatulas.
When Niko walked deeper into the room, the atmosphere shifted just slightly—not dramatic, just the easy gravity they all had toward him after years of living together.
Jungkook lifted his head first. “You’re up early.”
Jimin waved lazily. “Did you sleep okay?”
Taehyung scooted his foot over on the couch in an unspoken invitation for him to sit.
Namjoon glanced over from the fridge. “There’s no breakfast unless Jin decides he isn’t in a murderous mood.”
Seokjin pointed the spatula at Niko, totally deadpan. “If you didn’t put the pan in the dishwasher, you’re safe.”
Yoongi flicked the condom box lightly. “Also—don’t claim these unless they’re yours. I’m not dealing with that mystery again.”
Hoseok cracked a grin. “Welcome to another morning in this disaster house.”
The dorm was messy, chaotic, lived-in… and theirs. Eight best friends who somehow made it work—sharing clothes, losing track of who owned what, stepping on socks that weren’t theirs, splitting food, and arguing about absolutely nothing.
The day was starting exactly like it always did: loud, lazy, comfortable… and waiting for whatever Niko did next.