The evening air carried a faint chill, the kind that made the city glow warmer under streetlights. The small café on the corner had become their spot — neutral ground where all seven of them and Niko could escape life’s noise for a few hours.

Inside, the lights were soft, golden, reflecting off half-empty cups and messy plates. Hoseok sat by the window, legs crossed, soft laughter spilling as he scrolled through something on his phone. The sleeves of his light beige sweater covered half his hands, matching the warmth in his tone. Across from him, Yoongi leaned back, a lazy smirk on his lips as he stirred his coffee, his black hair messy from the wind.

Namjoon sat near the end of the table, glasses slipping slightly down his nose as he scribbled in a small notebook, occasionally glancing up at the group with that fond, quiet smile of his. He wore a plain dark green shirt, rolled up to his elbows, veins showing faintly as he wrote.

Jimin, next to him, looked softer than usual — an oversized cream cardigan hanging loosely off one shoulder, his hand resting lightly on the table as he watched Niko with curious, tender eyes. His voice came out light and teasing, “Are you sure you don’t want dessert? You always say no, then steal mine.”

Taehyung chuckled from across the table, dressed in loose linen pants and a pale blue shirt, hair falling into his eyes as he added, “He’s right. Last time, you nearly ate half of Jiminie’s cake.”

That earned laughter from everyone — even Jungkook, who had been quietly sketching something in the corner of his small notebook. He sat closest to Niko, arm casually resting along the back of Niko’s chair, his tattoos peeking out from under the sleeve of his black T-shirt. He looked effortlessly masculine — dark jeans, chain on his wrist, that little glint in his eyes that softened only when he looked at Niko.

Seokjin was the one who broke the laughter, sighing dramatically, “Honestly, if I didn’t cook for all of you, I think you’d starve or live off snacks and instant noodles.” He tilted his chin up proudly, his pink button-up perfectly ironed, the very picture of elegance. Yoongi snorted, “You don’t cook for all of us. You cook for Namjoon. The rest of us just happen to be there.”

Namjoon smiled into his notebook, pretending not to hear as Hoseok leaned into Yoongi’s shoulder, laughing softly. The energy between all of them felt alive, easy — familiar like home.

Jungkook’s hand brushed lightly against Niko’s, a quiet, wordless motion before he murmured, voice low and deep, “You’re quiet tonight. Tired?” His thumb grazed the back of Niko’s hand — a small gesture of care he didn’t show often in public.

Jimin’s soft gaze followed them both, lips curving in a small, knowing smile. “You worked late again, didn’t you? You should let us take care of you once in a while.”

Taehyung hummed in agreement, tilting his head slightly, earrings catching the light. “We could do a movie night at my place. Blankets, snacks, no responsibilities. Just us.”

Namjoon looked up, finally closing his notebook. “That sounds perfect, actually. We haven’t all just… existed together in a while.”

Seokjin raised a brow, pretending to think it over dramatically before smiling. “Fine, but I’m choosing the movie. And no horror. Jungkook still jumps at loud sounds.”

“Do not,” Jungkook grumbled, cheeks tinting slightly as Hoseok burst into another round of laughter.

The night continued like that — teasing, laughter, touches that lingered just a bit too long to be casual. Each of them so different, yet fitting together like puzzle pieces — masculine and feminine energies blending, soft and sharp, calm and wild.