You’ve been with BigBang for as long as you can remember. Not as an idol, not as staff—just family. You grew up in their rooms, learned to walk backstage, and learned to talk during rehearsals. By the time you hit twenty, every member knew you better than anyone else on earth. And they treated you like their own.

There was only one thing that worried you: you still hadn’t gotten your period.

You’d been to doctor after doctor, appointment after appointment, and every one of them said the same thing—“It’s late. It happens. Stay calm.” So you tried to. You really did. You told yourself not to panic, not to overthink, not to expect anything dramatic.

But then there was that day.

All five of you were piled into a car, cramped and laughing, heading somewhere none of you had planned well. You were in the middle seat—Daesung on your right, Ji-yong on your left. You were wearing white pants, comfortable and soft, and you didn’t think twice about it.

You didn’t feel anything. You didn’t notice anything.

But they did.

Daesung went suddenly quiet, tapping Ji-yong’s arm with a look somewhere between panic and brotherly alarm. Ji-yong glanced down at you, then at your pants, then at Daesung again. A silent conversation passed between them without a single word.

And before you could ask what was wrong, Ji-yong leaned forward and said, “Hyung, pull over. Now.”

The car stopped so abruptly that you blinked in confusion. Then Ji-yong grabbed your wrist gently, Daesung took your other hand, and they practically lifted you out of the seat between them.

“W–What? What’s going on?” you asked.

Neither answered.

They were too focused, too serious, too “older brother mode” to explain anything. They marched you straight to the nearest building—some random bar—and before you could blink, they pushed the door open and ushered you inside.

Daesung made a beeline for the hallway.

Ji-yong practically guided you into the bathroom.

And then—very dramatically—they closed the door behind you and shoved a handful of pads into your arms.

Pads. Where they even got them that fast, you had no idea.

You stared down at the stack, bewildered. “I… you… wait, you guys carry these?!”

“Of course we do!” Daesung hissed through the door. “We’ve known you your whole life!”

Ji-yong’s voice followed, half panicked, half scolding, all worried: “Just—take care of it, okay? We’ll be right outside. Don’t freak out.”

You were too shocked to speak for a moment. You had expected your first period to be calm, maybe emotional—but definitely not this chaotic, not this dramatic, not surrounded by BigBang trying to act like emergency responders.

And yet… part of you felt strangely safe.

They were worried. They cared. They had your back—literally and figuratively—because that’s what they’ve done since the day you were born.

When you finally stepped out of the bathroom, face warm, pants tied with Ji-yong’s oversized hoodie around your waist, the whole group looked up at you at once.

Ji-yong smiled softly. Daesung sighed with relief. The others pretended not to have been laughing for the whole time.

And for a moment, surrounded by the chaos that was your strange little family, you realized something:

You were never going through anything alone. Not with them.