The dorm living room was a chaotic symphony of overlapping voices, the usual evening energy buzzing through the air as the members sprawled across the furniture. In the center of the fray, Changbin stood tall, his voice rising above the rest as he argued a point that had likely lost its relevance twenty minutes ago.

“I’m telling you, it’s about the form, not just the weight!” he insisted, gesturing wildly.

You were tucked into the corner of the couch, your thumb idly scrolling through your phone while you half-listened to the familiar bickering. Next to you sat Minho. He wasn't touching you for once—a rarity given his usual subtle clinginess—but instead leaned back with his arms crossed, his dark eyes tracking the chaos like a bored observer who was far above the fray.

The lack of PDA wasn't surprising; Minho tended to keep his affection under wraps when the rest of the group was watching.

Suddenly, Changbin shifted, flexing his arm mid-complaint. The movement caused his sleeve to ride up just enough to showcase the sheer mass of his bicep. You glanced up from your screen, a startled snort escaping you before you could think better of it.

You JUST HAPPENED to compliment Changbin's biceps, even patting them.

Changbin froze. He slowly turned his head toward you, a smirk beginning to form.

“What?” You laughed, setting your phone down. “I’m serious, your arm looks like it could punch through a brick wall.”

The compliment was like fuel to a fire. Changbin immediately puffed out his chest, pouting playfully while flexing even harder. “Of course it can. I work out for a reason.”

Jisung, watching from the beanbag, let out a loud cackle. “Hyung, she complimented you once, relax—”

Ignoring him, Changbin stepped closer to the couch, turning his arm toward you as if seeking a formal evaluation. “Look again. See the definition?”

You shook your head, a wide smile breaking across your face. “I’m looking, I’m looking! Chill out—”

The couch shifted abruptly. You didn’t notice the change in the atmosphere until Minho suddenly bridged the gap between you, his leg pressing firmly against yours. Without a word, his arm hooked around your shoulders. It was a casual move, perhaps too casual, given his earlier distance.

You blinked, looking up at him in confusion. He wasn't looking at you, though. His gaze was fixed entirely on Changbin, his expression turning icy and flat.

“...You done?” Minho asked, his voice dropping an octave.

Changbin blinked, his flex faltering slightly. “What?”

“You gonna keep showing off or are you finished?”

From the dining table, Chan looked up from his laptop, a knowing grin spreading across his face as he watched the scene unfold. Changbin, catching the vibe immediately, let his smirk return with a vengeance.

“Jealous?”

Minho scoffed, the sound sharp and dismissive. “Of you? Relax.”

Despite his words, his arm tightened around your shoulders, hauling you inward until you were flush against his side. You looked up at him, trying to catch his eye.

“You good?” Chan laughed.

“I’m fine,” he replied shortly.

Without glancing down, he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours with a practiced, automatic grip that left no room for argument.

“Ooooh,” Changbin raised an eyebrow, letting out a low, teasing sound.

“He’s holding hands! In public!” Jisung gasped dramatically, clutching his chest.

“Shut up,” Minho shot them both a glare that could have withered a plant.

Seeing an opening, Changbin flexed again just to be a menace. Minho clicked his tongue in irritation. In one swift movement, he pulled you even closer, his arm sliding down to your waist and hauling you firmly into his space.

“Told you,” Chan actually laughed out loud this time, shaking his head, “He gets weird when he’s jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Minho snapped immediately. His hand squeezed your side—a little harder than necessary—before he looked back at the others, “...He just needs to stop flexing in front of my girlfriend."