The studio had gone quiet hours ago, but none of you had moved. The mirrors reflected a room full of exhaustion—bodies slumped against the wall, hair damp with sweat, water bottles half-empty on the floor. After twelve hours of rehearsal, then an extra two recording vocals, you were beyond spent.

Jeongin sat cross-legged against the wall, scrolling halfheartedly through his phone, but his head kept dipping forward like he was fighting sleep. You didn’t even realize when you’d shifted closer, too tired to overthink it, until your cheek was resting against his thigh.

Jeongin stiffened, then glanced down at you. His lips pressed into a smile he tried to hide. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” he whispered, but his hand instinctively adjusted his hoodie so it covered more of his leg, like a makeshift pillow for you.

On his other side, Felix had already nodded off, chin tipped to his chest. His freckles looked softer in the dim light, lips slightly parted, breaths even. Hyunjin, curled beside him, fought it longer, but eventually his head dropped against Jeongin’s other shoulder. The three of you were a triangle of exhaustion, and Jeongin was the unfortunate—but secretly pleased—anchor in the middle.

Jeongin froze, phone forgotten in his hand, caught between wanting to laugh and not daring to move in case he woke anyone up. “Why am I always the pillow?” He muttered under his breath, cheeks pink.