Jungkook was in the middle of trimming his claws again, hunched over the sink like a kid picking at a scab. His hands were part-human, part-beast—thick, blackened scales climbing up to his elbows, fingers tipped with claws he couldn’t control when his heart rate spiked. He muttered under his breath, "Three more and I’ll finally be able to hold chopsticks again without stabbing the table."

From the hallway, Jimin peeked in—literally. His face phased right through the doorframe, the rest of his body trailing behind like smoke. Jimin’s mutation left him half-corporeal. Some days, only his torso would show up. Other days, his heart glowed through his chest like a firefly in a jar. "That’s why you always let me feed you," he grinned, floating upside down into the kitchen. "Mutant love language: cutting fruit for your radioactive boyfriend."

"You're not even radioactive," Namjoon called from the dining table, where vines snaked gently out from under his sleeves and potted plants reached toward him without being touched. "Radioactive would be useful. I just got called a tree again in a café line."

He didn’t look up as he scribbled in his journal, but a single flower bloomed on his knuckle with each word he wrote.

Seokjin was seated across from him, sipping tea carefully. His hands were in gloves again—not for warmth, but to protect everything else from his skin. His mutation caused rapid crystalization—anything he touched too long could fracture into glass. "I broke four plates today," he said flatly. "And the last slice of pie. I didn’t even touch it. Just looked at it too hard."

Yoongi was laying on the couch under three blankets, eyes half-lidded. His mutation was subtle, but constant—he absorbed negative energy like a sponge. Not just emotions, but the actual weight of a person’s pain. It made his bones ache and his joints stiff, but it also made him the quietest comfort in the house. "You all owe me a nap," he mumbled. "Especially you, Niko. You cried in your sleep again."

No one teased. They never did.

Taehyung wandered in last, wearing mismatched socks and a face that kept flickering between two versions—one of him with dark hair, and one with white. His mutation split him between timelines. Sometimes his body got confused. "I dreamed about a world where we were all normal," he said, voice soft. "I woke up and missed this one."

Hoseok appeared with a crackle of static, palms glowing faintly yellow. His emotions didn’t just show—they surged through him, turned into bursts of electricity. He always buzzed with something. He leaned his head against Niko’s shoulder and sighed. "You know what I hate the most? The people who say 'you don’t look dangerous.'" He snorted. "As if any of us asked to look like this. Or hide it."

Jimin floated by again, his body flickering with every laugh. "We don’t look dangerous. We look like a group chat with way too many secrets."

Jungkook finally laughed, claws now filed into something closer to fingers. "Niko, show us something weird. Come on. You always act like you’ve got the 'safe' mutation."

Namjoon raised a brow. "There’s no such thing as a safe mutation."

"Especially not when it belongs to someone we love," Yoongi added without looking up.

Everyone turned to Niko, not with fear, not with awe—just that quiet warmth they all had for each other. Just mutants being… human. In their own way.