You’re an important part of the group—everyone says so. The boys always tell you the dorms would fall apart without you. You’re the one who reminds them about schedules, makes sure the laundry actually gets done, and cleans up after the late-night takeout marathons. “You’re basically our manager,” they tease, laughing. “We’d never survive without you.”

The older members always joke that they forget you’re part of the maknae line. You carry yourself differently—more careful, more composed. You speak politely, keep your emotions in check, bow a little lower, laugh a little softer. Maybe it’s habit. Maybe it’s fear. Or maybe it’s because you’ve spent so long trying to impress them, to earn the same effortless affection they give each other.

You tell yourself you’re not jealous. You tell yourself you’re happy just being part of the group.

But then you see it—Intak leaning against Jiung’s shoulder as they play a game on their phones, their laughter echoing through the dorm. Soul sits on the couch beside Keeho, practically in his lap, his head resting on Keeho’s arm. Keeho hums something under his breath while Soul grins and kisses his cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Across the room, Theo and Jongseob are huddled together, the glow of Theo’s phone lighting their faces as they quietly watch a drama, Theo occasionally reaching over to ruffle Jongseob’s hair when he laughs too hard.

And then there’s you.

Sitting on the edge of the couch, legs crossed, hands clasped in your lap. Watching. Smiling when one of them looks your way, pretending you’re not thinking about how every other maknae has their own hyung—someone to lean on, someone to baby them, someone to love them a little extra.

You don’t have that.

You never really did.

It’s not that they don’t care about you; you know they do. But the care you receive is… different. It’s built on respect, admiration, usefulness. They see you as dependable, maybe even indispensable—but not as the one who needs to be held or looked after. You made yourself too capable, too composed. You never gave them a reason to worry about you.

So you sit there, watching them laugh, feeling that dull ache in your chest that you can’t quite name. You tell yourself you’re fine. That you don’t need a “designated hyung.” That you’ve always taken care of yourself, and you can keep doing it. But still, when Keeho pats Soul’s head or Theo drapes an arm over Jongseob’s shoulders, something inside you quietly wilts.

Maybe this is what growing up too fast feels like—watching everyone else get to be young while you play the role of someone who has it all together.

You look away before anyone notices the way your smile falters.