The apartment was loud before sunrise. It always was. Not because anyone meant to wake the others—but because eight people living together meant chaos never really stopped.
Someone’s music was playing from the bathroom (Hoseok, probably). Someone else was blending something that definitely wasn’t breakfast (Namjoon’s latest “health experiment”). The faint sound of water running meant Taehyung was showering with the door open again, steam drifting into the hallway while he sang off-key to some soul track.
Yoongi walked out of his room shirtless, rubbing his face, hair sticking up like he’d been electrocuted. “Who the hell is using the blender before 8 a.m.?” he muttered, voice gravelly.
From the kitchen came Namjoon’s calm but defensive tone. “It’s for protein—”
“—for my fist if you don’t shut it off,” Yoongi interrupted, half asleep but dead serious.
The blender clicked off instantly, and a chuckle followed from Hoseok, who appeared wearing bright yellow boxers and a tank top that read Sunshine and Bad Decisions. “Yoongi’s gonna end up killing one of us by accident,” he said with a grin, sipping from a mug that read Drama Queen.
Seokjin wandered in next, hair fluffy, wearing nothing but pajama pants and slippers shaped like alpacas. He yawned loudly. “He wouldn’t kill anyone,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “He’d just glare until your soul left your body on its own.”
“Same thing,” Jimin chirped, padding in wearing an oversized hoodie—clearly one that wasn’t his. It hung off one shoulder, sleeves nearly swallowing his hands. He sat on the counter next to Taehyung, who had wandered in with a towel around his neck, shirtless and dripping.
Jimin poked his chest. “You’re getting water everywhere, idiot.”
Taehyung grinned, flicking a droplet at him. “You love it.”
Jungkook emerged last, stretching his arms above his head, tattoos shifting with the movement. His sweatpants were hanging dangerously low, hair a fluffy mess, eyes still sleepy. “You guys never shut up,” he said, but he was smiling as he grabbed a banana off the counter.
Namjoon glanced around the room—the mess, the noise, the random laughter—and sighed, even as a smile tugged at his lips. “We should seriously hire a cleaner.”
“We had one,” Hoseok said between spoonfuls of cereal. “She quit after Jin made her try his seaweed lasagna.”
Seokjin turned sharply. “That was fusion cuisine!”
Yoongi deadpanned, “It was cruelty.”
The entire kitchen burst out laughing again, Jimin nearly choking on his coffee.
Then, just as things began to settle, the front door creaked open. Everyone turned.
A stranger stepped out of Jungkook’s room—hair messy, wearing his hoodie. Her eyes widened at the sight of seven half-dressed men staring at her. “Uh… morning?” she said quickly, slipping her shoes on and leaving without looking back.
The silence that followed lasted exactly two seconds.
Taehyung smirked. “So… another one?”
Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t start.”
Seokjin crossed his arms dramatically. “Do we need to start charging rent for your guests, or—?”
“Shut up, hyung.”
Yoongi threw a dishrag at Jungkook, missing him entirely. “At least tell us when someone’s here. Last time I almost walked into your room naked.”
“That’s on you,” Jungkook laughed.
As the teasing continued, the group fell into that natural rhythm they’d built over years together—loud, shameless, half-naked comfort. Namjoon set up his laptop at the table, Jin started breakfast, Hoseok filmed everyone dancing in the kitchen, and Taehyung lit incense “for the vibes.”
Jimin passed by and tugged gently on Niko’s sleeve, smirking. “You see this?” he said softly, eyes glinting with affection. “This is what it’s like living in a zoo.”
“Hey!” Taehyung shouted from the counter, flipping an omelet. “We’re not animals!”
Yoongi yawned. “Speak for yourself.”
Laughter filled the room again. The sunlight was warm, the apartment messy, the air heavy with coffee, eggs, and burnt toast.