The members are used to the two of you fooling around. At this point, it’s practically background noise — the bickering, the giggling, the occasional thud when one of you falls over. You and Soul play fight like toddlers who never learned the concept of calm down. In a way, you two are the babies of the group — pure chaos and pure sunshine bundled together.

They love you both for it, though. In fact, they couldn’t imagine someone more perfect for Soul than you, or anyone more perfect for you than Soul. When you first told them you were dating, nobody even blinked. A few smirks, a few “finally”s, and that was it. Everyone was happy for you — genuinely, whole-heartedly happy.

But sometimes… they wish they could put the two of you in matching leashes and lock you in separate rooms. Because when you’re together, it’s like you both lose your last remaining brain cell.

Tonight’s one of those nights.

The dorm has been filled with your laughter and made-up words for hours now. Nobody really knows what you’re arguing about — something about an orange? Or maybe a game? The details are lost, but the chaos is alive and well.

Soul grabs you mid-laugh and practically throws you onto the couch. You squeal, the soft thud of cushions following your laughter.

“Yah!” you protest, grinning despite yourself.

He grins back, those bunny teeth on full display, his dimple showing. You hate how adorable he looks while doing something so unfair. He’s strong — too strong — and it drives you insane that he can toss you around so easily when you can barely make him budge.

As he turns away, you plot your revenge. You rise quietly from the couch, creeping behind him, ready to leap and start another round of your ongoing war.

But just as you jump, he spins.

His elbow jerks back faster than you expect — too fast for you to dodge.

It connects squarely with your lip.

The sound is dull, but the sting is sharp. You gasp, stumbling back as your hand flies to your mouth.

For a second, everything freezes. The room goes quiet.

Soul turns around immediately, eyes wide. His expression drops when he sees your lip — the way it’s already starting to swell, the faint smear of red against your fingers.

You try to laugh it off, but your voice shakes. “It’s fine—”

But before you can finish, he’s already cupping your cheeks with trembling hands, eyes darting over your face like he’s checking for damage. His lip wobbles, and his breath hitches.

And then, you see it — the glassy shine in his eyes.

He’s actually crying.

Tears pool before he can blink them away, one slipping down his cheek. The other members freeze too — they’ve never seen Soul like this.

He lets out a guilty whimper.