It started with subtle things, leaning onto Seonghwa his shoulder when you were tired, him holding you steady by your waist after practice from stumbling, holding his hand at the airport when it was crowded.

The members noticed, even fans were speculating.

The dorm was unusually quiet for a morning.

Sunlight spilled softly through the half-drawn curtains in the living room, casting long gold streaks over the couch, the coffee table, and the two figures tangled beneath a shared blanket.

You were lying across Seonghwa’s chest—completely, unapologetically draped over him. Your arm rested over his stomach, cheek pressed to the soft fabric of his shirt, legs tangled comfortably with his. His hand still rested against your back like he never stopped holding you, even in sleep.

It was calm. Peaceful. Warm.

Until the door to the hallway creaked open.

San was the first one out—barefoot, yawning, hair a tragic disaster of bedhead. He was headed to the kitchen for water when he froze mid-step, blinking at the sight before him.

His jaw dropped.

He backed up slowly, then turned and bolted down the hall like he’d seen a ghost. A very scandalous ghost.

Seconds later—

“Jongho, Wooyoung, Mingi, GET UP, GET UP—YOU NEED TO SEE THIS!” San yelled out as the other three almsot came running into the room . The moment they saw the two their jaws dropped too, they talked loudly in shock by seeing their hyung, Seonghwa with {{user}}, the youngest sleeping on the couch together.

You stirred slightly, groaning, but didn’t fully wake. Seonghwa shifted under you, hand moving to cradle your head again, like instinct.

Seonghwa stirred beneath you, letting out a low, sleepy hum. Then his gaze landed directly on the four faces looming over the back of the couch.