Chapter Text
The dorm was always a mess—but a lovable, noisy, chaotic kind of mess. Seven college boys crammed in a three-bedroom unit with a shared kitchen, one shared bathroom, and at least three overflowing laundry baskets. Yet, somehow, it worked.
Seokjin was in the living room, sitting cross-legged on the floor, flipping through a textbook while Yoongi lounged beside him on the beanbag chair—close enough that their knees kept brushing. Yoongi didn’t look like he was studying. He never looked like he was studying. But if anyone dared to ask where Seokjin’s "boyfriend" was, the answer came faster than the time Jungkook downed three instant noodles in a row.
“He’s right there,” Jin mumbled, not even looking up.
“Boyfriend?” Jungkook blinked, confused. “Hyung, you don’t have a—oh. Yoongi-hyung?”
"Exactly." Jin turned a page in his textbook. "You always mean him anyway."
Yoongi just snorted and leaned closer, shoulder barely brushing Jin’s arm.
That was enough fuel for Jimin and Taehyung, who had been eavesdropping from the hallway like gossip-starved aunties on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
“You know what that means,” Taehyung whispered dramatically, clutching Jimin’s sleeve.
“Oh, absolutely,” Jimin gasped. “They probably have matching toothbrushes. And Yoongi hyung definitely labels his socks ‘Jin’s property’ in secret.”
“Last night I passed their room and I heard… bubbles.”
“Bubbles?”
“Like bath bubbles. Who knows what goes on in there…”
Meanwhile, inside the very room in question, Yoongi had just offered Jin half a candy bar wordlessly, and Jin had taken it with a soft “thanks.” No eye contact, just a casual bump of elbows.
But to the rest of the house?
“Jin hyung!” Jimin barged into the living room. “Why were there bubbles coming from under your door last night? Are you guys bathing together now?!”
Yoongi looked up with the deadpan of a man who regretted every life choice that led to this moment. “That was my humidifier.”
Jungkook snorted into his cup of banana milk.
“And the laughing?” Taehyung leaned dramatically over the sofa back. “Soft laughter at 1:37 a.m.?”
“I sent Jin a meme,” Yoongi muttered.
Jin, unfazed, just flipped another page. “It was funny.”
“You guys are domestic,” Jimin whispered like it was a scandal.
Namjoon looked up from his laptop. “Can we not assume cohabitation equals co-marriage?”
“I’m not assuming,” Hoseok chimed in, eyes wide and sparkling. “I’m manifesting.”
Yoongi’s groan disappeared beneath the sound of Jin chuckling under his breath.
It was supposed to be a simple group project night.
But with seven college boys from six different majors, “simple” was never on the menu. The only thing on the menu tonight was instant ramyeon, half a bag of marshmallows, and Taehyung’s suspiciously unlabeled thermos of “inspiration juice.”
They had pushed the living room couch aside and laid down a huge mat on the floor where laptops, highlighters, and stress coexisted. Namjoon, ever the organized law/psych major, had drawn a “master plan” on a whiteboard. It was unreadable because Jimin and Jungkook had doodled stick versions of Jin and Yoongi kissing in the corners.
“We’re supposed to be editing the video for our dance portfolio,” Jimin sighed, pressing his forehead against Jungkook’s. “Not witnessing domestic married couple energy across the room.”
“We’re not married,” Jin replied automatically.
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Jimin winked.
Yoongi, who hadn’t said a word for the past ten minutes, casually shifted closer to Jin until their legs touched. No one missed it.
Taehyung, lying upside-down on a pillow, whispered to Hoseok, “Every time someone teases them, Yoongi hyung levels up in proximity.”
“His elbow is now at Level 4: 'Clingy Defensive Boyfriend Who Isn’t Actually the Boyfriend Yet,’” Hoseok whispered back.
Namjoon clapped his hands. “Focus! Jin hyung, I need help measuring the model house. You did architecture. Help me translate these plans.”
Jin moved to get up but Yoongi’s hand lightly tugged on his sleeve.
“I’ll come with you,” he mumbled.
“You’re not in architecture—”
“I’m making sure he doesn’t disappear in this jungle of loud idiots.”
“I heard that,” Jungkook called, mouth full of chips.
While Jin helped Namjoon decipher paper angles and scale, the rest devolved into their usual nonsense.
Jimin and Hoseok were trying to sync a dance video edit on one laptop.
Jungkook was composing a background beat for their intro music.
Taehyung had opened MS Paint for some ungodly reason and was sketching “poster concepts,” which looked more like fan art of Yoongi carrying Jin bridal-style in front of their dorm.
“Taehyung,” Jin said, peeking at the screen. “That’s not even our project.”
“But it’s important for morale!”
“Can I have it framed?” Jimin whispered.
Later, when the clock hit 1:17 a.m., the living room was a war zone of snack wrappers and tangled charger cables. Most of the editing was done, the model house was halfway glued together, and everyone was either half-asleep or giggling about nothing.
Yoongi had Jin’s head on his lap now, scrolling through his phone while Jin mindlessly traced circles on his knee with one finger.
Taehyung gasped. “See! Level 6: ‘LAP PILLOW MODE.’ That’s the final form!”
“No,” Jimin said solemnly. “Final form is a kiss on the forehead and a shared Spotify playlist.”
“They already have that,” Jungkook said without looking up.
Yoongi sighed. “You guys don’t get tired?”
“Nope,” Hoseok grinned. “Because watching you two is better than Netflix.”
Namjoon deadpanned, “Please. We need to graduate.”
But even he didn’t complain when Jin yawned and Yoongi, without thinking, adjusted the pillow under his head and softly whispered, “Sleep here, it’s fine.”
Taehyung stared at the scene like he was watching a live drama.
Jimin wiped an imaginary tear. “What did we do to deserve this content?”