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The dorm was alive with chaos that evening, as birthdays in the Stray Kids world usually were. Hyunjin had gone on a mission to decorate the kitchen with streamers and balloons, only for half of them to pop before they were even taped up. Jisung was determined to bake a cake despite Felix insisting he should be banned from the oven after last time’s “molten lava disaster.” Jeongin was making a racket over some new video game, while Chan alternated between trying to mediate and laughing at the chaos he was supposed to be preventing.
It was noisy, warm, familiar—but for Seungmin, it was overwhelming. Birthdays were always strange. He liked the affection, the love from the members and from fans around the world, but it also made him restless. Everyone’s attention on him, everyone asking if he was happy, if he felt older, if he had birthday wishes.
He wanted something quieter. Something real.
So when he caught Changbin’s eye across the room, both of them silently agreeing without a word, it wasn’t hard to slip away.
They left the others to their cake and balloons, walking side by side down the hall toward the bedrooms. Seungmin could hear Jisung shouting about flour in the background, and he rolled his eyes. “Bet you five bucks the cake never makes it out of the oven.”
Changbin snorted. “You’re on. Han’s reckless, but Felix won’t let him destroy your birthday cake. Not twice, anyway.”
Seungmin shook his head, suppressing a smile as he unlocked his bedroom door. Inside, the space felt calm compared to the chaos outside. The air smelled faintly of vanilla—Felix’s doing, no doubt, with his obsession with candles. The beds were neatly made, though Felix’s had a pile of plushies crowding the pillows. Seungmin’s side was simpler, tidy, with a folded blanket at the end.
Changbin wasted no time claiming it. He flopped onto Seungmin’s mattress, tugging a pillow under his chin with a satisfied sigh. “Your room smells like Felix,” he muttered, muffled by the fabric.
“That’s because he slept here last night,” Seungmin reminded him, shutting the door behind them. “Don’t be jealous.”
“Jealous?” Changbin’s head popped up, eyes gleaming with that mischievous spark Seungmin knew too well. “Why would I be jealous? I’m not jealous of him.” He smirked, lips curving like he already had the punchline. “But maybe your sheets should smell more like me.”
A pillow flew across the room instantly. Changbin caught it with one hand, laughing as his dimples carved deep into his cheeks.
“You’re the worst,” Seungmin muttered, but the heat rising in his ears betrayed him. He crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed, trying not to give Changbin the satisfaction of a reaction.
Changbin, of course, noticed anyway. He always did.
“You’re blushing, puppy.” His voice softened on the word, teasing but fond.
Seungmin rolled his eyes, but he leaned into it anyway when Changbin’s arm hooked around his waist, tugging him closer until they were pressed together. It was instinct by now, the way their bodies fit side by side.
For a while, they just sat like that. The muffled noise of the other members carried faintly through the door, but it was distant enough to ignore. Here, in the quiet of his own room, Seungmin felt the restless weight of his birthday start to ease.
“You know,” Changbin said after a pause, “there’s something else we should do tonight.”
“What?”
“Watch our 2 Kids Room episode.”
Seungmin stiffened slightly. He’d been expecting the suggestion, but it still made his stomach twist. He usually avoided watching their own content. It was strange seeing himself from the outside—how his expressions looked on camera, how his words sounded when edited together. But this episode was different. Fans had already been quoting it all day, and Seungmin knew exactly what part they were obsessed with.
“Do we have to?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
Changbin grinned at him. “Yes. I want to watch it with you. We’re cute together—might as well enjoy it.”
“You’re impossible,” Seungmin muttered, but he pulled out his laptop anyway, settling it at the foot of the bed.
When the episode began, with its bright graphics and cheerful intro music, both of them fell quiet. The screen showed them sitting side by side on the familiar set, knees angled just barely toward each other, smiles shy but easy.
Watching it felt surreal. Seungmin stole a glance at Changbin, who was watching intently, his dimples showing even when he wasn’t smiling outright.
The first few minutes were easy. They laughed when their on-screen selves teased each other, nudged each other when they remembered a funny moment from filming. Seungmin groaned when he made a bad joke; Changbin clutched his stomach laughing when he heard his own booming laugh echo on the speakers.
“Your laugh is so loud,” Seungmin teased.
“Your voice is so sharp,” Changbin shot back. “We balance each other out.”
The banter was comfortable, familiar. But then the episode shifted into the solo commentary sections. Seungmin’s heart dropped into his stomach. He remembered that day clearly—sitting in the interview chair, answering questions while trying not to overthink. He hadn’t realized then how vulnerable he sounded.
On screen, his own voice filled the room. “Changbin-hyung… he’d make a great husband. He takes care of people so naturally, and he’s dependable. Honestly… I can picture a future with him.”
The room went silent.
Seungmin froze. He stared at the laptop as though he could will it to rewind, to erase what he’d just heard. His pulse pounded in his ears, his face hot. He hadn’t expected to sound so… genuine.
Slowly, he turned his head.
Changbin wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t smirking. He was staring at him with wide eyes, lips parted, as though the ground had shifted beneath him.
“...Puppy,” Changbin whispered, his voice rough. “You never told me you said that.”
Seungmin’s throat went dry. “I—I didn’t think it mattered. It was just an answer.”
“Just an answer?” Changbin repeated, incredulous. “You literally told the entire world you can see a future with me.”
“Not the entire world,” Seungmin mumbled, burying his face against Changbin’s chest. “Only… maybe a few million fans.”
Changbin’s laugh was soft, shaky, his arms tightening around Seungmin protectively. “You’re unbelievable.”
Seungmin peeked up, cheeks burning. “You’re not… weirded out?”
“Weirded out?” Changbin’s dimples appeared, his smile warm and almost reverent. “Puppy, you have no idea how much I needed to hear that.”
Seungmin blinked. “…Needed to?”
Changbin’s thumb brushed along his jaw, gentle. “You’ll see.” He leaned down to press a kiss against Seungmin’s temple, lingering there for a moment. “But first, let me enjoy watching you be all romantic on screen. I think I like this side of you.”
Seungmin groaned and hid his face deeper in his hoodie. “I regret everything.”
“No, you don’t,” Changbin teased. His voice softened. “You meant it. And I’ll never forget it.”
The episode played on, but neither of them were really watching anymore. Seungmin’s heart was still racing, caught somewhere between embarrassment and something much heavier—something that felt suspiciously like hope.
And in Changbin’s pocket, the small velvet box pressed against his thigh like a secret waiting to be revealed.
The glow of the laptop flickered across the walls, but neither of them was really watching anymore. Their voices from the episode still echoed faintly in the background, overlapping with the quiet hum of the dorm’s air conditioning, but the attention in the room had shifted entirely to the here and now: Seungmin, flushed and hiding, and Changbin, looking far too pleased with himself.
“You’re still embarrassed,” Changbin said, his tone hovering between teasing and tender. His fingers traced slow patterns along Seungmin’s arm, just enough to make him squirm. “Your ears are so red I could fry an egg on them.”
Seungmin groaned, shoving his face against Changbin’s hoodie. “Shut up.”
“I’m right, though.” Changbin smirked, tilting his head so he could peek at the top of Seungmin’s hair. “I’ve never seen you look this shy before. It’s cute. Puppy’s finally soft for me.”
The nickname made Seungmin stiffen, as it always did. He tried to keep his voice steady, but it cracked just slightly as he muttered, “You and that word…”
“What word?”
“Puppy.”
Changbin’s grin widened instantly. “Ah, so you admit it’s your word now.”
Seungmin pulled back just enough to glare at him, his brows furrowed in mock irritation. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. Just now.” Changbin tapped his chest proudly. “You can’t take it back. You’re mine. My puppy.”
The blush deepened across Seungmin’s cheeks, and he shoved at Changbin’s shoulder halfheartedly. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously in love with you,” Changbin shot back without hesitation, dimples flashing.
That shut Seungmin up. His eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the bluntness, before darting away as if the ceiling had suddenly become fascinating. His lips pressed into a line, but the way his shoulders relaxed gave him away.
Changbin softened instantly, leaning his head against Seungmin’s. “You really thought you could just say I’d make a good husband, and I wouldn’t make you pay for it?”
“I wasn’t—” Seungmin’s protest faltered, his voice catching. “…I wasn’t trying to confess or anything. It was just an interview.”
“Just an interview?” Changbin’s tone rose an octave in disbelief. He leaned back slightly, pulling Seungmin with him until they were lying across the bed, Seungmin’s back pressed against his chest. “You literally told the cameras you can see a future with me. Puppy, that’s not something you just say.”
Seungmin squirmed in his hold, his embarrassment growing. “Stop calling me that.”
“No,” Changbin said simply, tightening his arms around him. “I like it too much. Fits you perfectly.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re loyal,” Changbin answered, his voice softer now, serious beneath the teasing. “You act all sharp and cold sometimes, but you’re the most affectionate person I know once you let someone in. You wag your tail when you’re happy—don’t deny it.”
Seungmin turned his head, scandalized. “I do not—”
“You do,” Changbin insisted with a grin. “Whenever something good happens, you get this tiny smile and your whole vibe changes. It’s like watching a puppy finally get its treat.”
Seungmin groaned again, covering his face with both hands. “You’re unbearable.”
Changbin carefully pried one of Seungmin’s hands away from his face, threading their fingers together. “Unbearable, but you’re still cuddled up with me on your birthday. What does that say about you?”
“That I have bad taste,” Seungmin muttered, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him, twitching upward.
Changbin kissed the top of his head, lingering there. “No, it says you love me.”
Seungmin went still. The air between them shifted, no longer filled with playful banter but with something heavier, something real. His lashes lowered, and his grip on Changbin’s hand tightened almost imperceptibly.
“…Maybe I do,” he whispered at last, so soft it almost disappeared into the fabric of Changbin’s hoodie.
Changbin’s breath caught. He knew, of course—he’d known for years. But hearing it spoken aloud like that, unguarded, was something else entirely. His chest ached with the weight of it.
“Puppy,” he murmured, voice breaking on the word. “You can’t just say things like that and expect me not to lose my mind.”
Seungmin glanced up at him through his lashes, and for once, there was no shield of sarcasm, no wall of teasing remarks. Just raw honesty. “Maybe that’s the point.”
Changbin laughed, shaky but full of wonder. “You’re dangerous.”
“You like it.”
“Of course I do,” Changbin admitted. His thumb brushed along Seungmin’s jaw, then trailed down to rest against the base of his throat. He leaned in, their noses nearly touching. “You’re everything I like.”
Seungmin’s lips parted as if to reply, but nothing came out. His breath mingled with Changbin’s, the silence between them thick and charged.
And then, slowly, carefully, Seungmin closed the distance.
It wasn’t their first kiss, not by a long shot, but it felt new all the same. Gentle, deliberate, full of all the things they’d both been holding back. Changbin melted instantly, one hand cupping the back of Seungmin’s neck, pulling him closer.
When they pulled apart, Seungmin’s face was flushed, but his eyes were steady. “I meant what I said,” he whispered.
“About the future?” Changbin’s voice was rough, his heart pounding.
Seungmin nodded. “Yeah. I wasn’t saying it just because they asked. I… I can see it. With you.”
The room tilted. Changbin felt like he’d been thrown into a dream, one he didn’t want to wake up from. He kissed Seungmin again, softer this time, reverent, as if to seal the promise between them.
When they finally settled back into each other’s arms, the episode long forgotten, Seungmin tucked his face against Changbin’s shoulder.
“You’re not going to let me live this down, are you?” he mumbled.
“Not a chance,” Changbin said, grinning. He pressed another kiss to Seungmin’s hair. “Happy birthday, puppy.”
Seungmin’s lips curved into a faint smile. “…It is now.”
And with that, they sank into the quiet, two hearts beating in unison, both unknowingly standing on the edge of something bigger than either of them had imagined.
The cake turned out better than anyone expected. Against all odds—and possibly through divine intervention—Jisung managed not to burn it this time. Felix took credit for rescuing it at the last minute, of course, and Hyunjin insisted he should get points for decoration, though the lopsided frosting begged to differ. Still, when the group crowded around the kitchen table, candles glowing against the dim light, Seungmin couldn’t help but smile.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was his. His family.
The chorus of “happy birthday” was loud and chaotic, voices overlapping and clashing in all the wrong ways, but Seungmin didn’t care. He leaned forward, blowing out the candles in one steady breath.
Make a wish, he thought automatically. And for the first time, he realized he didn’t need to. His wish was sitting across from him, dimples on full display as he clapped louder than anyone else, eyes locked only on him.
Changbin.
Changbin’s heart was hammering.
He clapped, he cheered, he even shoved frosting into Jisung’s mouth when he got too close to the cake—but the whole time, his pocket weighed heavy against his thigh, the small velvet box pressing into him like a secret on the verge of exploding.
Tonight.
He’d planned it for weeks. The date had felt perfect: Seungmin’s birthday, the release of their 2 Kids Room episode, everything aligning as though the universe itself had nudged him toward this moment. He’d bought the ring quietly, slipping away between schedules, careful not to leave a trail. He’d rehearsed what he wanted to say in his head a hundred times, only for it all to dissolve into static whenever he pictured Seungmin’s smile.
But after what Seungmin had said during the episode—I can picture a future with him—the timing felt more right than ever.
He just had to survive the party first.
After cake came games. Minho suggested a round of charades, which quickly devolved into chaos when Jeongin started acting out something no one could guess (“It was octopus, how was that not obvious?!”). Hyunjin and Felix launched into an impromptu dance battle in the living room, while Chan filmed everything with his phone, shaking his head but laughing all the same.
Seungmin played along, but he was quieter than usual. Not withdrawn, exactly—he still smiled when Felix struck a ridiculous pose and still snorted when Jisung fell over during a turn—but his eyes kept wandering. Toward the hallway. Toward Changbin.
Changbin noticed. He always did.
When the chaos reached a lull, Seungmin slipped out first. Not obviously—just a casual “I’m going to get some water,” but his gaze flicked toward Changbin, quick and deliberate. A signal.
Changbin’s pulse spiked.
He waited a few beats, pretending to argue with Minho about who had actually won charades, before excusing himself too. “Bathroom,” he mumbled, ignoring the suspicious smirk on Jisung’s face.
Seungmin was waiting in the dimly lit hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. When Changbin approached, he raised a brow.
“You look like you’re about to faint.”
“I’m not,” Changbin lied.
Seungmin’s lips quirked upward, amused. “You’ve been twitchy all night. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Changbin said too quickly. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, feeling the outline of the box and willing himself not to panic.
Seungmin studied him for a long moment, then stepped closer, tilting his head up just slightly. “You’re terrible at hiding things, you know.”
Changbin swallowed hard. The proximity wasn’t unusual—they were always close, always orbiting each other—but tonight, every inch felt charged, weighted. He wanted to blurt it out right then, to drop to his knee in the middle of the hallway and get it over with, but that wasn’t the plan. Seungmin deserved better than a rushed confession between rounds of charades.
“Maybe I’ll tell you later,” Changbin said finally, his voice softer.
Seungmin’s brows drew together in faint suspicion, but he didn’t push. Instead, he brushed their hands together, casual enough that no one passing by would notice, but deliberate enough that Changbin’s chest squeezed tight.
“Later,” Seungmin repeated, his tone making it clear he’d hold him to it.
Later came sooner than expected.
The others eventually wound down, the dorm quieting as members drifted to their dorms. Felix hugged Seungmin goodnight with a chirpy “Happy birthday again!” before disappearing into his bedroom, earbuds already in place. The door clicked shut, leaving Seungmin and Changbin alone in the calm after the storm.
Seungmin flopped onto his bed with a sigh, tugging at the blanket. “Finally. I love them, but they’re exhausting.”
Changbin laughed, settling beside him. “You’re one to talk. You were the star of the show tonight.”
“That’s exactly the problem,” Seungmin muttered, burrowing into the pillow. “Too much attention.”
Changbin tilted his head, watching him. The dim lamplight cast soft shadows across Seungmin’s features—the curve of his cheek, the fall of his hair, the faint crease between his brows. He looked tired, but comfortable. Vulnerable in a way he rarely let others see.
And Changbin’s nerves spiked all over again.
Now. Do it now.
But his hands stayed frozen in his lap, fingers brushing the edge of the velvet box through his pocket.
“Bin,” Seungmin said suddenly, breaking him out of his spiral.
“Yeah?”
“You’re staring.”
Caught, Changbin scratched the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. “Can’t help it. Puppy’s too handsome for his own good.”
Seungmin groaned, dragging the blanket over his face. “Not that again.”
“Yes, that again.” Changbin tugged the blanket down just enough to see his flushed cheeks. “You’ll always be my puppy. Especially tonight.”
“Why especially tonight?”
Changbin’s heart stopped. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He was so close to spilling everything, but the weight of it pressed against his chest, heavy and terrifying.
Seungmin’s eyes narrowed. “…You’re definitely hiding something.”
Changbin forced a laugh, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Maybe I just like seeing you flustered.”
Seungmin swatted at him, but the suspicion in his gaze lingered.
And as they lay there, side by side in the quiet, Changbin knew the window was closing. If he didn’t act soon, Seungmin would pry the truth out of him before he was ready.
He tightened his grip on the velvet box in his pocket.
Just a little longer, he told himself. Wait until the moment feels right.
But Seungmin’s words from the episode echoed in his head—I can picture a future with him—and the right moment felt like it was already here.
The quiet stretched between them, warm but charged. The dorm had settled into sleep; faint laughter from Felix's room had long since faded, and his music was nothing more than a muffled hum through the wall. In Seungmin’s room, the only sound was the soft whir of the heater and their breaths, steady but uneven, mingling in the stillness.
Changbin shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at Seungmin. His chest tightened at the sight—Seungmin curled against him, lashes low, hair a little messy from where it pressed against the pillow. Relaxed, but not entirely. His fingers twitched faintly at his side, as if his body was mirroring the tension in the room.
“Bin,” Seungmin said softly.
“Yeah?”
“You’re doing that thing again.”
“…What thing?”
“Thinking so loud I can hear it.”
Changbin let out a shaky laugh, caught. He wanted to deflect, to tease, but the words stuck in his throat. This was it. He couldn’t hold it back anymore—not after everything Seungmin had said tonight, not with the ring practically burning a hole through his pocket.
He sat up fully, heart racing.
Seungmin blinked at him, propping himself up on his elbows. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” Changbin’s voice cracked, betraying him. He swallowed hard, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “Everything’s… actually perfect. Which is why I need to do this now, before I explode.”
Seungmin frowned slightly, confused. “…Do what?”
Changbin’s hands shook as he reached into his hoodie pocket. His fingers brushed over the velvet, and for a terrifying second he considered backing out. But then he looked at Seungmin—really looked—and the fear twisted into something else entirely.
Love. Pure, overwhelming love.
He pulled the box out.
Seungmin froze. His eyes darted from the object in Changbin’s hand to his face, wide and uncomprehending. “Changbin…?”
“I was going to wait,” Changbin admitted, his voice trembling. “I had this whole plan in my head—after everyone was asleep, maybe tomorrow, maybe with candles or something romantic—but then you had to go and say those things on the episode.” He laughed weakly, tears already prickling at the corners of his eyes. “You had to say you could see a future with me. And, Min, I can’t sit here pretending like I don’t want the exact same thing.”
Seungmin’s lips parted, but no sound came out. His hands curled into the blanket, knuckles white.
Changbin opened the box.
The ring gleamed softly in the dim light—simple, silver, elegant, but with a subtle detail etched into the band: a tiny constellation, barely visible unless you looked closely. Seungmin’s favorite.
Seungmin’s breath hitched.
“I’ve been carrying this around for weeks,” Changbin said, voice breaking. “Every time I looked at you, every time you laughed at one of my dumb jokes or gave me that look when I was being too loud, I wanted to give it to you. To tell you I don’t just love you—I want to spend my whole life proving it.”
He took a shaky breath, sinking to one knee beside the bed. “Kim Seungmin… puppy… will you marry me?”
The silence that followed felt endless. Changbin’s heart hammered so hard it hurt. He searched Seungmin’s face, terrified of what he might find.
Seungmin’s eyes were wide, shimmering with tears he hadn’t even realized were falling. His lips trembled as he tried to form words, but his throat closed around them.
Finally, he choked out, “You idiot.”
Changbin blinked, startled. “…What?”
“You absolute, reckless idiot,” Seungmin repeated, voice thick. He scrambled upright, grabbing Changbin by the hoodie and pulling him into a desperate kiss. It was messy, salty with tears, but full of everything words couldn’t capture.
When they broke apart, Seungmin pressed his forehead against Changbin’s, laughing breathlessly. “Of course I’ll marry you. I’ve been waiting for you to ask, you know.”
Changbin’s tears spilled over then, unrestrained. Relief crashed through him like a tidal wave, leaving him laughing and crying all at once. “Puppy…”
Seungmin cupped his face, thumbs brushing away the tears that only kept coming. “You’ve been planning this all along, haven’t you?”
“Since forever,” Changbin confessed, voice raw. “I’ve been in love with you for so long, Min. Five years wasn’t enough. I want every year after this. All of them. With you.”
Seungmin’s own tears slipped down his cheeks, but his smile was radiant, brighter than any candle or balloon from earlier. “You’re lucky I feel the same way.”
With trembling hands, Changbin slid the ring onto Seungmin’s finger. It fit perfectly, as though it had always belonged there. Seungmin stared at it, breath catching, before launching himself into Changbin’s arms again.
They collapsed onto the bed in a heap of limbs and laughter, clinging to each other like lifelines.
“I can’t believe you actually did it,” Seungmin whispered against his chest, his voice thick with wonder.
“I can’t believe you said yes,” Changbin whispered back, pressing a kiss into his hair.
Seungmin pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes shining. “You really thought I wouldn’t?”
“I was scared,” Changbin admitted. “You’re… everything. And the thought of losing you—”
“You won’t,” Seungmin cut in firmly. His hand found Changbin’s, threading their fingers together, the ring gleaming between them. “Not now. Not ever.”
Changbin’s throat tightened all over again. He kissed Seungmin then, slow and reverent, as though sealing a vow.
When they finally settled, curled together beneath the blanket, exhaustion pulling them down, Changbin whispered the nickname one more time. “Goodnight, puppy.”
Seungmin smiled, eyes fluttering shut. “…Goodnight, fiancé.”
And with that, they drifted into sleep, hearts steady, futures entwined.
Sunlight filtered lazily through the blinds of the dorm, painting warm stripes across the floor. The apartment was quieter than usual, though hints of last night’s chaos lingered: a stray streamer here, a bit of frosting smeared on the counter there. The faint smell of Felix’s vanilla candles still lingered, stubborn in its way.
Seungmin woke first, slowly, still tangled in the blankets with Changbin pressed against his side. The ring on his finger gleamed softly in the morning light, cool and weighty, a constant reminder that last night had been real. Not a dream, not a fleeting feeling—real.
He let himself linger in the quiet, tracing the outline of the ring with a fingertip, a small smile tugging at his lips. It fits. It’s real. We’re real.
Changbin stirred beside him, groaning and stretching lazily. “Morning, puppy.”
Seungmin laughed softly, rolling over to press a quick kiss to his temple. “Morning. Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah,” Changbin murmured, his voice husky with sleep. “Better than ever. Because you’re here.”
Seungmin shook his head, blushing faintly. “You’re hopeless.”
“I’m hopelessly in love with you,” Changbin added, smirking but not opening his eyes. “Just to clarify.”
Seungmin rolled his eyes, but his heart fluttered anyway. He leaned into Changbin, breathing in the comfort of their shared warmth.
By late morning, the members began to gather in Seungmin and Felix's dorm again, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Jisung was attempting to stack pancakes taller than his elbows, while Felix fussed over getting the syrup just right. Minho had commandeered the TV, attempting to convince everyone to watch a highlight reel of yesterday’s chaotic birthday games.
Seungmin and Changbin emerged from the bedroom hand in hand, casual but careful. Changbin had insisted on walking slightly behind Seungmin, shielding the hand with the ring.
“Where have you two been?” Hyunjin asked, eyes flicking from Seungmin to Changbin suspiciously. “Sleeping in? You missed the pancakes, Min!”
“I… yeah, I just needed a minute,” Seungmin muttered, hoping his voice sounded casual.
Changbin squeezed his hand, a reassuring anchor, but neither of them could ignore the pounding rhythm of their hearts.
Jeongin, ever observant despite his perpetual chaos, narrowed his eyes. “Wait a second… Seungmin, what’s that on your hand?”
Seungmin froze.
Changbin’s chest constricted. He subtly angled himself to block Seungmin’s hand with his own, but it was too late. The glint of silver, delicate and shining, had already caught Jeongin’s attention.
The room went quieter, a subtle tension creeping into the normally noisy dorm.
“What is that?” Minho asked, leaning in, sharp eyes scanning.
Seungmin’s stomach dropped. His first instinct was to tuck the hand into his pocket, but the ring caught the morning sunlight just enough to reflect across the table.
“Uh… it’s nothing,” Seungmin stammered.
“Nothing?” Felix tilted his head, puzzled. “That looks like… a ring.”
Changbin exhaled softly, voice calm but firm. “It’s something between us. Please don’t make a big deal out of it.”
The tension hung for a heartbeat. Jeongin’s jaw dropped slightly, Hyunjin blinked twice in surprise, and even Minho’s usual calm demeanor faltered for a split second.
Then Seungmin, ever practical, tried to defuse the situation. “Really, it’s… personal.”
But the group wasn’t ready to let it slide.
“Seungminnie,” Felix said carefully, leaning forward with a sly smile. “You’re wearing a ring. Did… Bin propose?”
Seungmin’s heart skipped. The nickname, the way Felix didn’t even hide that he knew something, made the room feel impossibly small.
Changbin, quick to protect, leaned in close to Seungmin, lowering his voice. “I asked him to wait before we tell anyone, Felix. Let it go, okay?”
Felix raised his hands in mock surrender, though his smile never faltered. “Okay… for now. But you two are telling everyone eventually, right?”
Seungmin let out a quiet laugh, the tension easing slightly. “Eventually.”
Still, the others weren’t finished. Minho’s eyes gleamed, sharp and calculating. “Wait a minute. That’s definitely a proposal ring. Don’t try to hide it. I will find out eventually, and you don’t want me asking questions.”
Seungmin’s hands curled into the blanket of his lap, tightening around his hoodie. Changbin leaned closer, murmuring, “Ignore him. He’s harmless… mostly.”
Hyunjin snorted. “Harmless, he says. You two are already in deep trouble.”
Jeongin, still wide-eyed, piped up again. “Wait—so… you’re engaged?”
Seungmin flushed. “…Yes. We are.”
The room exploded in excitement. Felix jumped up, clapping, while Hyunjin nearly fell off the couch. Minho raised both eyebrows, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. Jisung clutched his pancake spatula like a sword, eyes round with awe.
Changbin, meanwhile, let out a soft laugh, leaning his head against Seungmin’s shoulder. “See? Told you, puppy. Everything’s fine.”
Seungmin buried his face into Changbin’s chest, laughing despite himself. “You really don’t make anything easy, do you?”
“Not when it comes to you,” Changbin replied, voice gentle but teasing. “Not when it comes to us.”
For a few moments, the dorm was filled with chatter and laughter again, but now the warmth carried an extra glow. There were congratulations and teasing remarks, questions about the story behind the proposal, and quiet smiles shared between Seungmin and Changbin when the group wasn’t looking.
At one point, Jeongin leaned over and whispered to Felix, “Do you think anyone else knows?”
Felix shook his head, grinning. “I don’t think so. But we’ll see how long they can keep it secret from the rest of the fans.”
Seungmin’s hand found Changbin’s under the table, their fingers interlaced, the ring glinting softly. Changbin pressed a kiss to the back of his hand.
“Happy birthday, puppy,” he murmured.
Seungmin smiled, leaning into him. “…And happy us,” he whispered back.
For the first time that morning, Seungmin felt completely at ease. The chaos of the dorm, the teasing, the laughter—it all faded into the background. He had Changbin, he had their secret, and now, their promise.
And somehow, that made even the noise feel like music.