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The door swung open at nearly 1:30 a.m., hinges creaking like they were just as tired as the five boys stumbling through. Shoes were kicked off without aim, bags dropped wherever they landed.
“I may not wake up tomorrow,” Juhoon groaned, collapsing onto the couch face-first. His muffled voice came out somewhere between despair and sleep. “I can’t feel my legs.”
Martin kicked off his sneakers beside him, laughing. “Stop being so dramatic, Jju.”
“Excuse me?” Juhoon turned his head just enough to glare weakly. “At least I didn’t smack Seonghyeon in the face with my arm.”
“That was one time,” Martin defended, voice sharp but lazy around the edges.
“It was three,” Seonghyeon corrected gently, setting his bag down with a sigh. “And Keonho has video proof.”
Keonho was too tired to join in, sprawled flat on the rug with his limbs in every direction.
The door shut softly behind them as James appeared, a familiar crinkle of plastic bags in his hands. “Nobody’s dying,” he said in his hyung voice — which, tonight, sounded more like a lullaby. “I brought snacks.”
That earned him a collective, groggy cheer.
He emptied the bags on the coffee table — chocolate milk, chips, banana bread, and energy drinks. “Refuel,” he said simply, collapsing beside Keonho.
“You’re a saint,” Keonho mumbled, not moving an inch but reaching out weakly until James placed a chocolate milk tetra in his hand. He sipped, eyes fluttering shut. “I think I love you, hyung.”
“Only when I bring food,” James teased.
Keonho shrugged.
Within minutes, the living room looked like a battlefield of exhaustion — blankets half-pulled over legs, snack crumbs everywhere, soft laughter weaving through the dim light. The TV played something unimportant in the background, a comforting buzz that filled the silence.
Martin ended up at the corner of the couch with Juhoon’s head resting lazily on his thigh, while Seonghyeon sat on the rug near Keonho, absentmindedly brushing through his messy hair.
“Your hair’s impossible,” Seonghyeon muttered.
“Just say you’re useless,” Keonho replied sleepily.
“Just stop moving, you gremlin.”
“I can’t move. I’m paralyzed.”
That made James laugh — a low, tired laugh that made the others smile too, even through their fatigue.
“Juhoon,” Martin said softly, looking down at him. “You good?”
Juhoon hummed, half-asleep. “Define ‘good.’”
“You didn’t eat anything yet.”
Juhoon didn’t move. “Feed me.”
Martin raised an eyebrow but grabbed a piece of banana bread anyway, tearing off a bite and holding it near Juhoon’s mouth. “Open.”
Juhoon cracked one eye open. “You’re dangerously close to getting bitten.”
“Do it, coward.”
Juhoon took the bite — and then smiled lazily, crumbs still on his lip. “You’re nice when you’re tired.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
“I’ll put it in my will.”
Across the room, Seonghyeon sighed softly. “You two sound like married couple.”
Keonho giggled into his blanket.
James rolled his eyes, stretching out on the rug beside them, his arm automatically finding Keonho’s shoulder to pull him closer. “Alright, everyone,” he said quietly. “Lights off in five.”
No one moved.
After a few minutes, James leaned up, grabbed the remote, and dimmed the lights. Warm, soft darkness filled the room.
Seonghyeon pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and tossed it haphazardly over whoever it reached. “That’s close enough,” he said when Martin’s foot stuck out.
James got up again, gently tucking the blanket around Juhoon and Martin. He did the same for Seonghyeon and Keonho, smoothing a hand over each of their heads as he went. It wasn’t dramatic — just small gestures that said everything words didn’t need to.
“Thanks, hyung,” Keonho mumbled, eyes already shut.
“Sleep,” James whispered. “We’ve got another long day tomorrow. We still haven’t perfected ‘Fashion’.”
“Don’t remind us,” Seonghyeon yawned.
“Hey,” Martin said softly after a pause, “we did good today.”
Juhoon hummed from below him. “You did great,” he murmured, barely audible. “All of you.”
James smiled faintly, eyes tracing over his members — his family. “Yeah,” he said. “We really did.”
A comfortable silence settled over the room. The kind that only exists between people who have given everything to the same dream.
Juhoon shifted, just slightly, his hand brushing against Martin’s arm — a quiet “thank you.” Keonho, half-asleep, pressed a drowsy kiss to Seonghyeon’s shoulder before mumbling something incoherent. Seonghyeon smiled and rested his chin lightly on Keonho’s hair.
And James — the last one awake — just watched them for a moment. His chest felt full in that warm, wordless way.
He reached down, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Keonho’s head, then another to Juhoon’s hair. “Good night, you idiots,” he whispered.
No one answered, but he didn’t need them to.
Five steady breaths filled the quiet. One soft blanket, five tired hearts, and the echo of laughter that still lingered in the air.
For tonight, they didn’t need to be idols. Just boys — tangled together in exhaustion, in comfort, in love that didn’t need saying.
When the music faded, this was what remained.