The kitchen smelled incredible.
Min-jun had outdone himself — the table was covered with dishes I couldn't name but desperately wanted to try. Japchae glistening with sesame oil. Some kind of braised meat that fell apart at the touch of chopsticks. Perfectly fluffy rice. Banchan arranged in small dishes like edible art.
"You made all of this in an hour?" I stared at the spread, genuinely impressed, my mouth already watering at the array of colors and scents before me.
"Closer to two." Min-jun set down a final dish — some kind of stew that smelled like home and comfort — and smiled at my reaction, his dimples deepening with obvious pleasure at my appreciation. "But I like cooking. It relaxes me."
"He stress-cooks." Tae-min was already reaching for the japchae, his chopsticks extended hopefully, only to have his hand swatted away by Min-jun's dish towel. "When you were sick, he made enough food to feed the whole building."
"I gave some to the security guards." Min-jun's ears went pink as he took his seat, ducking his head to hide his embarrassment. "They appreciated it."
"They asked if you were dying." Jae-won's voice was dry as he settled at the head of the table, but there was warmth underneath the words, affection softening the edges. "They thought it was a going-away feast."
"It was a please-get-better feast." Min-jun protested, gesturing for everyone to start eating with an impatient wave of his hand. "Very different energy."
I settled into the seat they'd left for me — between Hwan and Tae-min, across from Jin-ho. It felt deliberate, like they'd arranged themselves around me without making it obvious. Protective without caging.
"So." Tae-min loaded my plate before I could protest, piling it high with a little of everything, his movements quick anddecisive. "How was the V-Live? Did Hwan-hyung make a fool of himself?"
"He was perfect." I said it honestly, glancing at Hwan and watching his ears go pink again at the compliment. "Fifty thousand people fell in love with him in real time."
"Only fifty thousand?" Hwan clutched his chest in mock offense, his eyes sparkling with mischief even as a real blush colored his cheeks. "I'm losing my touch."
"The peak was sixty-two thousand." Jin-ho spoke without looking up from his food, his voice matter-of-fact as he picked up a piece of braised meat with his chopsticks. "I was monitoring."
"You were monitoring?" Hwan raised an eyebrow at him, chopsticks pausing halfway to his mouth. "Why?"
"Because I monitor all our lives." Jin-ho finally looked up, something unreadable in his expression as he held Hwan's gaze steadily. "And because I wanted to see how you'd handle it. The first one since..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. The first one since she got here. The first one since everything changed.
"He handled it well." I offered, feeling the need to fill the weighted silence that had settled over the table. "The fans noticed he seemed happy. They were speculating."
"They're always speculating." Jae-won's voice was calm, but I caught the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around his chopsticks. "That's what fans do. As long as they don't have anything concrete, speculation is harmless."
"What happens when they have something concrete?" I asked, suddenly aware of how precarious this all was. I was sitting at their dinner table, wearing Hwan's scent on my wrist, planning to spend tomorrow in Jin-ho's studio. How long before someone found out?
"We'll deal with it when it happens." Jae-won met my eyes across the table, his gaze steady and reassuring, his voice carrying the weight of a promise. "Together. As a pack."
The word settled in my chest, warm and foreign and terrifying. Pack. Was that what I was now? Part of their pack?
"Eat." Min-jun nudged my plate closer to me, his voice gentle but firm, his hazel eyes soft with concern. "You're still recovering. You need the calories."
"Yes sir." I picked up my chopsticks obediently, and caught the flash of surprised pleasure that crossed his face at the honorific. I hadn't really thought about it — it had just slipped out. But the way his scent warmed, the way the rose pink bond pulsed in my chest... maybe it had meant something.
Dinner continued with easy conversation — stories about V-Lives gone wrong, about fan events that had descended into chaos, about the time Tae-min had accidentally started a rumor that he was dating a girl group member by smiling at her during an awards show.
"I was being polite!" Tae-min protested, his face red as a tomato, his voice pitching higher with indignation. "She sneezed! I was saying bless you!"
"You mouthed 'I love you.'" Hwan was laughing so hard he was wheezing, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he clutched his stomach. "It was on camera. Everyone saw it."
"I have a lisp when I'm tired!" Tae-min threw a piece of pickled radish at him, the banchan sailing across the table with impressive accuracy. "It came out wrong!"
"You don't have a lisp." Jin-ho said it flatly, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, cracking his usual stoic expression.
"I do when it's convenient!" Tae-min lobbed another piece of radish, which Jin-ho caught without looking and ate calmly, chewing with deliberate slowness while maintaining eye contact.I found myself laughing along with them, the tension in my shoulders easing with every ridiculous story. This was what they were like together — playful, teasing, comfortable in a way that came from years of shared experience. And they were letting me see it. Letting me in.
After dinner, I helped Min-jun with the dishes despite his protests.
