The dorm felt almost unreal when we stepped inside.

Too quiet. Too normal.

Like the walls had no idea that a few hours ago, we stood under blinding lights with cameras flashing, a roaring crowd chanting our name.

I still felt the echo of the stage in my chest, the phantom vibration of bass and cheers buzzing under my skin.

We’d done it.

Our debut stage was over.

The company van dropped us off around midnight. Nobody said much on the way back — just small noises of exhaustion. Except Garam, he praised us and yapped our ears off.

Now, in the dim dorm light, everyone moved like ghosts. Bags dropped onto the floor, jackets thrown over chairs, shoes half-off.

Yujun slumped face-first onto the couch without even taking off his mic tape.

Jiahao sat down beside him and sighed like a man twice his age.

“Well,” Jiahao muttered, rubbing his face, “that was great, a bit chaotic.”

“Controlled chaos,” Geon corrected, flopping into the armchair. “We didn’t die. I call that a success.”

“Speak for yourself,” Yujun’s muffled voice came from the couch cushions. “My soul left during the bridge.”

Boom let out a giggle. “Hyung, your high note was insane! You almost broke my eardrum.”

“That’s how you know it was perfect,” Bang added proudly, already scrolling through his phone. “The fans are freaking out online. Look.”

He shoved the screen toward us — a flood of notifications, comments, hashtags. #V1NE_DEBUT, #INSANECONCEPT, #MINJAE_MAINVOCAL #ICANTCHOOSEAVISUALHELP

I blinked at it all, the numbers too big to process.

Views climbing by the minute. Mentions, retweets, fancams already spreading like wildfire.

Our music video had gone live right before the stage started. I hadn’t even watched it yet — the idea felt too strange. Seeing myself on screen, pretending to be something divine, something dangerous… it was all too much to absorb.

Renji came out of his room, towel around his neck, hair damp from a quick shower. His voice was quiet but sure. “We did good today.”

Everyone turned to look at him. Renji wasn’t one to hand out compliments easily, so his words hit heavier than applause.

“Good?” Jiahao said with a grin. “We killed it.”

“Yeah,” I added, sinking into the couch beside Yujun. My body felt like lead, but my mind was still running. “I think that’s the most surreal thing I’ve ever done.”

“The lights, the smoke, the crowd—” Geon exhaled, shaking his head. “It didn’t even feel real.”

“It was real,” Yujun mumbled. “Too real. My heart’s still beating like it’s trying to escape my chest.”

Bang raised his phone again, grinning. “Look at this clip! When Jiahao’s camera zoomed in during the pre-chorus — everyone’s going feral in the comments.”

Jiahao smirked, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder. “Visuals, baby.”

Boom fake-gagged. “I’m reporting this for delusion.”

“Shut up,” Jiahao said, tossing a cushion at him.

Their laughter filled the room, light and warm, bouncing off the walls that used to feel too small.

I leaned back, letting the sound wash over me.

For the first time since stepping into this dorm, I let myself breathe.

It was over. The waiting, the nerves, the endless rehearsals, the fear of failure.

We’d done it — and the world had seen us.

Renji sat down next to me, close enough that our shoulders brushed. “You were great,” he said quietly, just for me.

I turned to look at him. His expression was soft, a faint smile ghosting his lips. “You too,” I replied. “All of you were.”

He nodded once, gaze drifting toward the others — Boom draped over the back of the couch, Geon on the brink of death, Yujun scrolling through his phone with bleary eyes.

“This feels weird,” I said after a while. “It’s like… everything we’ve been building up to just happened. And now it’s done.”

Renji tilted his head slightly. “You mean it feels empty?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “A little.”

He thought for a second, then said, “That’s because we’re just getting started. From Monday our schedule will be insane.”

Something in his tone made my chest tighten again — that quiet confidence, the way he said we.

I smiled faintly. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

The twins suddenly burst out laughing at some meme, snapping me back to reality.

Whatever I’d been about to say vanished, replaced by the simple, grounding comfort of being here — with them.

Once Garam disappeared from the apartment, Geon smirked. “So… celebration?”

“Celebration,” Bang echoed.

Renji looked over at me, eyes glinting with something that wasn’t just exhaustion. “You in?”

I nodded, a tired grin tugging at my lips. “Yeah. Let’s celebrate properly.”

“Alright,” Jiahao said, stretching his arms dramatically, “what’s the move? Chicken? Pizza? Or do we go full celebration mode and order both?”

“Both,” Yujun said immediately from the couch, still lying face-down. “And beer.”

“You can’t even lift your head, but you want beer?” Geon snorted.

“I can drink horizontally,” Yujun mumbled.

“Impressive skill,” Renji said dryly, reaching for his phone. “I’ll order.”

“No, no, I’m ordering,” Boom jumped up, snatching the phone from his hand. “You always pick the boring flavors.”

Renji raised a brow. “Boring?”

“Yeah, last time you ordered ‘original fried’ chicken. You’re like an eighty-year-old man.”

“It’s classic.”

“It’s boring.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Jiahao cut in, pulling out his wallet. “Just order enough to feed a small army. And someone get soju too.”

Bang gasped dramatically. “Hyung, are we finally allowed to drink in the dorm?”

Thirty minutes later, the dorm was filled with the heavenly smell of fried chicken, pizza, and alcohol, - neither on the company-approved diet list.

The coffee table in the living room disappeared under the pile of takeout boxes, sauce cups, and cans of beer that Yujun lined up with alarming precision.

“To our debut!” Jiahao raised his can, grinning wide.

“To not embarrassing ourselves!” Geon added.

“To Renji’s deadpan face during the chorus!” Boom shouted.

Renji threw a napkin at him. “You were the one who tripped on the stairs once we wrapped up.”

“That was choreographed!” Boom protested, which only made everyone laugh harder.

“To Boom’s accidental choreography!” Yujun declared, and they all clinked cans together.

The first sip of beer burned down my throat, light and bitter. I hadn’t realized how much I needed this—just laughter, noise, and the feeling of being normal again.

The twins were already halfway to chaos, arguing over which of them hit their note cleaner during the performance.

Yujun was leaning back on the couch, legs crossed, narrating their argument like a sportscaster.

Geon had somehow started a debate about which one of us would survive a zombie apocalypse (“Definitely not Minjae, he’d try to reason with the zombies,” he said).

And Jiahao was recording all of it, giggling like a maniac.

Renji, of course, sat beside me, calm and collected as ever—until I caught him trying to hide a smile behind his can.

“You’re enjoying this,” I said, nudging him lightly.

He tilted his head. “Am I not allowed to?”

“It’s just rare to see you smile without a filter of sarcasm.”

He looked at me, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You bring out my soft side, apparently.”

My chest did that stupid tightening thing again, the one I kept pretending was acid reflux.

Before I could respond, Geon pointed straight at us.

“See?! Look at them!” he said, slurring slightly. “This is exactly what I’m talking about!”

Renji and I froze. “What?” I asked cautiously.

“The touching! The whispering! The couple energy!” Geon declared dramatically, waving his chopsticks.

“Even the fans are gonna notice if you keep staring at each other like that!”

Yujun perked up immediately. “Oh, it’s been noticed,” he said. “There’s already a ‘RenJae’ hashtag trending.”

“What?!” I nearly choked on my beer.

“Relax, it’s harmless,” Jiahao said, smirking. “You two just look good together. Good chemistry.”

“I’m changing dorms,” I muttered.

Renji didn’t even flinch. He took another sip of beer and said casually, “Why? I like our room.”

The room exploded.

“HE LIKES YOUR ROOM!” Boom screamed.

Bang was howling with laughter. “Oh my god, hyung, that was smooth!”

Even Jiahao was wheezing. “Renji, please, I wasn’t prepared for that level of flirt.”

Renji just shrugged, his usual blank expression betraying nothing, though I could swear his ears turned a little red.

“Stop making stuff up,” I said, trying—and failing—to hide my smile.

“You’re smiling, though,” Geon teased, leaning across the table. “That’s suspicious.”

“Shut up and eat your chicken,” I shot back, tossing a napkin at him.

The chaos continued well into the night.

By the time the last can clinked into the trash bag, Yujun was singing off-key, the twins were asleep on top of each other like stacked laundry, and Jiahao was promising to frame the empty pizza box as a “symbol of victory.”

I ended up on the couch, leaning back against Renji’s shoulder, half-drunk and fully content.

The lights were dim, the room warm and messy, the faint buzz of laughter still hanging in the air.

And in that hazy, blissful moment, I realized something simple:

For all the lies, for all the things I was hiding, this—they—felt real.

Maybe too real.

Renji’s voice was low beside me. “You look like you’re thinking too much again.”

“Maybe,” I admitted, without opening my eyes. “But I think I’m happy.”

"Let's wash up and sleep."

By the time we stumbled back to our room, the hallway felt like it was swaying under my feet. The alcohol wasn’t that strong, but the exhaustion from the day and the thrill of the debut made everything spin a little. Renji held my wrist the whole way, muttering something about me tripping over my own legs.

The dorm was quiet now — the others had already gone to bed. Only the faint hum of the refrigerator and the city outside the window filled the silence.

“I’m showering first,” Renji said, running a hand through his hair. “If you fall asleep before I’m out, I’m leaving you on the floor.”

“Mean,” I mumbled, collapsing face-first into my pillow. His laugh followed him into the bathroom, muffled by the sound of running water.

By the time he came out, steam billowed through the open door, his hair damp, his T-shirt clinging a bit to his shoulders. I squinted up at him. “You look like one of those drama male leads after a tragic breakup.”

“Yeah?” he said, tossing a towel at my face. “Then move, drama boy. Your turn.”

I groaned but dragged myself to the shower. The hot water did no good, I just became more dizzy.

When I returned, Renji was sitting cross-legged on his bed scrolling his phone, a soft lamp casting gold light across the room.

“Finally,” he said without looking up. “You took ages.”

“You said I smelled like fried chicken and sweat earlier,” I reminded him. “I was trying to fix that.”

He chuckled. “I take it back. You smell like shampoo now. Not bad.”

I climbed onto my bed, half-draping myself over the blanket, too lazy to even get under it. Everything felt warm and blurry. The room spun just slightly, in that way that made things feel unreal — like a dream.

Renji put his phone away. “You good?”

“Mmh.” I hummed, my voice muffled in the pillow. “Renji.”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s sleep together like we used to. When we were fourteen.”

He froze for a second. “…You’re drunk.”

“I’m sentimental,” I corrected, turning my head toward him. “That’s different.”

His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?”

I blinked slowly. “Because I’m cute?”

“Because you have no idea what you’re doing.”

He sighed and ran a hand down his face, but eventually gave in. He lay down beside me, the bed dipping slightly under his weight. I immediately turned toward him, curling closer until I was able to properly cuddle him.

“Minjae,” he muttered, voice lower now, the kind of tone that sounded more like a plea than a warning.

“Hm?”

“You can’t just…” He exhaled, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

His arm rested hesitantly around my waist, just light enough that I could pull away if I wanted — but I didn’t. I only nuzzled closer, half-asleep, half-aware of the quick thump of his heartbeat against my cheek.

“I missed this,” I murmured.

Renji swallowed hard. “Yeah. Me too.”

The silence stretched, soft and heavy. The faint city lights outside flickered against the wall. I drifted between wakefulness and sleep, caught somewhere between comfort and something deeper I didn’t want to name.

Just before I fell asleep, I heard him whisper — so quietly I almost thought I imagined it:

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Minjae.” accompanied by a light kiss on my forehead.