In the center of it all, Beom Seok stood pouting. He looked down at himself with palpable disdain. The outfit—a simple gray cotton T-shirt and loose sweatpants—was a necessary evil for dance practice, but he wore it like a personal insult.

"I will sw—" he began, his voice a dramatic whine.

"—you will switch to a dress shirt the second our dancing training is done?" Kangmin finished without even looking up from his hamstring stretch, his voice a flat, deadpan monotone.

Beom Seok’s jaw dropped. "I don't even fin—"

"—finish your thought? We know," Minho chimed in, swooping in to vigorously ruffle Beom Seok's already practice-mussed hair, making him yelp in protest. "We're literally on our path to our 11th year. We know your train of thought, especially when it's on the tracks to Dress Shirt Station."

Beom Seok squirmed away, trying to pat his hair back into some semblance of order. "Aish! Hyung! At least during vocal training, let me—"

"—Wear a dress shirt?" all five other members chorused in unison, their voices blending into a single, amused, and utterly exasperated refrain.

Beom Seok froze, his mouth still open mid-protest. He looked at the circle of his hyungs, all of whom were now grinning at him. His shoulders slumped in ultimate defeat.

"...You guys keep cutting me!" he groaned, his voice echoing through the practice room in a perfect blend of genuine frustration and performative despair.

It was just another day in the life of BTSB.

The intense dance practice finally ended, the last beats of the song fading into the heavy breathing of the members. As always, Nozomu's movements had been a step more precise, a fraction more fluid—the undeniable advantage of a main dancer who practiced parkour.

As they all grabbed towels and water bottles, Jaemin turned to their leader. "So, Joonie, any progress on the lyrics for the comeback?"

Hajoon grunted, wiping sweat from his brow. "Still writing and refining. When it's ready, I'll give it to you, hyung. I want your thoughts on the music composition." He glanced around at the others, outlining his plan. "Since I'm thinking of a more narrative-based song, Seokie can use his acting experience to help build the story and emotion behind the lyrics."

He then turned to his main dancer. "And Nozomu-hyung—"

"No worries!" Nozomu chirped, already stretching his cool-down. "Once it's ready, I'll design choreography that fits whatever story you write, Joonie-chan!"

Beom Seok puffed out his chest, his exhaustion from practice momentarily forgotten. "Don't worry, hyung! Leave the narrative feeling to me!"

A faint, tired smile touched Hajoon's lips. "Great... now we can rest before heading into vocal and rap sessions."

They cleaned themselves up after the grueling practice and began switching into their regular clothes.

The moment Beom Seok stepped out of the shower, a wad of fabric hit him square in the face. He yelped in surprise, peeling the soft, light blue material away from his eyes. It was his powder-blue dress shirt, perfectly folded.

Minho leaned against the lockers, a smirk on his face. "Here's your usual outfit, Seokie."

"You didn't need to throw it at my face, hyung!" Beom Seok complained, already smoothing out the imagined wrinkles.

Minho's smirk widened. "Well, your yelp is funny, Seokie. So it can't be helped."

Beom Seok looked around the room, taking in the others' outfits like a curator surveying a gallery. Kangmin, as usual, was in head-to-toe soft pink. Nozomu was a walking masterpiece of mismatched colors that somehow worked. Jaemin looked polished in a simple polo shirt. Hajoon wore a plaid button-down left open over a black T-shirt.

His eyes finally landed back on Minho, who was wearing a black collared shirt. Beom Seok's face lit up. "Hyung! You're wearing a collared sh—"

Minho waved a dismissive hand, cutting him off. "This is just the closest thing I could grab without looking."

Beom Seok's hopeful expression deflated. "Right... you're kinda lazy in dressing. Always just grabbing anything close."

"Precisely," Minho agreed, utterly unbothered.

Beom Seok mumbled under his breath as he buttoned his own shirt, "At least it's not my Appa-level lazy..."

Minho raised an eyebrow. "Did you say something?"

"Nothing!" Beom Seok chirped, his voice a little too high. "Just thinking about how lazy you are."

Minho just shrugged—lazily, of course—and headed out.

They headed into their vocal and rap session, training like usual until the sun began to set.

Ah, a whole day of training is exhausting, Beom Seok thought, rolling his stiff shoulders. He really wanted to visit the ramyeon shop tonight to see Jin-ah and grow closer as friends. But did he have the stamina? ...Nah. If it were my younger self, maybe. But this 25-year-old me isn't that weak. Besides, in a few days, he'd be busy filming "At Our Seventeen" again. If he wanted to see her, it had to be at night. He had to make the time.

Kangmin, noticing his distracted stare, raised a brow. "You're going to that ramyeon shop tonight?"

"Of course, hyung," Beom Seok said, a determined glint in his eye. "This is my friend from outside of all... this." He gestured vaguely at the practice room, the company building, their entire world.

Kangmin paused. Then, despite their significant height difference—him at 178cm and Beom Seok at a towering 190cm—he reached up and patted his maknae's head. It was an awkward but sincere gesture.

"Then... I hope you become good friends with her."

Beom Seok's eyes widened. The simple, genuine well-wishing from the hyung who had once been so frustrated with him... it hit him right in the heart. "Hyung...."

Before Kangmin could react, Beom Seok engulfed him in a massive, bone-crushing hug.

"Wha?! Let go of me!" Kangmin squawked, his voice muffled by Beom Seok's shirt.

"No!" Beom Seok held on tighter, his heart full. Hearing you cheer me on for this... I'm really thankful for what you did for me that day, hyung.

Just then, the others finished their sessions and walked in to see Kangmin squirming in Beom Seok's embrace.

Nozomu's face lit up. "Oh! Group hug!"

Kangmin's eyes went wide with panic. "Wait, hyung, don't!!"

But Nozomu was already moving, wrapping his arms around both of them with delighted laughter.

Hajoon paused in the doorway, all 196cm of him looking down at the spectacle. "Does anyone know the reason for this hugging?"

Minho shrugged from beside him. "Nope."

Jaemin smiled warmly, stepping forward to join the pile. "Anyway, I'm going to join. It's our team. Whatever reason Beom Seok has for hugging Kangmin like that, we should celebrate it."

Kangmin's voice rose in desperation as Jaemin's arms wrapped around them. "Wait, hyung, don't!!"

Hajoon stared at Minho, who stared back with a growing smirk. "Well, how about we join too, leader? For the sake of solidarity?"

"I don't think Kangmin will appreciate—wait, hyung, why are you walking behind me—" Hajoon's protest cut off with an "oof!" as Minho's knee connected with the back of his legs, making the tall leader wobble.

In one swift motion, Minho grabbed Hajoon around the neck in a headlock, using his leverage to steer the much taller man toward the group. "Come on, leader. We're doing this group hug."

"Let go of me!" Hajoon protested, but found himself inexorably dragged into the chaotic pile by his shorter but determined hyung.

"YOU GUYS ARE SUFFOCATING ME!" Kangmin's desperate cry was muffled by the tangle of bodies of affectionate idols.

The group hug dissolved into a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter. Kangmin finally emerged, his silver hair now comically disheveled, his glasses askew. He fixed them with a sharp, practiced motion.

"I hate all of you," he groaned.

"No, you don't," Nozomu chirped. "You love us! It was a bonding moment!"

"Yeah," Kangmin muttered, straightening his pink hoodie with a huff.

Minho added, "Your squawking was the best part, Kangmin-ah. Very dignified."

Before Kangmin could retort, Jaemin clapped his hands together. "Alright, enough torturing our maknae-line. Everyone, hydrate. We still have vocal sessions to get through."

The members dispersed, the playful energy settling back into the comfortable, focused atmosphere of a team that had worked together for over a decade. Beom Seok watched them go, his heart feeling impossibly full. This was his second family. This was his foundation.

Later, after vocal training had left his throat pleasantly tired and the sun had fully set, Beom Seok stood before his closet. His fingers brushed past the row of blazers and vests, lingering for a moment on the light blue one Minho had thrown at him. With a sigh of resignation, he reached for the dreaded gray hoodie instead.

As he pulled it on, hiding his crisp dress shirt, he caught Kangmin's reflection in the mirror behind him. His hyung was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching him.

"Remember," Kangmin said, his tone casual. "Hoodie zipped. Glasses on. Head down. No winking."

"I know, hyung," Beom Seok said, adjusting the nerdy glasses on his nose. "Nozomu-hyung trained me well."

"Aish, that training," Kangmin grunted "I still remember you whining about the fanlight bonks when done training"

"They hurt!" Beom Seok protested, though he was smiling now too. "My precious head!"

"Your precious head needed it," Kangmin retorted. He pushed off the doorframe and walked over, reaching up to deliberately mess up Beom Seok's freshly styled hair, making it perfect for his "sickly college student" disguise. "There. Now you look sufficiently not you…..and good work in that training"

"Thanks, hyung," Beom Seok said his eyes were warm.

Kangmin gave a short, sharp nod. "Just be back before curfew. And don't do anything stupid."

With that final, characteristically gruff well-wishing, Kangmin turned and left the room.

Alone now, Beom Seok took a deep breath. He looked at his reflection—the anonymous, unremarkable person in the hoodie. Then he squared his shoulders, a familiar, confident glint returning to his eyes even behind the disguise.

"Time to go," he whispered to his reflection.

He slipped out of the dorm, a man on a mission, leaving the warmth and noise of his family behind for the quiet promise of a different kind of connection.