.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
As we walked back toward the green room, the familiar buzz of chatter and laughter grew louder. Jin held the door open for me like a true gentleman, and I stepped in to find chaos already in full swing.
Taehyung was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by empty snack wrappers, trying to stack banana milk cartons into a leaning tower. Jimin was lying on the couch with a bag of chips on his chest, half-asleep, while Yoongi was in the corner with his hoodie pulled over his head, earbuds in and pretending the world didn’t exist.
“Ah! Y/N!” Taehyung beamed when he saw me. “Perfect timing. I need someone to witness my architectural genius.”
“That’s what we’re calling it now?” Jungkook snorted, walking by with a sandwich in hand, before plopping down beside Jimin and promptly stealing a chip.
I walked over and squatted next to Taehyung, staring at the tower of banana milk cartons that was… barely standing.
“This looks like something my sleep paralysis demon would build,” I said with a straight face.
Jungkook choked on his sandwich.
Taehyung pouted. “Yah! It’s abstract! Like the Eiffel Tower.”
“That tower looks like it’s been through three divorces and a mental breakdown,” I deadpanned.
From the corner, Yoongi didn’t even open his eyes. “That tower’s one sigh away from collapsing. Just like my will to live.”
Everyone snorted.
“Hyung!” Taehyung whined. “You don’t see the vision!”
“I see it,” Yoongi replied, finally pulling one earbud out. “It’s screaming for help.”
“I hate all of you,” Taehyung muttered, carefully adjusting one of the cartons. It immediately tipped sideways, and the whole structure leaned even more dangerously.
“Oh my god,” I whispered. “It’s literally defying physics out of spite.”
“Let’s name it,” Jimin mumbled, eyes still closed. “I vote Le Sad Tower.”
“I vote Please No Touch,” I added.
“Monument of Taehyung's Delusion,” Yoongi said, going back to his music.
Taehyung sighed dramatically and flopped backward onto the floor. “You people have no taste.”
The room burst into soft giggles as everyone grinned at Taehyung’s dramatic reaction.
Hoseok looked up from the table, eyes warm as they met mine. “You good?” he mouthed.
I gave him a tiny nod.
Namjoon glanced over his glasses from the other side of the room, a book in his hand. “Snack truce in effect for the next fifteen minutes. After that, it’s a free-for-all.”
Jin clapped his hands dramatically. “You heard the man. This is your only peaceful chance to claim the good stuff!”
I laughed as I dove for a bag of my favorite chips, narrowly beating Jungkook’s hand. “Mine.”
He stared at me, mock offended. “You’ve changed.”
I grinned. “Survival of the fittest, Jeon.”
The room filled with playful groans, exaggerated gasps, and a mini food battle between the hyungs. For a moment, everything else—the bracelet, the envelope, the what-ifs—they all faded into the background. Just for now, it was me and them.
YOU ARE READING
Wrong number? || BTS
FanfictionIt is just a wrong number? Or it was a plan? Could this bring a nice day for Y/N? . . . Can't we at least be friend? - Jungkook . . . That's not right... - Y/N . . . You should learn to love yourself - Yoongi . . . I don't hate your music, I love y...
