Wrong number? || BTS

51. Familiar Kindness

The fitting room was chaos.

Jackets flying. Hangers clanking. Jimin dramatically spinning in a glittery top. Namjoon trying not to rip his sleeves. Taehyung holding two completely opposite outfits in front of the mirror like he was about to choose a Pokémon starter.

And in the middle of it all, Y/N sat cross-legged on the couch, chewing on a breadstick she’d smuggled from lunch, watching the mayhem like it was a reality show she never signed up for.

“Y/N, catch!” Hoseok tossed her a belt, and she clumsily caught it with a yelp.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“You’re our temporary stylist-slash-cheerleader,” Hoseok grinned, already dancing his way to the next outfit.

Jungkook strutted past like he was walking a Paris runway, dressed in a sleek black outfit with his jacket hanging just loose enough to reveal a scandalously see-through mesh top underneath.

“Look at this,” he declared, spinning dramatically. “I was born for the stage. I am the moment.”

Y/N didn’t even look up. “You were born for the drama.”

He gasped, clutching his chest like she’d stabbed him. “That was savage. But also… true.”

She smirked. “You look like a thirst trap that escaped a boy band.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he shot back proudly—though the twitch in his smile said he wished it came with less eye-roll and more heart-eyes.

Behind them, Taehyung cackled. “You mean thirst trap meets fishnet disaster?”

Jimin chimed in while fixing his earrings. “It’s giving edgy boy who vapes behind the school gym.”

Yoongi didn’t even look up from his phone. “It’s giving laundry net.”

Jungkook turned around, arms out. “Yah! Why am I getting roasted for serving looks?”

Hoseok strolled by with a hairbrush like a mic. “Because you are serving… but the dish is just a bit spicy for morning hours.”

Everyone burst out laughing while Jungkook stood in the middle of the chaos, arms raised, shouting, “You’ll all regret this when I break the internet later!”

Y/N patted his shoulder with mock sympathy. “You already broke something, Jungkook. Just not sure it was the internet.”

Then, from across the room, Jin poked his head out from behind a curtain, his bedhead still defying gravity. “By the way, am I the only one who thinks it’s a little sus that Y/N’s getting VIP treatment lately?”

“Oh my God, yes,” Jimin gasped dramatically, flopping down beside her like a gossiping auntie with popcorn. “First that bracelet — designer, thank you very much — and now the bento box? That thing looked like it was handcrafted by angels in a Michelin-star kitchen.”

“Wait, what?” Y/N blinked. “I thought it was from catering…”

Namjoon tilted his head, arms folded, eyes narrowing slightly. “It had your name handwritten on the ribbon. No one else got one.”

“And what about that note inside?” he added. “‘Hope this gives you the strength to get through the day. You used to light up after this meal.’ Sound familiar?”

Y/N paused, the room noise suddenly fading around her. That note... it had caught her off guard earlier too — oddly personal, warm, like something from someone who knew her well. Too well.

Her eyes flickered downward, lips parting slightly. “I… thought one of you asked for it. I didn’t really think much of the message.”

Taehyung shook his head, raising both brows. “Nope. Not from us. If I left a note, it would’ve said something like ‘eat this or I’ll cry.’”