Mingi swears he’ll only stay at your apartment for a few days. The water damage at the dorm will be fixed fast. A week at most. Then somehow there’s a toothbrush next to yours, hoodies hanging over your chairs, and Mingi half-asleep in your kitchen at two in the morning asking if you want ramen while music plays softly from his phone. Living with him is dangerously easy. You learn the little things quickly: the way he mumbles when tired, how he fills silence just to make you smile, how naturally he fits into your life like he was always supposed to be there. And somewhere between shared grocery runs and falling asleep together on the couch, the line between “temporary roommate” and “something much more” quietly disappears.