Naye

The dining room looked different with people in it. Larger, somehow. Louder, even in silence.

Naye stood in the kitchen archway for a second longer than she meant to, her hands resting lightly on her apron as she took them in.

They were clean now, freshly showered, hair still damp and faces softened by warmth. The plain sweatpants and shirts she had left them fit surprisingly well, sleeves rolled and pant legs slightly long here and there. Her father's clothes. Her Appa's.

She felt the pinch in her chest again.

Her eyes glossed over before she could stop them. The sudden wetness fogging her vision but she blinked quickly, rapidly flutter her lashes, before anyone could notice. Her breath caught once and that was all.

The table was fully set with eight seats pulled close. One at the end where she always sat, seven more tucked in around it. It looked like something out of a memory. Something she hadn't seen since..

Don't go there.

"Go ahead and sit," she said quietly, waving her hand toward the table as she turned toward the fridge. "It's warmer near the heater vent."

They moved slowly. She could hear the soft slide of chairs, the cautious sound of shuffling fabric. None of them said anything, but she could feel their eyes on her curious, wide, glued to her like they hadn't expected her to speak.

Or maybe they hadn't expected her to exist.

Not like this.

She made a face to herself, shaking off the tension like dust off her shoulders.

If they don't like strawberries, they can sleep outside with the goats, she thought flatly, reaching into the fridge.

Her hand wrapped around the chilled glass jug of iced tea condensation wetting her palm as she pulled it out. She cradled it to her chest and turned toward the table, her dryer warm slippers whispering against the wood floor.

They were all sitting now.

Seven men. Strange men. All of them looking like they didn't belong anywhere near a cow or a chicken in their life, much less her kitchen.

But they were quiet. Respectful. Their heads slightly bowed, hands resting neatly in their laps or clasped in front of them. Not a single one had touched the food.

She didn't speak at first just walked up and began to pour.

One glass at a time. Iced sweet tea homemade earlier that morning with lemon slices and honey. She poured carefully, silently, the sound of the liquid hitting the glasses soft as rain against glass.

It was a little awkward, but she didn't mind that too much. "I hope sweet tea is alright," she murmured as she worked.

They all mumbled thanks. Almost in unison. One of them..the tannest one with sharp bone structure even bowed his head slightly, like a child at church.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

The jug was nearly empty when she finally sat down in her usual seat at the head of the table, tucking her legs in and smoothing her apron over her lap. The wood was cool beneath her fingers, and the overhead light was warm, casting everything in soft amber.

She glanced up and saw them all still sitting there.

Staring. None of them had touched a single dish almost as if they were awaiting approval first. Just wide eyed, blinking, like she'd set down gold instead of potatoes and broth.

She froze for a moment at all the attention, voice slightly curious, "What?"

They didn't answer.

She swore the tip of her nose betrayed her first. It always did. Warmth bloomed right up into her face, cheeks glowing pink, and she ducked her head, flustered, grabbing her chopsticks a little too quickly.

"Please eat," she said again, and this time her voice was firmer, more awkward. "Seriously."

She picked up a piece of roasted zucchini and took a bite just to set the example, chewing quickly before adding, "It's not poisoned. You're allowed to eat."

Still no one moved.

They looked a little stunned.

Okay, rude, she thought, stabbing a potato and putting it on her plate.

But then she caught a glimpse of one of their expressions, just out of the corner of her eye and it wasn't rudeness at all.

It was awe.

One of them was blinking fast like he couldn't believe the smell. Another looked down at the food with a kind of wonder she hadn't seen since she was seven and her father brought her hotteok on a snow day. Another still, the pale one, he just sat there shoulders tense like this was a dream he didn't want to ruin.

Her fingers twitched, the chopsticks pausing above her plate. This felt like a memory she didn't own. She swallowed and glanced down at her plate again.

"Really," she said one last time, quieter now. "Dig in."

And slowly, finally seven sets of hands reached for their utensils, the room warming in more ways than one.

Jake

She blushed.

He saw it, the faint pink blooming across her cheeks, the tip of her nose tinting in the soft light like a cherry blossom pressed to porcelain.

Jake didn't even pretend not to notice.

And judging by the way the room felt like it inhaled all at once the quiet hitch in breath, the tiny pauses, he knew the others had noticed too. He didn't even have to look at them to know. They were all in sync like that. All seven of them shared the same brain cell sometimes, and apparently, right now, that brain cell was gasping.

But the girl?

She had no idea.

She was in her own little world poking at her soup quiet as could be. Like she wasn't sitting at the head of a table full of men who hadn't seen a woman that naturally stunning in, God, maybe ever.

Jake wasn't even sure she was real yet.

He's not convinced.

Maybe the storm had hit him harder than he thought. Maybe this was what dying felt like. Washed up in a strange house, fed by a woodland fairy with bunny slippers and a soft voice. Fed a hot meal before the gods determined if they would go to hell or heaven.

Because nothing made sense.

Not the way her long black hair shone like ink, not the way her features seemed hand painted soft and sharp all at once. Not the way her hands moved like she'd done this a hundred times, like feeding a group of seven half drowned strangers was just something she did every Tuesday.

He wasn't convinced yet.

And so, Jake decided to test reality.

The food was already blowing his mind. A warm Korean soup with banchan that tasted better than half the restaurants he'd been to. Sorry Jay, he still loved him, but if he had to eat one more grilled thing off a hot plate this week, he might have cried. He'd kiss his boyfriend later to make up for it.

But for now?

He was going to talk to her. Because someone had to.

She'd clothed them. Fed them. Rescued them, for crying out loud. They couldn't just sit here pretending this was normal. She didn't deserve that silence.

So, after a few more polite bites of soup, he cleared his throat softly and spoke the words that had been dancing on the edge of his tongue since the moment he walked into this house.

"What's your name?"

The question landed gently, like a pebble in water.

She looked up, swallowing the food in her mouth making her cheeks found cutely before she swallowed. Her light brown eyes blinked a few times. There was a flicker of surprise, then something softer behind it. She set her spoon down delicately on the side of the bowl, sitting up a little straighter.

"Naye," she said simply. "Cho Naye."

Cho Naye.

Jake smiled. Just a little. A soft curve of his lips as he rolled the name over in his mind. It was fitting. Artistic. Bright. Graceful.

He remembered reading once that names carried energy. Meaning. A kind of quiet weight.

Naye.

Of course that was her name.

It sounded like wind through tall grass. Like the type of name that wore wildflowers in her hair and sang to baby goats. Like someone who didn't just live in the countryside, she belonged to it.

He glanced at her again.

The strawberry apron. The soft bright green socks. The high ponytail with a bandana knotted at the base like a bow.

What the hell was this girl?

Some kind of fairytale?

Fairy princess, he thought with a dazed sort of certainty. That's it. That's what she is.

And the worst part?

He wasn't even trying to be dramatic.

She was so effortlessly beautiful, no makeup, no performance, no filters just her. Skin kissed by the sun lashes brushing high cheekbones. Lips that looked like they knew both silence and poetry.

Jake had met hundreds of girls in his life. Gorgeous girls. Girls in fashion, music, dance, theater. Girls who knew how to turn heads.

But Naye didn't try to turn heads.

She didn't even seem to realize she could.

And somehow, that made her even more magnetic.

He took another sip of tea to distract himself. It didn't help. His brain was spiraling like a carousel.

The others hadn't spoken yet, but he could feel them looking. Especially Sunghoon, who sat across the table with that unreadable face of his, spoon in hand, eyes flicking between Naye and his soup like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

Jake was probably worse.

He smiled again, more to himself this time, and offered a warm, "Nice to meet you, Naye."

She looked up at him.

The eye contact was brief. Soft. Then she nodded. "You too," she said. Jake's heart thudded stupidly in his chest. Like it had never heard words before.

His boyfriends were going to roast him if they knew what he was thinking right now. They were probably already roasting him telepathically.

But even that couldn't snap him out of it.

Because Naye, she was very quiet, very beautiful, and very mysterious. She wasn't just a girl who saved them from a storm.

No.

She was something else entirely. And for the first time in a long time, Jake didn't want to run from it.

He wanted to know it. Know her.

Whatever that meant.

There was something weirdly magical about the way this house smelled like ginger and garlic like wood smoke and something sweet. Like warmth had a scent. Jake couldn't stop breathing it in.

The food was half finished now, the quiet clinking of chopsticks and the soft hum of the heater filling the silence. He could hear the tick of the old wall clock in the corner, slow and even. The kind of sound you didn't get in city apartments with humming lights and constant traffic.

Everything here moved slower.

Even her. And it was so odd, to not hear six other voices chiming in every few seconds. Quite has never been potent with the men before.

Naye hadn't said much after that first introduction. Her name still echoed in his chest like a bell soft and musical. Cho Naye. She hadn't asked for theirs in return. Hadn't pried. She just kept pouring tea, checking the temperature of the soup, and occasionally meeting their eyes for a heartbeat before ducking her head again.

She hadn't freaked out.

Not once.

No wide eyed gasps. No stammered "Aren't you-?!" No phones pulled out. No shrieking. No demand for autographs or photos. No recognition at all, really.

Just...a woman. Treating them like seven very tired, very wet strangers who needed soup and dry clothes. Jake couldn't remember the last time he'd been around someone who didn't know who he was.

Or at least...who the world said he was. And part of him wanted to protect that illusion for just a little longer. But another part that was stronger, even braver wanted to give her something. Anything. Even if it was just a name.

So after a small silence between bites, he lifted his gaze and said quietly, "Jake."

Her head tilted slightly. Light brown eyes met his. He swore the corner of her lips lifted. Barely there. Like a secret.

"I'm twenty four," he added, tapping the side of his bowl gently with his chopsticks. "No last names."

She nodded. And her eyes they softened. Like she'd been waiting. Like she'd known his name already somehow. Like Jake meant more than it should have.

And suddenly, this small kitchen felt too warm.

Too close.

Too safe.

He coughed lightly and glanced down, pretending to check the state of his banchan. But his heart was full on sprinting.

A second later, Jay cleared his throat beside him and leaned back in his chair with that easy coolness he always carried.

"Jay," he said, voice low and smooth. "Also twenty four."

Naye gave a small nod. One that said she didn't ask, but also that she didn't mind the bare information.

Sunoo piped up from the other side of the table with a cute wave. "Sunoo. Twenty three."

She gave a slightly deeper nod that time. Still no words. Still that quiet calm, like she was memorizing them.

"Jungwon," came the younger leader's voice next. "I'm twenty three too."

Jake could see her hands move slightly thumb grazing the rim of her glass. He didn't miss it.

Then, from across the table, the youngest finally chimed in, his voice a little lower. "Riki. Twenty two."

Jake smirked. Baby.

The next introductions followed easily. "Sunghoon," came the softest voice, low and gentle. "I'm twenty four." And finally, "Heeseung. Twenty five."

With the names out in the open, the air felt lighter. Like some invisible wall had cracked. Just slightly.

They were still strangers. But strangers with names now. With ages. With voices that reached out across the quiet.

Jake set his chopsticks down for a moment and leaned his elbow on the table, chin in hand as he looked at Naye again. He couldn't help it, he felt captivated by her.

"By the way," he added with a sly grin, "we totally lost the bet."

She raised an arched brow at him. "What bet?"

He chuckled when he felt a kick under the table from one of the guys. Definitely Sunghoon who was silently telling him to shut up. But this is Jake, so he said, "About you."

Her brows lifted ever so slightly. Not offended. Just curious.

"We, uh...kind of made some guesses earlier. About who might live in that big ranch house up the hill." He paused, grinning wider now. "Someone said you were in your thirties with cats."

That got a reaction, a snort, just barely contained, and the tiniest spark of amusement in her eyes.

Jake tilted his head playfully. "You're twenty something, right?"

She nodded slowly. "Mhm. Twenty three."

"Riki's the baby, then." He reached over and slapped the youngest's arm with a smug look. "Told you we were all wrong."

Riki rolled his eyes. "I said she couldn't be older than twenty six." Sunoo chimed in, teasing, "You said she was a cat lady."

"With glasses," Jungwon added with a grin.

"I like cats," Naye said suddenly, sipping her tea. "But I don't have any."

They all froze a little at her voice. It was the first thing she'd said voluntarily since introductions.

Jake's heart fluttered traitorously again.

She liked cats.

Of course she did.

He could already picture it. Her in this cozy house with some fluffy orange cat curled in her lap, sipping tea by the window as a storm rolled in.

But more than that, she'd spoken.

To them.

And it felt like the start of something. He didn't know what yet.

But damn...if heaven looked like this, rain on windows, warm food, quiet laughter, and a girl in a strawberry apron.

Then maybe it wasn't so bad being stuck in a storm after all.

══════════════════

Naye

The clatter of chopsticks faded first. Then the subtle scrape of bowls being pushed forward. A quiet exhale. A sip of tea. The soft sound of someone leaning back in their chair as the wooden legs creaked.

Naye looked up from her half finished glass and blinked.

All seven of them had cleared their plates. Completely. Not a single grain of rice left, not one sliver of banchan untouched.

And that...that did something strange to her chest. A tiny, quiet warmth sparked in her ribs like someone had lit a candle behind her sternum. She didn't smile she didn't do that easily but something inside her smiled.

They liked the food.

They really liked it.

She stood up silently, collecting the closest empty bowls without thinking, tucking them carefully against her chest. It wasn't until she reached for the third plate that a voice stopped her.

"I got it."

She paused.

Jay..she was pretty sure it was Jay, was already pushing his chair back and standing hand reaching for the bowls she'd yet to grab.

"I can handle it," she said softly.

But he was already stacking the dishes. Then another chair scraped back. And another.

"I can wash mine," said Sunoo with a closed lip smile that someone still managed to look light and happy.

"Me too," said Jungwon as he quickly stood almost knocking over a glass before his hand shot out and smoothly grabbed it before it spilled.

"Same," came Heeseung's voice low, almost sheepish, but firm.

By the time she looked up, they were all on their feet bowls and cups in hand lined up awkwardly behind her like a parade of ducklings in oversized borrowed sweats.

She shook her head softly. "I...really don't mind," she murmured.

"You cooked," Jay said simply. "We can clean."

It was awkward. Kind of clumsy. A little too eager, maybe. But they weren't being performative about it. There was no over the top chivalry, no teasing or dramatic declarations. Just quiet, insistent action.

And maybe it was the storm still echoing in her bones, or the fact that these were the first voices in her house besides the wind and the chickens in what felt like forever, but she let them.

Without a word, she turned and led them to the wide silver and black marble farmhouse sink at the end of the kitchen, setting down the bowls already in her arms. They followed behind her obediently, one by one, until they were all shoulder to shoulder at the counter.

Jay took the empty serving platters from her arms and silently ran hot water into the largest pot smoothly rolling up his sleeves.

Behind them, the others fell into an almost natural rhythm. Riki quietly sweeping the crumbs around the table into a tidy pile, Jungwon spraying the wooden chairs with a soft cleaner and wiping them down with practiced care. Sunghoon stood at the other end of the kitchen, drying the clean dishes with a rag, his head slightly tilted focused. Even Heeseung was kneeling near the table's edge, checking for anything that might've fallen beneath it.

It was strange.

It was quiet.

But it wasn't tense.

Naye leaned against the far counter, her arms folded loosely across her chest. Her eyes flicked between them as they moved no longer chaotic strangers huddled in the dark but people.

Helpful ones. Polite ones. A little awkward yes, but gentle in their own ways.

Jay caught her gaze as he passed her a rinsed platter, his hands dripping water, the sleeves of his borrowed shirt slightly damp. "Where should these go?"

She reached for a towel and took it without a word, drying it carefully before pointing to the upper cabinet.

They worked like that for several minutes. Simple coordination. No loud conversation. Just the occasional clatter of dishware, a few exchanged glances, the soft patter of socks on hardwood. There was something comforting about it. About not having to talk.

They didn't fill the silence with nonsense. Didn't ask questions she didn't want to answer. Didn't try to force her out of her stillness.

They just helped.

And that was...oddly endearing.

She'd never had a full house like this before. Not since her mom left for the hospital. Not since her father's laughter stopped echoing off these walls. Not since her uncle started getting swarmed at the shop. But suddenly there were footsteps again. Soft voices. The smell of soap and lemon wood polish. The clink of bowls being stacked neatly.

She caught her own reflection in the kitchen window dimly lit by the lantern above the sink and she could see the faintest curve of her mouth, subtle but unmistakable.

Cute, she admitted silently. They're kind of cute.

She would never say it out loud. God, no.

But the thought made her eyes soften.

When the last plate was put away, when the floor was clear, and the air smelled of citrus and broth instead of wet clothes and tension, Naye folded the drying towel carefully over the sink and turned around.

Seven men stood silently, scattered across the kitchen.

Waiting.

She cleared her throat.

"...Thank you," she said softly.

A pause.

Then Jake gave her a small grin, Riki offered a proud thumbs up, and Jay still standing closest just gave a short, respectful bow.

Naye felt something in her chest beat a little louder than before.

Maybe letting them stay wasn't going to be the nightmare she expected.

At least...not yet.

Sunghoon

The wood creaked softly beneath their feet as they followed her back upstairs, the quiet rhythm of steps muffled by damp socks and a lingering sense of disbelief.

Sunghoon kept his hands in his pockets, head slightly bowed, his eyes flicking from the smooth polished railing to the back of the girl in front of them. The pale light of the hallway stretched across her shoulders like a shawl, the hem of her strawberry apron swaying just above her knees, her ponytail still damp from a fresh shower.

She paused at the top of the stairs. Everyone stopped behind her, like waiting for the bell to ring. She turned, one hand lifting to gesture down the hallway.

"Theres five doors across from the stairs," she began, her voice soft but sure, "the one you were in before is the second from the left."

They all looked.

Five doors. Identical from the outside, warm brown wood and black iron knobs. A hallway that somehow still smelled faintly of cedar and wildflowers.

"The middle door is the bathroom. It's bigger than the one in the guest room. If you need to shower or just want to use it, go ahead."

Sunghoon nodded along with the others.

"The room to the right of it," she pointed again, "is a closet. Extra pillows, blankets, towels, stuff like that. Use whatever you need."

Then she shifted slightly on her heel and pointed toward the two doors on either end.

"Those are bedrooms. One has a queen sized bed. The other has bunks. They're both clean and comfortable. You guys can split into those however you want."

The group murmured quiet words of thanks behind him. Sunghoon watched her mouth how her lips barely curved when she spoke. It wasn't cold. It was...practiced. Gentle detachment. Someone who carried kindness like muscle memory but didn't let it bloom too close.

There was a time when that was exactly how he was. Back in his skating days. It was always cold then for him...he wondered if she was cold?

Then her hand moved to the left side of the hall closer to the stairs, right next to the railing where they'd just come up.

"That one's my room," she said.

They all turned to look.

"Feel free to knock if you need something. But don't bother me after midnight. I won't answer."

Jake quietly choked on a breath behind him, probably a grin trying not to be born and Sunghoon swallowed a small smile himself. She was deadpan serious. It was almost charming.

"And this one's off limits." Her voice dropped just slightly.

She nodded to the final door tucked near hers, on the right hand side of the stairs. The doorknob was darker than the others, like it had once been used every day but hadn't been touched in a while.

She didn't offer an explanation.

But she didn't have to he could see the yearning look in her eyes. A little glazed like she was feeling too many emotions at once and had no idea what to do with them.

Sunghoon had already pieced it together. She'd mentioned earlier that the clothes belonged to her father. Her voice had gone distant then, almost like she was speaking from the bottom of a well. Now this room sat untouched, silent, sealed off from the rest of the house.

A shrine, maybe. A wound.

He didn't ask. He wouldn't.

But he filed the thought away along with the way her voice had softened at the mention of clothes, the tight pinch of her eyes when she set the tote bags down in their arms.

Where were her parents now?

His heart pulled tight.

She stepped back slightly, her eyes scanning the group in a soft sweep. "That's everything. Try to get some sleep," she said. "Storm's still got a bit of life left in it, but it's safe here."

Safe.

He believed her.

The way her house smelled like spices and rain. The way her porch light had cut through the dark like a lighthouse. The way her voice had told them to run when their world was crashing down. The way she didn't ask questions, didn't flinch, didn't treat them like burdens or strangers.

Yeah.

She might not be a fairy or an angel like Jake insisted with stars in his damn eyes. But Sunghoon thought she was something else entirely.

A good person.

One of the rare ones.

"Good night," she added with no expectations. Just blindly trusting strangers in her home. Good thing they were good people too.

And with that, she turned and padded back down the stairs, her footsteps fading like petals being carried off by the wind.

No fanfare.

No drama.

Just quiet, ordinary kindness.

He stood there for a moment longer than the others, watching the space she'd disappeared into.

Then he let out a long breath through his nose and said softly to no one in particular, "She's...nicer than most strangers I've met."

There were murmurs of agreement behind him.

And somehow, even though the storm hadn't fully passed, something in his chest already felt a little lighter.

The storm had begun to quiet after a few hours, though the wind still whispered around the eaves like a lullaby too restless to sleep. Rain pattered against the windows in a gentler rhythm now, no longer threatening but steady like fingers tapping a familiar tune on an old tabletop.

Inside the guest room, the seven of them were curled into a quiet sprawl of limbs and warmth.

Jake had claimed the bed first, not out of selfishness but instinct. Jungwon was in his arms, back pressed to Jake's chest, long legs tucked up as Jake curled protectively around him. One hand rested lightly on Jungwon's stomach, the other loosely intertwined with his.

On the floor below, Heeseung's head was resting in Sunoo's lap, the older boy's damp hair brushed away from his forehead by soft, absent fingers. Sunoo sat cross legged against the edge of the bed, posture relaxed but alert, always quietly observing even in silence. He hummed under his breath sometimes, low and content.

Jay had flopped sideways across the floor, his head pillowed on Ni-ki's stomach like a cat lounging in sunbeams. The younger one didn't complain. He lay stretched out like a starfish, arms over his head, fingers tapping occasionally on the hardwood as if keeping beat with the rain.

Sunghoon had claimed the rocking chair in the corner, knees pulled up to his chest with his chin resting on them. His eyes scanned the group slowly, lips quirked in the smallest fondest smile. He rocked slightly, more for comfort than rhythm.

The room was quiet, warm from the space heater humming in the corner and dim from the lamp they'd left on. The kind of golden yellow light that softened sharp thoughts and made the shadows less lonely.

"She's really pretty, huh?" Jake said softly, almost like a confession.

No one responded at first. Then Jungwon snorted gently, elbowing him in the ribs. "You're just now admitting that?"

"Hey," Jake grinned, pressing his nose into the back of Jungwon's neck, "I'm just saying what we're all thinking."

Sunoo huffed through his nose, fingers still combing through Heeseung's hair. "She's beautiful. But it's more than that."

"Yeah," Jay agreed from the floor, voice muffled. "It's the way she moves. Talks. Like she's got this quiet steel about her."

"Like she doesn't need anyone but still helps us anyway," Sunghoon added, eyes on the dark window. "I like that."

"She made us food," Ni-ki mumbled. "Good food."

That got a round of tired chuckles. All it took was some food to make their maknae happy.

Heeseung with his eyes still closed, muttered, "She could be a Michelin chef and she wouldn't even know it. Did you try that kimchi? I almost proposed."

"I saw you tear up," Jake teased making Heeseung toss a pillow up at his head.

"That was the spice," Heeseung defended flatly.

"No, that was you crying over her seaweed side dish," Sunoo teased, pinching his cheek. "Don't lie."

"I'll do it again," Heeseung deadpanned.

"She's soft," Ni-ki murmured. "Even when she's not. Like...her words bite, but she doesn't mean them to hurt."

"She's sharp because she has to be," Sunghoon said thoughtfully. "But she doesn't push us away. Not really."

"Yeah," Jay murmured, one hand resting loosely on Ni-ki's ankle. "I felt safer in her kitchen than I have in months."

They all fell quiet for a moment.

Safe.

That word hadn't meant anything for a long time. Not with the pressures of cameras, fans, expectations, the ticking clock of time and relevance. But tonight huddled together in a stranger's storm wrapped home, their skin warm from her tea and their bellies full of her food, it meant everything.

Jake grinned suddenly, lifting his head. "We should steal her."

Jungwon turned, raising a brow. "Steal her?"

"Not like steal steal," Jake said, nudging his boyfriend. "I mean like...make her our manager."

Sunoo choked on a laugh. "She'd kill us within the week," he grinned.

"Exactly," Jake said. "She'd take no shit. Make sure we all ate. Probably slap a label rep if they were rude."

"She's got that look," Jay said lazily. "The one that says 'I'll burn your entire company down with a rice spatula.'"

Heeseung grinned, finally opening his eyes. "Bet she wouldn't even flinch."

They all laughed then tired, soft laughter, the kind that only comes after surviving something.

"She could run a whole agency on her own," Ni-ki mumbled. "Probably does this farm by herself."

Jungwon turned in Jake's arms slightly. "What do we do tomorrow?"

The question hung there.

Go back?

Try to find another town?

Find signal, book a hotel, call their team?

"I don't wanna leave," Sunoo said bluntly. Everyone looked at him. He shrugged, cheeks faintly pink. "Not yet. Were supposed to be free for a month, not three days then home because a storm scared us."

Jake squeezed Jungwon gently. "We don't have to decide tonight."

"Yeah," Heeseung agreed, voice warm. "Let's sleep on it. See what tomorrow looks like."

The room settled again.

Their bodies curled tighter into each other. Their shoulders leaned into softness. Their fingers found familiar warmth. They weren't just lovers, or boyfriends, or bandmates.

They were home to each other.

And somehow, tonight it felt like home had grown bigger.

══════════════════

Naye

The morning air still smelled like last night's storm of wet dirt, torn leaves, and ozone sharp thicken air that felt a little strange against the faint sweetness of strawberries on the breeze. Naye stood in the middle of the small house at the bottom of the hill with her light brown vintage rose printed boots planted in muddy debris, arms crossed over her chest, and jaw locked.

Her auburn colored flannel flapped lightly in the breeze sneaking in through the splintered windowpanes.

"Shit," she muttered as her eyes took in the damage.

What once had been a tidy little guest home was now splintered, half sunk in the soft earth from the wind slapped hill, waterlogged, the roof torn like a ripped page. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment. This had been a place she'd taken pride in. Her fallback. Her space. She'd cleaned it for hours just a week ago, freshened up the linens.

Now it looks like something tried to chew through it and gave up halfway.

She kicked a loose board with the toe of her boot, watching it skid across the soaked floor with a wet scrape. Her shoulders slumped just a little.

It was going to take weeks hell months, maybe. She'd need supplies, wood, time, and two extra sets of hands just to get the foundation back up. She could fix most things herself. She wasn't a stranger to long hours and busted knuckles.

But money was tight, too tight.

Until the strawberries finished blooming, until the eggs, honey, and preserves started selling again in the local markets, there wasn't much she could do except patch and pray.

Her brows pinched her lips tugging into a thin line. She pulled out her phone and tapped out a short message to her uncle, fingers stiff. She needed his advice. Maybe even his tools. Appa's old saw? Still in the shed? She added that in. She wasn't above borrowing family heirlooms if it meant keeping her farm running.

A soft ding signaled the message sent, and Naye blew out a breath that steamed faintly in the chill.

She turned and stepped outside the damaged building, pulling her flannel tighter around her waist. The storm had passed fully now the clouds peeling back to reveal patches of pale sky, low sunlight stretching lazy and warm across the damp field. It wouldn't stay this chilly for long.

Her boots squelched slightly as she walked up the path, small tufts of grass poking through the muddy patches. The chickens were already scratching curiously near the coop clucking in low annoyed tones like they were still offended she'd locked them in early the night before. The goats had immediately returned to their climbing platforms like nothing had happened, while the pigs snorted happily as they rooted in the soft earth.

And Grandpa their eldest horse was sauntering out of the barn like a man who had just woken from a long nap and knew no one was going to rush him. She rolled her eyes fondly.

"Alright, you wrinkly sack of bones," she called to him, patting his side as he passed. "Don't go slipping in the mud. I don't need to haul your big ass back to the barn again."

He snorted as if in offense and flicked his tail.

She laughed under her breath, her boots slipping slightly as she returned from unlatching the paddock gates. She wiped her hands on her jeans, glancing back at the house up the hill.

No sign of the boys yet. Not that she expected any.

They'd probably sleep in for a while she would've if she wasn't up before sunrise every day like a cursed rooster in human form. She hadn't even checked on them. Just slapped a neon orange sticky note on the guest room door and shoved their now clean clothes into the hallway bathroom.

Breakfast in the oven. Heat it up. Clothes in the hall bathroom. Don't make a mess.

Short. Simple. Efficient.

They're grown men, she told herself. They can handle themselves.

Still, she hadn't missed the way they'd looked at the storm damage last night. They were soft. Pretty boy soft. But they hadn't whined or panicked. They'd followed orders. Moved fast. Said thank you. Cleaned up after dinner like kindergarteners mimicking a field trip lesson.

And they hadn't asked for anything. Which in her experience was rare.

Her jaw tensed as she turned back toward the wreckage of the guest house. Yeah, it was done for. But what now?

She needed to talk to them.

They couldn't stay here forever and she couldn't exactly put them up in the barn loft like runaway kittens. And this town this dusty stretch of sky and pasture didn't even have a hotel. The only 'lodge' nearby was a converted one bedroom behind the gas station and the guy who ran it snored loud enough to be heard three streets down.

They need a plan, she thought. And I need to know what the hell theirs was.

How long had they planned to stay in town? Did they have another house they could rent out? A car nearby? A team somewhere looking for them?

Naye squinted toward the hills, her hair rustling slightly in the breeze. She didn't know why she cared. Maybe it was the way they all looked so...tired, even while laughing.

Or maybe it was her father's voice echoing in her head, clear as day.

"If someone knocks in the rain, you let them in. You don't ask what they've done. You ask if they've eaten."

Damn it, Appa. She brushed her hair from her face and sighed. "Looks like I've adopted seven strays," she muttered.

And with that, she turned back toward the main house. Pulling her phone out.

They'd talk.

But first, she needed another cup of tea.

Ni-ki

The house creaked with early morning stillness.

Ni-ki pushed open the screen door as gently as he could, the hinges letting out a long wheeze that cut through the quiet like a warning. He winced. Behind him, the others followed each dressed in freshly laundered clothes, their hair still soft from last night's showers, and their eyes clouded with that familiar weight of travel fatigue and aimlessness.

They hadn't seen Naye all morning.

She wasn't in the kitchen, though a covered tray of still warm breakfast had been sitting in the oven with a sticky note plastered to the counter like she'd posted a commandment.

Jake had grinned like it was a love letter.

Ni-ki just scarfed down his food quietly noting how no one dared ask for seconds even though the rice was perfect and the egg rolled banchan tasted like something his grandmother once made when he was little. She didn't even know them and yet, he glanced down at his now clean hoodie and sweatpants, she gave them comfort.

But it also made them all feel awkwardly indebted.

So now all seven of them were seated on her porch, surrounded by sun warmed wood and the scent of damp earth. Their hair ruffled softly in the lingering morning breeze, the remnants of the storm slowly giving way to bright clear skies above.

Ni-ki sat cross legged on the porch swing with his phone balanced on his knee as he tapped rapidly. The Wi-Fi signal was stronger than he expected for a farm in the middle of nowhere, and someone had scrawled the network name and password in pink marker on the fridge.

"Try 'GoldenRanch24' again," Ni-ki said, voice low as he glanced at Jake.

Jake leaned over to show his phone. "I'm in. You sure it's spelled with a capital G?"

"Yeah. Capital G, capital R. She even underlined it."

Jay let out a little laugh while running a hand through his slightly messy hair. "Of course she did."

The silence stretched. Birds chirped nearby, and a distant rooster somewhere sounded like it was still drunk on the storm. In the city of Seoul it was rare to hear birds chirping so enthusiastically, not because there wasn't birds, but the city had so much going on. Here in the country he could hear and see everything without effort.

"Anything?" Sunghoon asked, arms crossed as he leaned back in one of the chairs.

Ni-ki exhaled slowly. "Nothing good. The nearest hotel is in Seoul. Almost four hours away. And the smaller ones in neighboring towns are booked because of the storm."

"Of course they are," Jungwon muttered. He was perched on the porch rail with his ankles crossed, sharp eyes on the horizon.

"And flights are down too," Ni-ki added. "Airport's reporting heavy delays some runways got flooded."

Jake huffed, blowing his cheeks out dramatically before slumping back against the porch post. "So basically we're stuck here."

"Seoul's not an option," Heeseung muttered, voice low. "We all agreed. That's not why we left." Jay nodded in agreement, "A break means a break. We just wanted to breathe, not go back."

They all went quiet for a moment absorbing the weight of those words. It had started as a hiatus. A runaway plan, almost. Seven men crammed in a truck on a whim. Some laughter, some hope. A few good days of peace before the storm came, literally.

Ni-ki looked up from his phone, his gaze drifting across the field. Morning sun glinted against the dew damp grass. Somewhere the sound of pigs snorting met their ears. The air was cool still, but it was the kind of day that promised heat by noon.

"She's been out since before sunrise," Sunoo said quietly. He was curled on the steps with his chin on his knees. "You can tell. Look at the ground. Tracks go everywhere. She's probably doing farm stuff."

Jake nodded. "Weirdly comforting that she didn't wake us."

"She probably just didn't want to deal with seven sleepy strangers in her kitchen," Jungwon added.

Ni-ki smirked. "Or she wanted the peace before we break something."

He let the teasing fade though, his eyes narrowing at a moving shape in the far distance. "Wait...is that her?"

They all followed his line of sight.

Across the field just below the sloped hill where the broken guest house leaned in sad splintered angles; a small figure was steadily making her way back toward the main home. The sun caught her as she walked, her brown flannel catching the breeze like a flag her boots kicking through the softened mud with confidence the long black hair flowing down her back like ink across paper.

She moved like she didn't care who saw her with her shoulders squared, steps even and arms swinging loosely at her sides. Strong. Steady.

Silent for a moment, the men just watched.

"She really is something," Sunghoon murmured.

"Still think she's a fairy?" Ni-ki teased Jake lightly.

Jake didn't even blink. "More now than last night."

Ni-ki rolled his eyes, but a faint smile pulled at the edge of his mouth. They were still strangers on her porch. Still uncertain. But as the girl grew closer, wiping sweat from her brow and taking in her broken guest house with a tight jaw, Ni-ki felt something shift in his chest.

They didn't know her.

But she'd let them in from the storm.

That meant something.

And maybe it meant they weren't as lost as they thought.

Ni-ki spotted her before anyone else and hadn't taken his eyes off her. And yeah...okay. Maybe he stared a little too long.

But how could he not?

The sun lit her up from behind like she was crafted out of something unreal. Hair swinging down her back, jeans clinging to her legs, cowboy boots kicking up soft tufts of dust, and a flannel shirt hanging open over a black crop top that revealed a stretch of golden, flat stomach. A thin silver cross gleamed from her navel pierced right into the flat curve like a bullet made for his focus.

He was a man with eyes. That's all. He wasn't a creep though. He glanced away the second she looked up to block the sun with her hand, casting her whole face in soft shadow.

Still. Hot and pretty? That wasn't fair.

Ni-ki shifted on the porch railing as she approached, dragging his gaze across the others instead. Yeah, he wasn't the only one. Not by a long shot.

Jay blinked too slowly. Jake had tilted his head like a confused golden retriever. Sunghoon had frozen with his fingers hovering over the text he was sending. Sunoo's mouth was slightly open. Heeseung's jaw was tense. And Jungwon ever the composed leader blinked a few times as if recalibrating.

Ni-ki rolled his eyes. Great. Now they were all idiots.

He should be mad. These were his soulmates, after all. They were supposed to be his. But he wasn't. Because the truth was...he understood. Completely.

She was like if a thunderstorm had skin and soft lips.

"Mornin'," she greeted, her voice the same smooth tone as before, emotionless, but not unkind. Just...level, controlled. Like she had a hundred things on her plate already and didn't need to perform small talk for strangers.

The guys scrambled out a series of quiet hellos and awkward nods.

Ni-ki, who hadn't moved from his spot, just nodded once, sharp. "Hey."

Then came the question they'd all dreaded. "So...how long are you planning to stay in town?"

Seven bodies stiffened at once.

Ni-ki felt it ripple through them like a dropped pebble in still water. He braced, but he didn't panic. Because he knew who would speak.

Sure enough, Jungwon straightened where he leaned on the porch column, voice calm but clear.

"We originally planned to stay for about a month. Just to get away from things for a while. We were working on something together, but now with the power lines down and the guest house..." he trailed off. "It might be a week or two before we're back on track."

She nodded once, absorbing that with no sign of surprise. And then calm as the wind, she said, "You can stay here."

Ni-ki's head whipped toward her. Wait, what?

"But-" she added, cutting through the sharp inhale of at least three of them, "-you'll help around the farm. Nothing's free here."

There was no smile in her voice. No warmth. Just a simple offering of terms. Like she was bartering for cattle, not housing seven strange men in her home.

Still, Ni-ki felt something in his chest unclench.

He could do that. Farm work wasn't scary. He was strong. He was coordinated. He followed directions well. And honestly, something about the idea of working under her instruction made something flutter in his ribcage in a way he didn't want to unpack.

Jake and Heeseung exchanged a look so excited it was almost childish. Sunoo literally clapped once before catching himself. Ni-ki snorted. Of course. They loved animals. The thought of helping on a farm probably made them feel like Disney princesses.

His pretty short princesses!

Jungwon and Sunghoon nodded, quietly respectful. Jay offered a soft "Of course. We'd be glad to help."

Then someone he couldn't remember who, maybe Heeseung asked, "Are you sure? We don't want to intrude."

And she this gorgeous steel spined, flannel wearing woman with piercing eyes and a damn cross hanging from her belly button, smiled.

Not a sarcastic one. Not the clipped, amused curve she gave when Jake said something dumb.

A real smile. Full cheeks. Soft lips. Dimples.

Dimples. Just like Jungwon's. Except hers hit a little deeper, cracked her whole face wide open like sunlight warming cold marble. He was sure he could dip his finger in like a jar of honey.

Ni-kis heart pounded way too fast and he felt like his soul left his body.

She said simply, "You've already seen me in bunny slippers. It's fine."

Then she walked straight past them into her house, hair bouncing like she hadn't just broken the laws of reality.

There was a beat of stunned silence. Then Jay whispered, "Holy shit."

Jake slumped dramatically against the railing. "Okay. Okay. I'm convinced."

"She's a fairy," Sunoo breathed as he nodded making Jake smirk at being 'right'.

"A hot fairy," Heeseung added, and Ni-ki gave him a light shove.

"No, like, an actual fairy," Sunghoon muttered, eyes wide.

"She has dimples," Jungwon said flatly, like it was a crime against nature. "Just like me."

"And that outfit," Jay whispered. "Did you see the boots?"

"No, I was too busy trying not to make eye contact with her abs," Jake whispered back.

Ni-ki stood up and brushed his hands on his pants. "You all need to chill."

They turned to him.

"You're the one who looked first," Jungwon pointed out.

"Yeah, but I did it respectfully," Ni-ki deadpanned. "Unlike you perverts."

"She said we could stay," Sunoo said in awe, hands on his cheeks.

"I'm washing my hands before I touch another doorknob in this house," Jay whispered deeply with respect.

"Same," Jake agreed.

Ni-ki ran a hand through his hair and headed toward the front door. "We have to do everything she says now."