Kevin collects.
Well, it's not really collecting, but he doesn't like to call it hoarding.
He just likes to have things. Things fans send him, things the members give him, things he buys for himself.
They're comforting.
He likes to surround himself with things. They make him feel safe. The more he collects the more he feels like he belongs. There are things here. They mark a place specially for him in the world. They show where he's been. Getting rid of even a single item is painful, like he's discarding a piece of himself. The less he has the less he feels like he matters. If he throws everything out how will he know he's even been here at all?
Kevin collects.
He collects because he's insecure and he's scared of being cast aside and forgotten. Sometimes he looks around at the clutter and can't help but feel angry at how much space is taken up by useless things, but then he wonders if the other think of him that way. Is he just useless junk taking up space? Will they throw him out and forget about him? Does it even matter? The thoughts in his head are loud and terrifying, so he buys a new piece for his collection and tucks the feelings away with it. He bottles everything up until one day he comes home and discovers the others have boxed up his collection and given it away, leaving just the essentials. The room looks so bare, like he had never really been there at all. The emptiness scares him. It eats away at any sign of life, and sign that he has ever been there. So the next day he goes out and buys himself something, just a small stuffed toy, and tucks the fear away as he slides the thing under his pillow. He knows this isn't healthy. He knows he needs help. But he can't shake the need or the fear, so he keeps collecting.
Kevin collects, and he has no idea how to stop.