"So, how did it go?" Namjoon asked, sticking his hip out, and proceeding to clap in a helicopter motion, slowly turning. He attempted to mirror the figures dancing on screen, and in a poorly calculated movement, he knocked over his water bottle. It landed on the hardwood with a loud, metallic, clanging noise that rand throughout their shared apartment. Seokjin winced, pausing the game, to pick the bottle up. He might like Namjoon, but he wasn't going to sacrifice points for him. Especially not in Just Dance.

"I winged it," Seokjin said, wrapping his hand around the bottle, and setting it upright. The image of the students cheering was still ingrained into his mind. Then, he thought of Jimin and his sparkling eyes, leaning against the wall. He stood up, suddenly, grinning like an idiot. "I made a friend."

Namjoon turned to face him. "Really?" He asked. "How'd you manage to do that?" He looked perplexed, eyebrows furrowed. "Weren't you supposed to give a speech and go?"

Seokjin straightened up to explain, but suddenly, Namjoon's ringtone sounded out. FourFive Seconds echoed through the room, interrupting Seokjin. Namjoon pulled the phone out of his pocket and checked the screen, holding it out for Seokjin to see.

"It's Adora," He said, apologetically. "Tell me later, okay?"

And with that, he ran to his room to answer his call. Sighing, Seokjin switched off the game screen, and threw himself onto the couch. Just Dance would have to wait another day.

"No, Jungkook," Seokjin said, carefully plucking the sugar out of the apprentice's hand. Jungkook's eyes followed the jar of sugar in Seokjin's hands, slowly moving the sweeter lookalike of salt away from him. Seokjin sighed. His day had been damp and dull, much like Jungkook's failed attempt at noodles. Not to mention Seokjin didn't have a chance to talk about the school encounter with Namjoon the previous day. "We use salt to season the noodles. Not sugar."

Jungkook let out a heavy breath, shoulders slumping. "Face it, Chef Kim. I'm hopeless. What kind of idiot can't tell the difference between salt and sugar?"

Seokjin scoffed. "This idiot," He said, switching the sugar for its more savory counterpart. "No one can tell the difference between the two just by sight. Which is why, as chefs, we always taste our ingredients."

To demonstrate, Seokjin sprinkled some salt into the pot, along with some other seasonings that Jungkook probably couldn't name. Carefully, he dipped the tasting spoon into the pot, picking up a few cooked noodles, then tried them out on his tongue. 

"Horrid," Seokjin said, bluntly.

"Gee, thanks." 

Seokjin shook his head slightly, cracking his neck, like he always did before fixing the unfixable, more well known as one of Jungkook's culinary disasters. It was common practice these days, but it didn't mean that Seokjin couldn't look cool doing it. Jungkook watched, head cocked to the side in slight confusion, with a pinch of awe mixed in.  

In a second, Seokjin threw together a glorious tomato sauce to dress up the bland, starchy noodles, then cut some green vegetables and roasted some brussel sprouts in a separate pan. Jungkook tried to follow along as Seokjin tossed the sauce and noodles together, sliding the almost-perfect dish onto a white plate, followed by the greens. The young apprentice blinked, as if the sight before him were unreal.

"I did my best," Seokjin said, shaking his head. "But I'm afraid you've screwed up your noodles so bad, not even the curses of Gordon Ramsay can scare them into fixing themselves."

Jungkook shrugged, taking a fork and winding the noodles into it, before shoving as much as he could into his mouth. It wasn't bad at all, to be honest. The sauce was creamy, and the greens were crisp and were bursting with flavor, but, it could've been a lot better without the noodles.

"Eat slower, pig." Seokjin huffed. "You'll choke."

"Don't you do this?" Jungkook asked, mouth halfway full.

"Yes, but I don't talk when I eat. Disgusting. And, time's up!" Seokjin declared, as the timer on his phone rang, signaling the end of Jungkook's training. "Next time, I want you to learn how to prepare a sauce, and for God's sake, learn how to boil noodles!"

Jungkook scoffed. "Okay, okay," He conceded, untying the simple black apron that hung around his neck. He hung it on one of the hooks on the far end of the kitchen, and waved to his superior before leaving the restaurant. The chef watched as the door closed behind his trainee, the bell over jingling slightly. 

Seokjin glanced down at the dish before him, a few mixed emotions running around. He couldn't waste it, the option was out of the question. Sighing, the chef packed it up, and told himself he'd figure out what to do with it at home. Seokjin had parked his car a bit of a ways away from his restaurant that day, seeing as his regular spot had been occupied on the busy morning. He'd tried to look at things in a positive way, but more exercise wasn't much of an excuse to Seokjin, especially in the wintertime.

He buried one hand into the pocket of his deep blue jacket, clenching his fist inside. The evening had taken a bitter turn, the chills of wind slashing across the chef's smooth skin. The roar of the harsh winter air covered the sound of a scuffle in an alleyway up ahead.

"Almost there, almost there!" Seokjin muttered, the hand holding the dish freezing up. He wasn't exactly quite there yet, he still had about a block to go, but there was no reason he couldn't be hopeful. His resolve strengthened when the wind died down a little, and he found the will to start walking a little faster, now that his limbs didn't feel quite as frozen. He nearly missed the fight in the alleyway, but a familiar whimper snatched the attention of Seokjin's ears. 

He'd heard that voice somewhere, a faint imitation of the sound being elicited at that second.

Seokjin stopped dead in his tracks, and turned towards the alleyway. Of course he'd heard that sound before. A day ago, in the boys bathroom. Seokjin bolted down the alleyway out of pure instinct, eyes wide. He was shocked at the sight of two thugs, taking turns at throwing punches at Seokjin's friend, calling out insults and kicking him down. What interested him was the sight of a girl, hanging out at the top of the fire escape in just a t-shirt and jeans. Her skin looked oddly warm-toned in the wintertime, like she didnt belong there. Her black hair was cut just abover her shoulders, whipping around in the wind. She didn't seem cold, but she was just watching things unfold before her eyes. Her bright red converse looked out of place in the alleyway.

Jimin hadn't caved in yet. He stumbled at each strike, but kept himself standing, even if he was close to tumbling over. One more strike to the legs, and he'd go down.

"Hey!" Seokjin yelled, flapping his free hand around to get their attention. The thugs regarded the chef, eyeing him suspiciously. Jimin squinted his bruised eye at him as well, then widened them, remembering their meeting. He rubbed his eyes with both hands, as if he were seeing things. He'd caught their attention, but now he had to keep it. Sucking in a deep breath of cold winter air, he forced a smirk onto his face. "What are you doing outside in that?"

A simple trick he'd learned from Namjoon, who studied psychology. Putting emphasis on different words in the same sentence could have a wide range of meanings, causing the recipient to think more about the statement. Not only did it make the recipient feel a certain way, it also bought Seokjin time.

Seokjin strolled up to the two boys as smoothly as he could possibly stroll in the cold, trying to put a confident bounce in his step. Not that he needed to try. Confidence was part of him.

"How much did this chain cost? Three dollars?" Seokjin asked, tugging on the larger boy's chain necklace. He huffed. Fashion these days. "Leave him alone. Before I get mad. I don't like getting mad at kids."

Jimin shook his head behind the thug. Seokjin, not knowing what signal to send him, shot him a discreet finger heart for reassurance. 

"Or you'll what?" The smaller one scoffed. 

"Just walk away. It's not like you can do anything." The other one retorted. Seokjin had to resist slamming a fry pan into their heads. They hadn't used honorifics. Jimin and Seokjin locked eyes for a second, both agreeing on something in their minds.

Seokjin glanced down at the meal in his hands. It was packed up in a cardboard container, and could be easily opened with one hand. Suddenly, a crazy idea sparked in his head. "Don't make me take out what's in the bag." 

The woman atop the fire escape peered inside the bag, watching her dumb comrades wonder.

The two thugs clenched their fists, but the smaller one, who seemed to be in charge, put his hand on the other's shoulder. "He's just bluffing, Hoseok." Seokjin shook his head, reaching inside the bag slowly, opening the lid slightly. 

"You asked for it," He said, bringing the box up to the rim of the plastic bag. And at the last second, Seokjin screamed: "EAT JUNGKOOK'S NOODLES!" And flung the open package into their confused-looking faces with all the strength he could muster. Jimin and Seokjin ran out of the alleyway at full tilt, while the two boys were still dazed and confused. Seokjin glanced back for a second, to see whether the two thugs were following, but they were still wiping the under cooked noodles off of each other furiously. He caught a sight of the girl, laughing slightly, and they made eye contact for a split second. She simply grinned, giving him a salute with two fingers.

He grinned, grabbing Jimin's wrist and pulling him along.