That night, Nabi and Jesstina fall asleep early. The performance went spectacularly well after my hiccup, but the scene is circulating the online space. I saw some comments saying that my reaction was all an act, just to "show off" how close I can get to Jungkook. Others are analyzing how I apparently have a severe health condition.

I breathe in deep, trying not to glance at the clock. I already know it's well past one am.

Jungkook hums, rummaging through the cabinets. "Hungry?" he says.

"Always," I say. I sidle up to him, glancing over his shoulder to our ramyeon stash. "I can make it for us."

"No way," he says, taking two packages of my favorite—spicy chicken flavored with sesame. "I'm making up for the last time."

Jungkook grabs two copper pots, setting them on the stove side by side. The telltale click of the switch soon follows. Then he pours water into the two pots, the trickling reminding me of the soaking performance we just got through. Even after a warm shower, my bones remember the storm.

He rips the packages of the soup base and dried vegetables, adding them methodically to each pot. The water turns the most mouthwatering shade of reddish orange. As he waits for the water to boil, he turns around.

His long hair is tied into a little ponytail, and his pajamas are from Seokjin's latest collection—a bright blue with tiny angels on clouds dotting the fabric. Without makeup, his skin shows the tiniest bit of texture attributed to his more acne-prone days. I subdue the urge to draw closer.

"Did you really see him?" Jungkook says, softly. "One of the... guys, I mean."

He practically spits out the word guys, as if he's disgusted—just from that one short conversation I had with him.

And because he already knows this much, I decide to bare my soul a bit more. "There were five of them," I say. "Five main ones, at least. The head guy, if you could call him that, was named Sam. I thought I saw him in the crowd. At least... it looked exactly like him."

I rest my eyes on the familiarity of the dorm room. The couch is beaten down, more gray than white. The carpet needs to be vacuumed. The tiny window overlooks an alleyway that probably no one in Yongsan knows about, with a gray alley cat that Nabi likes to stare at. Jesstina's athletic wear stretches over every chair, joined by more than one of my pairs of sweatpants. We like to keep the lights low, so only an orangish lamp in the living room and the kitchen lights illuminate the space. The scent of Nabi's favorite tropical Febreze, pineapple and Fuji apple, floats between everything, making the sights more homely.

Jungkook catches me admiring our space—which is much more appealing than facing him head-on and admitting that sometimes, I imagine what it'll be like to go back to Chicago.

Screw it, I already said so much.

"All the time, I feared what it would be like to disband, with the Fates not being able to debut." I slowly turn back toward him, noticing that he was following my line of sight to the nearest chair. "I thought that if I failed here, I would go back to Chicago and be caught in the same pattern. The group of boys would find me, even though I could finish my schooling online or transfer. And even though I've graduated here through a program, I still think that if I went back... I don't know."

"I get it," Jungkook says, sparing me from going further. "Your past haunts you there, and you feel safer where you are now. I understand."

I nod. I point to the boiling water. "I think we should start cooking."

Jungkook and I unceremoniously dump the ramyeon noodles into the boiling broth. I expertly press a few buttons on the microwave to set a timer for four minutes.

As I pull my hands away, some steam furls its way through my fingertips. I'm reminded of a hot day in the school courtyard, three of the boys—Loren, Hawk, and Bobbi—taunting me for the fact that I was the only one not talking to a friend during recess.

I close my eyes hard.

"Bad memory?" Jungkook guesses.

I open my eyes just in time to see him grasp for my fingers. He holds my palm gently, lowering it back down to my side. As the water bubbles, I forget about the steam and solely focus on the way Jungkook's nose tilts toward my own, the small scar on his left cheek apparent in the lowlight.

I can't hide the flush that rises around my neck, inching its way toward my cheeks. "Not anything too traumatic."

He waits, and the seconds count down on the microwave out of the corner of my eye. I decide to focus in on something else in my past. "Izzy and Layla," I say, weakly. I can't help the tide of emotions that show up whenever I mention their names. "They were my best friends in middle school. We were practically all the same person, gushing about K-pop and even putting on mini performances in my room. When they left, I didn't know that would leave me with... them." It's easier just to say them, rather than process all the hurt the guys left me with. It's easy, but it's still painful.

"Now you have Nabi, Jesstina," Jungkook says. His lips waver just slightly, and I think I catch his unspoken words. And me.

"I'm glad," I say. "My relationship with Nabi and Jesstina goes much deeper than what I had in middle school. In fact, it was always a surface-level happiness with Izzy and Layla. But... Yuna left so suddenly. And I thought we were destined to debut together. What if that happens again? What if I get left alone?"

Jungkook's hand heats up my own, like I'm holding it two inches above the stove. He licks his bottom lip and raises his forehead toward the lights. The sheen on his pout almost makes me forget all about my worries, the things I never share except with Nabi, Jesstina, and now—Jungkook.

"I'll make sure that doesn't happen," Jungkook says.

But you're leaving eventually too. But I don't voice this, holding onto the fantasy that Jungkook will be here forever, would be permanently a member of the Fates. I hold onto my bad memories, letting them fall apart into fragments as Jungkook continues to hold my hand.

And then, the timer sounds off. Jungkook lets go and stirs the pots with two pairs of metal chopsticks. He expertly picks up his pot and gestures with his chin toward the other one. I smile, picking it up and following him to our small dining table in between the living room and kitchen.

The saltiness, the addicting taste that ramyeon lovers crave, makes me forget about life in Chicago. It's just me, Jungkook, and all the possibilities of what the Fates can be.

"When I was a trainee," Jungkook says, after finishing a massive bite. "I also had a ton of pressure. I thought I needed to do everything in my power to make sure BTS succeeded, so I worked myself until I felt like I could constantly faint.

"Even after I debuted, I felt the same pressure to 'make it.'"

I nod, stirring my soup and watching the little dried vegetables rise to the top. The steam lingers around my face, and this time it feels comforting. "Do you still feel that pressure?" I ask.

"I do," Jungkook answers. He holds his chopsticks like they're much heavier than they are. "No matter how popular and loved BTS becomes, I always think there's a day that we'll fall apart. We're the same on that, Karma."

I loop a finger around the handle of the copper pot, not able to believe that Jungkook was in the same place as me—is in the same place. Our worries are intertwined.

"What about going back to your past?" I ask. "Does that scare you?"

"It scares me," he answers. "But in a different way than you. I'm scared that the people that I've loved all my life will see me differently, that they will treat me like a different person. Sometimes, I wonder if my family and friends see me as distant. I want to show them that I care. At the same time...."

"It's just busy," I say. "And the BTS members are your family too, so you have to keep that in mind."

"Of course." His little smile is like an offering, and I take it.

I veer off course a little, joking about the first time he offered me ramyeon. That first month, when we were still trainees, was an absolute experience. "I've never felt so many conflicting emotions," I say, laughing and almost blowing ramyeon up my nose. "Not only were you a trainee for the Fates, but you were living with us."

Jungkook grins widely. "I still am."

I grin back, burying the little thought in my head that tells me that it all won't last—Jungkook's presence in the Fates, in this room. I slurp up my last bite and finish it off with a large mouthful of salty, spicy, chicken-sesame soup.

There is more to share. There always is, when I bring up my high school days. But I know he has more to share with me too. And offering these little pieces of ourselves, when the whole world is spinning in this terrifying yet exhilarating month of debut, I can take a bit of the pressure off. When the flavor hits my tongue, and Jungkook grins at me like I'm really one of his members, I can float in peace and bliss.

His grin turns a bit more flirtatious. "This was probably one of the best meals I've had in a while. Glad to have a midnight snack with my girlfriend."

I knew the line was coming, so I prepare myself with an easy smirk. Even though on the inside, my stomach is spinning in all kinds of weird loops. "I have an idea. Why don't we get a couple's outfit?"

Jungkook weighs the idea with his head, tilting right and left until he ends with a satisfied nod. "Yeah. Why don't we."

I grin. "Next week, we're shooting our second music video. Let's have it ready by then, even though we'll change for the actual shoot."

"Aye, aye, leader," Jungkook says. He reaches across the table and jabs my shoulder, and electricity travels its way all through my nerves. When he leans back, I think he's done. But then he blows me a kiss. I swear, I feel it travel onto my cheek like a will-o'-the-wisp.

A/N: We finally have the ramyeon scene that we all needed. There's something so therapeutic about writing scenes with a comfort food.

Have you ever tried one of Jungkook's favorite recipes? I'm so interested to try, especially for a midnight snack.