On the day of my flight from Chicago, right before the next soulmate date, everything was wrong. I left early for my flight, only to have Faye rush my forgotten passport to the airport before I was able to check-in. One of the wheels to my suitcase broke, clinking against the floor and drawing every eye toward me until I dropped it off at the luggage hold. Going through airport security always made me anxious, the yelling of instructions and bustle of people overwhelming me.

I ended up seated between a man who opted for wearing his strongest, foulest smelling cologne and a woman who immediately removed her sneakers, resting her bare feet between our seats. I was suddenly wishing that I booked the flight option with a four hour layover in New York, willing to face the wait and trekking through another airport for the possibility of being sat by less irritating passengers.

The smell kept me awake nearly the entire flight, through two movies, a relisten to "After Hours," and the latest narrative podcast I'd been sucked into. I became immune to the smell and feeling of discomfort seven hours in, nodding off with my head drooped against my chest for the remaining three.

My neck was sore when I woke to the sound of the flight attendant announcing our descent, instructing us to buckle our seatbelts. I closed my eyes during the shaky landing, accidentally grabbing onto the man's hand next to me instead of the armrest. When I snatched it away he sent me a flirtatious smirk. I couldn't imagine that I looked even half-decent enough for someone to be interested in after the exhausting journey to Milan.

People rushed to claim their bags and nab a taxi from the line at the front of the airport. In the sea of people yelling out to each other it felt like every word I learned and practiced using Duolingo over the past couple of months disappeared from my brain.

A driver at the back of the line spotted me, already looking like a lost puppy in a new city. He waved me down, grabbing my bags and setting them in the trunk of his car. I had yet to consider that I was in the beginning of the next soulmate date until he met my eye, attractive but not the one or two.

I presented him with the address of the two-bedroom apartment I'd pretty blindly signed a year's lease to, joining a couple who occupied the first room. Margo had an intern from the area vet the contract and take a tour of the place to ensure it would be somewhere comfortable and safe.

The streets were narrower and I watched the city pass through the window. The blur of beautiful, neoclassical style buildings and graffiti etched on walls next to the sidewalk made me think of Namjoon. He would be obsessed with this place.

The driver pulled to the edge of the street next to a building where small, iron balconies faced the road, a pattern of windows where people lounged and looked out into the street of people biking and on foot.

I paid the driver and stopped by the landlord's office, the door covered with a sign that indicated he was out and to stop by his room in case of emergency. I rode the small elevator to the first floor, knocking on his door lightly and then a little harder when he took his time answering.

He paused his fussing when he opened the door, realizing that I couldn't understand a word he was saying and switching to English. "You are the new tenant?"

"I am. It's nice to meet you." I replied, hoping that he would make our encounter quick. I felt gross and desperate for a bathroom. Thankfully, he wasn't much for conversation, grabbing a manila folder from the entry table and handing it to me without another word, my name and apartment number printed on the front.

I moved slower back to the elevator, my arm aching from dragging my bag and the wheel still clanging against the wood floor. At the door to apartment 303 I pinched open the small envelope that held my copy of the key. The final straw in my transfer from Chicago to Milan came when I dropped the key for the second time while balancing my carry-on on one shoulder and the folder with my documents in my arm.

The aggravated groan that left my mouth could apparently be heard through the door, the patter of approaching feet and a giggle sounding before someone pulled the door open.

An incredibly beautiful woman stood on the other side, raising a brow at my dull expression and ratty hair before turning her head to yell into the apartment.

"Jungkook, there's someone at the door." She called out with a posh English accent.

There he was, the first, my eyes wide as he turned the corner from the hall, shirtless and with his sweatpants hanging just below the line to his underwear. It partially reminded me of the first time I saw Yoongi, except that where the universe melted around me, setting eyes on Jungkook felt like there was an entire galaxy inside me.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a foamy toothbrush tucked into the other. "You must be our new roommate." He tilted his head to the side as he looked me up and down..

I was barely processing the complication it would be to have my next soulmate as a roommate, scoffing internally that even worse, he was partnered with my other new roommate.

"I was heading out. Call me tonight?" The woman searched for his attention as he leaned into the doorway, his eyes barely leaving mind to look at her. She brushed past my shoulder on her way out, her head turning back to look at us as she walked down the hallway with only a wag of his fingers in her direction.

"Is that girl gone? And did I hear something about a roommate?" Another voice sounded from the hall, a thick head of dark hair facing the floor to look at the belt they were looping through a sleek pair of slacks. His shoes clicked against the floor as he approached, pausing in his step when he finally glanced up.

Somehow at the same time as the galaxy that lit me up internally, a feeling of complete serenity, peace echoed around me. He stepped up behind Jungkook, draping one arm around his shoulder and peering over the other to look at me. "Welcome to la nostra casa." He beamed, slapping Jungkook on the chest and scolding him with a laugh. "Get the bags, muscles."

I stood frozen in the doorway, hesitant to go inside with my new roommates, who were also my soulmates and were apparently the couple I was supposed to live with. Jungkook reached out to grab my bags, an amused expression on his face as he held my gaze. "Is there a problem?" He asked, the other sending me a look of concern.

"Do we have a shower I can use right now?" I blinked out of my trance, suddenly aware of the texture of my hair and layer of dirt on my skin again. I needed to deal with that first. I could process whatever this new dynamic meant later.

They both nodded, seeming intrigued by my surely odd first impression.

"Then there's no problem." I commented instantly, a lie that I would realize once I settled in to as one put it, la nostra casa.
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Author's Note: This is a bit of a short transition chapter, but I hope you all will enjoy the next situation that's about to happen. Just know that as per usual, the dynamics are probably not as they seem at first glance. Happy reading!