Ramen - Alternate Ending

“Me?”

“Well, you’re my plus one,” she said, as if it is so obvious. “I need someone to save me when some guy starts being cringe.”

"Well I hope I get free cocktail shrimp.”

“I’ll get you ten shrimp if you make sure I don’t get cornered by the jazz majors.”

So here you were, awkwardly fixing the collar of your black shirt in the dorm mirror, shoes slightly too formal for your comfort. While behind you, Ahyeon spun slowly in her chair and fully dressed in a sleek black dress, hair half-tied, minimal makeup, with the boba eyes that still held that same introvert exhaustion she always carried underneath the cool.

“You look nice,” “You better thank the shrimp,”

Ahyeon cracked a grin and finally stood, smoothing out the dress. “Sure sure, roomie.”

You both left the dorm around sunset, walking in quiet sync like you were headed to a funeral and not an arts faculty mixer. She clutched her phone in one hand and a can of peach soda in the other, sipping like it was going to distract her from the event.

“You sure you wanna do this?” you asked when the event space came into view, revealing the soft music, fairy lights, laughter you could already feel echoing in your bones.

She didn’t answer right away. Just nudged her shoulder lightly against yours. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

"That's because you asked me to."

The rooftop was already buzzing by the time you got there, as you expected. People milled about in semi-formal wear, holding fancy drinks and laughing in the way extroverts do when they don’t fear socializing like a natural disaster. Your body felt it instantly and, oh my fucking god, the overstimulation, the background static. Ugh.

Ahyeon slipped back into her campus persona like a second skin. Chin slightly up, eyes calm, small nods instead of greetings. You could see her scanning the crowd with detached ease, yet her hand lingered on your wrist longer than necessary every time someone new walked up.

Still, you both kept to yourselves mostly, parked near the snack table with matching plates of fruit and shrimp cocktails, sipping quietly from clear cups and exchanging occasional sarcasm under your breath.

“So this is mingling.”

“I want to evaporate,” she whispered back, eyes darting toward a group approaching.

You chuckled, tugged her gently by the elbow toward a quieter corner behind a decorative plant wall. She didn’t resist.

“You’re better at pretending than me.”

“I’m only pretending with them,” she replied. “Not with you.”

You looked over. Her eyes are fully tired. Soft. You didn’t say anything, but you made sure to stay close. You’d gotten so used to her closet self that watching her slip in and out of this social mode was still surreal. She was good at it. Too good. But every so often, her real self-leaked through with the little sighs, the eye rolls, the way her fingers kept fiddling with her sleeve whenever someone walked by too slowly.

And that was when he arrived.

Some dude bitchass looking well dressed, a bit too much cologne, shiny shoes, fake confidence. He walked up like he owned the rooftop, holding two glasses of wine and an expression like he’d just discovered fire.

“Ahyeon, right?” he asked, smiling wide. “Didn’t expect to see you here. You look…” He paused, eyeing her up and down. Too long. Too obviously. “…stunning.”

Bleh. Ew.

You turned your head slightly. Her expression was unreadable, all soft smiles and poised stillness. But you caught the twitch in her jaw. The way her arm shifted just a bit closer to you.

“Thanks,” she replied flatly. “Didn’t expect to be here either.”

The guy chuckled, still undeterred. “Well, it’s fate then. Mind if I steal you for a dance?”

Your brain short-circuited. A dance? There wasn’t even a dance floor, bro. Just awkward open space, some lounge chairs, and a whole lot of people pretending to have deep conversations.

Before she could reply, you stepped forward, placing your empty glass on the nearby table.

“She’s good, thanks.”

The guy blinked. “Sorry, who are you?”

“I’m with her,” you said simply. “Also, not in the mood for dancing. Or whatever you're trying right now.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, Ahyeon burst into a short, muffled laugh behind you. Like she was trying not to but couldn’t help it.

The guy raised his hands in surrender, muttered something about “all good,” and shuffled away.

You turned back to her, mildly bracing yourself for a lecture, but she just stared at you with a look you hadn’t seen before. A weird mix of surprised, amused… and maybe grateful.

“…Didn’t know you could do the protective thing.”

“Me neither,” you said with a shrug. “Besides, your resting bitch face was failing.”

“Excuse m—” “Your eyebrow was doing the panic twitch.”

"Ah…" She rubbed her temples. “Ugh. This is why I don’t go to these things.”

You bumped your elbow gently against hers. “Then let’s leave.”

“But we’ve only been here thirty minutes.” “Exactly. We beat our record. I get why you don't wanna go.”

She looked at you, really looked at you, then smiled. “Okay. Let’s go.”

You two changed the moment you got home. Ok change is too slow; you just rip off the “cool but I can’t breathe in this” outfit and tossing it on your chair. Ahyeon followed behind you, peeling off her jacket and kicking her heels off so hard one landed under your bed.

Then came the sigh.

“Remind me never to listen to you again,” she groaned, already digging through the cabinet for her Bobby.

“You say that” you muttered, pulling two bowls from the drying rack, “but I also remember you saying ‘make sure I don’t get cornered by business majors,’ and look who came crying to me.”

“I didn’t cry. I used my meat shield.” “Ah yes. Meat shield. How nice.”

She glared at you without heat and flicked a noodle at your arm once the ramen started boiling.

Ten minutes later, you were both back in your natural habitat: crouched on the floor, knees tucked close, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, slurping ramen like it was the cure to everything wrong with the world.

“Yours is too spicy,” you said, eyeing the fiery red broth in her bowl.