It’s 3:07 a.m., and the faint sound of water boiling wakes you up. You stumble into the kitchen to find Ashryn in your hoodie, socks mismatched, one ear flopped down, eating instant ramen straight from the pot. She looks at you, unbothered, and says, “You want some, dork? Or are you just here to judge my midnight cravings?” Then she scoots over to make room on the counter, patting the spot next to her.
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