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The kitchen was bathed in the soft glow of under-cabinet lighting as Megan stood at the counter, listening to the electric kettle hiss as it rose to a boil. 1:47 AM, according to the microwave clock—not too late, but she could already feel that she had lost out on any chance of getting a good night of rest. Before she had given up on the fruitless fight, she had been staring at her ceiling for three hours, letting her eyes trace the patterns on the ceiling. Her back ached in that familiar way that made her know tomorrow’s rehearsal would be at 70% and she would feel awful about it.
The kettle clicked off just as soft footsteps approached from the hallway, measured, careful steps that could only belong to one person.
“Hi, Sophia,” Megan said without turning around, already reaching for two mugs from the cabinet. “Let me guess, chamomile with exactly one teaspoon of honey, steeped for five minutes?”
“It's five and a half minutes, not just five,” Sophia corrected gently. She appeared in Megan's peripheral vision, already reaching for the tea bags.
“Right, because those extra thirty seconds make such a difference,” Megan said with a slight smirk, already putting honey at the bottom of Sophia’s mug.
“They do,” Sophia laughed, placing a tea bag in each of their mugs and stepping back to allow Megan to be the one to pour the hot water in. She waved her phone, which showed the 5:30-minute timer, at Megan, as if to prove a point.
This had become their routine over the past few weeks—whenever one of them couldn't sleep, one of them would end up in the kitchen, and inevitably the other would appear within twenty minutes. Megan had started to suspect Sophia had some kind of internal alarm that went off whenever Megan was up and roaming the house, but she never asked.
Sophia settled onto one of the barstools, placing her phone face down at the same spot she always did (just over where it was chipping), her dark hair pulled back in a neat braid. She was wearing a matching pajama set, because she always does, and certainly did not look as exhausted as Megan felt.
“How long have you been awake?” Sophia asked, accepting the steaming mug.
“I gave up on sleeping, like, two hours ago.” Megan slid onto the stool next to her, deliberately scooting close enough that their knees touched just to see if Sophia would flinch at the contact. She did. “How ’bout you?”
“About the same.” Sophia's confirmed. “I was trying to memorize what management said to say about the EP.”
Megan studied her profile, noting the tension in Sophia's jaw, the way her fingers drummed silently. “Uh-huh. And you don’t have those memorized already…”
“I do, but just in case.” Sophia asserted. Megan couldn’t help but watch Sophia’s hand go tense around her mug.
“Right.” Megan's smirk softened into something more genuine. “Well, I’m sure you’ll have it memorized by morning.”
“It's not that simple—” Sophia started, then caught herself. “I mean. Yes. Probably.”
There it was—the tiny crack in Sophia's carefully maintained composure. Megan felt that familiar urge to poke at it, to see if she could get Sophia to actually admit she was struggling with something.
“What's keeping you up tonight?” Sophia asked, clearly eager to redirect attention away from herself. "Besides your back, I'm assuming, based on how you've been moving."
Megan’s smile dropped. Of course, Sophia had noticed. She noticed everything, filed it away in that organized brain of hers, and probably had a whole Excel sheet of what her facial expressions and mannerisms meant.
“My back’s fine,” she said defensively.
“Megan,” Sophia said in that tone, the one that made Megan give up any fight she had in her.
“It's just acting up a little. Nothing I can't handle.” She took a sip of her tea, grimacing slightly when she realized it wasn’t fully steeped yet. "I'm more worried about whether I'm going to be able to keep up tomorrow if it gets worse.”
“You know you can take breaks during rehearsal, right?” Sophia’s voice was so gentle that it made Megan’s chest twist uncomfortably. “No one expects you to push through if you're in pain.”
“I'm not going to be the one holding everyone back because I can't handle some soreness,” Megan said, more bite behind her voice than she intended.
“It's not just soreness if it's keeping you awake.”
“It's not—” Megan stopped, realizing she was about to lie to the one person who seemed to genuinely care about her well-being. “Okay, it's not great. But I'm handling it.”
“By not sleeping and pretending everything's fine?”
“By not making it everyone else's problem,” Megan shot back, then immediately felt bad for the sharpness in her tone. Sophia was just trying to help, she reminded herself. “Sorry. I'm just... I hate that it keeps coming back. Every time I think it's getting better, it flares up again and reminds me that I’m made of glass or something.”
Sophia's timer went off, and she dutifully removed her tea bag. Megan’s too. “You're not made of glass. You're dealing with a chronic issue that requires management, that’s not a crime.”
“That’s basically what I said.”
“It's really not.” Sophia's voice had that quiet authority that she used when she was in “leader mode”, but it was gentler than usual. “And, for what it's worth, I don't think you're not doing enough. If anything, I think you push yourself too hard.”
The compliment hit differently coming from Sophia—someone who rarely gave praise unless it was earned, whose standards were impossibly high for herself and everyone around her.
“Thanks,” Megan said quietly, something warm spreading through her chest, replacing the fluttery, twisting feeling. “That... actually means a lot coming from you.”
“Why?”
“Because, like, you have impossibly high standards for everything.” Megan's smirk returned, though softer now. “Your approval means a lot.”
“I don't have impossibly high standards,” Sophia protested.
“Right…” Megan let the silence stretch just long enough to be comfortable before adding, “So what's really keeping you up? And don't say memorize the interview answers. I know what you prepping for that looks like, and this is different.”
Sophia's fingers stilled on her mug, and for a moment, Megan thought she wasn't going to answer. Then, quietly: “I have that meeting with management tomorrow. Today now, I guess.”
When Megan looked over, Sophia was staring down at her tea intensely.
“What about it?”
“I just... I keep going over everything I might have done wrong lately. Every mistake in rehearsal, every time I might have seemed unprofessional, every interview answer that could have been better.” Sophia's voice was still carefully controlled, but Megan could hear the strain underneath. “And then I start thinking about what they might want to talk about, and I spiral.”
Sophia never admitted to spiraling. Ever. Maybe it was something about 2 a.m. that had her bearing her soul to Megan. That had to be it.
“Hey,” she said gently, abandoning her usual teasing tone. “You know, they probably just want to check in, right? Like, routine stuff. I’m sure you're not in trouble.”
“But what if I am?” Sophia looked up, and Megan caught a glimpse of genuine anxiety in her dark eyes before Sophia quickly looked away. “What if I said something wrong in that last interview, or what if they've noticed that I've been—”
“Soph, breathe.” Megan shifted closer, placing a hand on Sophia’s arm. "You're spiraling. What would you tell me if I was doing this?”
Sophia was quiet for a moment. “I'd tell you that you're catastrophizing.”
“Right. So why don't you listen to that logic?”
“Because I'm supposed to be—”
“Supposed to be what? Perfect? Infallible?” Megan laughed. “Sophia, you're allowed to be human. You're allowed to have off days or say something slightly awkward in an interview.”
“I know that,” Sophia said, but her voice suggested she absolutely did not know that.
“Do you? Because you're sitting here at 2 AM having a panic attack about a meeting that's probably just them asking how you're adjusting to the comeback schedule.” Megan's voice was gentle but direct. "When's the last time you let yourself actually mess up?"
Sophia was quiet for a long moment. “I can't,” she said finally. “If I mess up, it reflects on everyone. On the group.”
"That's some bullshit," she said bluntly.
Sophia's head snapped up, surprise flickering across her features.
“Sorry, but it is.” Megan's voice was firm but gentle. “You're not responsible for everyone else's careers, Sophia. You're not our manager or our CEO. You're just... you. And you being human doesn't doom the rest of us.”
“You don't understand—”
“I understand that you've convinced yourself that everyone else's success depends on you being this ‘perfect’ leader,” Megan interrupted. “And I understand that you think showing any kind of vulnerability makes you a failure. But it doesn’t.”
Sophia opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again, looking lost in a way that made Megan want to take back her words and just wrap her in a blanket.
For a moment, Sophia's carefully maintained composure cracked entirely, and Megan caught a glimpse of the scared, overwhelmed girl beneath all that perfectionism. Then Sophia looked away, her walls slamming back into place.
“We should probably try to get some sleep,” she said, her voice back to its usual controlled tone. “We have rehearsal at nine.”
Megan recognized the deflection for what it was, but she didn't push. Sophia had already shared more than she usually did, and forcing the issue would probably just make her retreat further.
“Yeah, probably,” Megan agreed, though neither of them made any move to leave. “Same time tomorrow night?”
“I hope not,” Sophia said automatically, but there was no real conviction in her voice.
“We’re already cursed with insomnia.” Megan's smirk was back. “We’re, like, insomnia buddies. I think that's like, a sacred bond or something.”
“Sacred bond,” Sophia repeated, and despite everything, Megan caught the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
“Very sacred. You can probably find ancient texts about it.”
“I doubt that.”
"Hey, you don't know. Maybe in ancient Greece, all the philosophers had insomnia buddies too. Maybe that's how they came up with all those theories—2 AM kitchen conversations.”
“That's for sure not how that happened,” Sophia said, but she was definitely smiling now.
“You don't know that. Were you there?” Megan teased, pleased that she'd managed to coax Sophia out of her anxiety spiral, even temporarily. “Besides, I bet Socrates would have loved having someone to make him perfectly timed tea.”
“Did they have tea back then?”
“Details.” Megan waved a hand dismissively. “The point is, we're carrying on a proud tradition of sleepless intellectual discourse.”
“Is that what we're calling this? Intellectual discourse?”
“What would you call it?”
Sophia was quiet for a moment, considering. “I don't know,” she said finally. “But I like it. Whatever it is.”
The admission was soft, honest in a way that made Megan's heart do something complicated. This was her favorite version of Sophia—the one that existed in the spaces between her rigid schedules and perfect facades, the one that was real and vulnerable and achingly human.
“Me too,” Megan said quietly. “I used to hate not being able to sleep. Now…” She trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence without revealing too much.
“Now?” Sophia pushed.
“Now, I kind of look forward to it sometimes. When I know you might be up too.” She breathed.
Sophia looked at her for a long moment, something unreadable flickering across her features. “Megan…”
“Yeah?”
“Nothing. Just…” Sophia shook her head slightly. “I'm glad we have this. Whatever this is.”
The moment stretched between them, heavy with things neither was quite brave enough to say. Megan felt that familiar pull, the urge to close the distance between them, to finally figure out what this thing was that lived in the space between friendship and something more.
But then Sophia was standing, rinsing their mugs with the same precise movements she brought to everything else, and the moment dissolved.
“Come on,” Sophia said, not meeting her eyes. “Let's at least pretend to try sleeping.”
“Together?” Megan asked, then immediately realized how that sounded. Her face went hot. “I mean—for trying to sleep. Obviously.”
“Actually…” Sophia paused, glancing toward the hallway. “Yoonchae has that early morning call with her family in Korea. And Lara's been complaining about your restless nights keeping her up.”
“She said that?” Megan felt a stab of guilt. She'd been trying so hard to be quiet.
“She's not mad or anything,” Sophia said quickly. “She's just a light sleeper. But maybe we should stick to the living room tonight? We could put something on the TV, keep the volume low…”
“Won't we just end up falling asleep on the couch?”
“Would that be so bad?” Sophia asked, and there was something almost shy in her voice. “I mean, if we're going to be awake anyway, at least we can be comfortable. And we wouldn't risk disturbing anyone.”
Megan tried not to read too much into the suggestion, but the idea of curling up on the couch with Sophia, maybe accidentally falling asleep together... Well, it won her over pretty easily. “Okay. But I'm picking what we watch.”
“Fine, but nothing too stimulating. We're supposed to be trying to wind down.”
“When have I ever done that?” Megan asked, already heading toward the living room.
“You made us watch that true crime documentary about unsolved murders.”
“It was a documentary! Everyone falls asleep to those."
“At 3 AM, Megan. You made us watch a documentary about unsolved murders at 3 AM.”
“Details,” Megan said with a grin, settling onto the couch and patting the spot next to her. “Well, this time I promise to pick something boring and mindless.”
Sophia grabbed the remote and settled beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched. She immediately began adjusting the cushions with the kind of precision she brought to everything else, creating what was probably the most ergonomically perfect couch setup in existence.
“Better?” she asked, and Megan realized Sophia had arranged everything to support her back without even being asked.
“Yeah,” Megan said softly. “Thanks.”
As Sophia scrolled through Netflix with characteristic decisiveness, Megan found herself watching Sophia’s profile in the dim glow of the TV. There was something about these quiet moments that made Sophia seem more real, more accessible than her usual perfectly composed self.
“This one,” Sophia said finally, settling on some British cooking show. “Soothing voices, low stakes, no murder.”
“I don’t know, might be stressful,” Megan teased, but she was already settling back against the cushions, her shoulder pressed against Sophia’s.
Twenty minutes into watching people stress about pastry, Megan felt her eyelids growing heavy for the first time all night. The combination of Sophia's steady presence beside her, the soft murmur of the TV, and the comfortable nest of cushions was working better than any sleep aid she'd ever tried.
“This is working,” she mumbled, letting her head drift toward Sophia's shoulder.
“Mmm,” Sophia agreed, and Megan felt rather than saw her relax into the couch. “We should probably go to our actual beds, though.”
“Probably,” Megan said, making no effort to move. “In a minute.”
"In a minute," Sophia echoed, her voice already drowsy.
Megan felt Sophia's head come to rest against hers, and something warm and content settled in her chest. This was nice. This was really nice. Better than lying alone in bed staring at the ceiling, better than tossing and turning while trying not to wake Lara.
“Megan?” Sophia whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. For... tonight. For listening.”
“Thanks for the perfect tea and the couch setup,” Megan replied sleepily. “And for being someone I don't have to pretend to be okay around.”
“You never have to pretend with me,” Sophia said quietly.
“Same goes for you, you know. You don't have to have everything figured out all the time.”
Sophia was quiet for so long that Megan thought she might have fallen asleep. Then, barely audible: “I'm working on it.”
“Good,” Megan whispered back. “We can work on it together.”
The last thing she remembered was Sophia's quiet breathing beside her and the feeling of finally, finally being comfortable enough to let sleep take over. When she woke up hours later, before Sophia’s alarm could go off, she was curled against Sophia's side with a blanket draped over both of them—Sophia must have grabbed it at some point without waking her.
Sophia was still asleep, her usually perfect posture relaxed, one arm wrapped loosely around Megan. Megan knew she should probably move, should wake Sophia up before the others started getting ready for the day. But she was warm and comfortable, and Sophia looked so peaceful, and maybe—just maybe—she could stay here for a few more minutes and pretend that waking up in Sophia’s arms wasn’t just a one-time thing.