def-march:
@outofyourvector :||
“Hey, Sho, can I ask you something?” An anxiety inducing question for nearly everyone on the planet, although the realization of it’s weight didn’t hit until the words had already been out. 777 dropped his phone on his chest, raising his hands up defensively.
“It ain’t anythin’ bad, I swear.”
The singer gave a sheepish smile as he looked up, violet eyes meeting golden hues. The two had merely been lounging on the bands couch in content silence, 777 with his head in the lap of the other, freshly washed and blow dried hair scattered about, Sho’s fingers running through it.
“Whenever me an’ the gang go to Ramen Don, you never wanna come wit’ us. I mean, I bring ya back somethin’ regardless, ‘cuz it’s good food, honestly– but do ya not like it? If ya got any other ideas on where ya wanna go once an’ a while, I’m sure the guys won’t mind.”
Amber eyes glanced downward as they narrowed. The question all the more suspicious as it was a trigger loaded question for anyone. ‘Nothing bad’, yet he already looked like he was cautious in the question directed to him. Finger of his free hand tapping on the arm of the worn couch he sat on awaiting the question, which had a probability of being a stupid he’s sure. Yet, it caught him off guard. Inwardly frowning, being question to his lack of presence of going to...’that’ place. It would be simple for someone to not like the food and just didn’t care about going back, right?
“I know it’s good food.”
He’d never reject the food in the least when he brought him something. Usually the same dish indicating that it had to be a favorite of his, which he had to have been to the restaurant before. At least to him, the majority of most ramen places were garbage or at least sub-part not coming close to the quality that Ramen Don had. Not just in taste, but the effort made to make sure each dish is just tailored to the customer. It always tasted better and better no matter how many times he had it.
But actually going there? He out right refused when it was the place of choice. Merely stating he didn’t feel like going and to bring him back ‘whatever’. Truth be told the fragmented memories he had would hit him in the face so hard if he even had to see that place from a distance. Composer knows hat he was going to feel stepping in it.
“The hell you even askin’ me a question like that? It’s just food--”
