stardust | park seonghwa ✓

23

hwa
hi um
do u want to get noodles?

me
ppffttt
yea
what kind of question is that?

THAT'S how I even manage to get outside my apartment at almost eight in the evening. To be very honest, if it wasn't for the word 'noodles' I probably won't even be walking down the street in my runners with no socks on and a hoodie to mask my Batwoman onesie.

It's still very much cold out and I dig my hands further in my hoodie pockets as another gust of wind blows. But the streets are still crowded, the night was still young. There are a million reasons as to why I should stay at home and feed on ice creams instead, but like I said — noodles. Priorities come first.

The ramen house Seonghwa chose to meet me at wasn't very far from my apartment, which is pretty considerate of him since the weather was chilly. The red storefront finally looms in on the corner of the street, a warm smile makes its way on to my face seeing a familiar figure sitting by the window.

Warm air hits my face when I push the door open. I bite back a laugh when Seonghwa straightens up in his seat as I take the seat across from him.

"You're wearing that onesie," he comments.

"The one and only," I say, "anyways, you should feel special 'cause I'm here."

Seonghwa snorts, "I know you're only here for the noodles."

"What? No!" Which isn't exactly a lie.

Seonghwa rolls his eyes in response and I want to smack a napkin to his face to wipe off his amused smirk.

"Anyways, what are we going to order?" my eyes follow a waiter on the other side of the room.

"Oh, I already ordered."

I give him the stink eye. "Yeah, right. You don't even know what I order."

"Yeah?"

I nod.

"Well then, we'll say what you usually order in the count of three."

"One, two, three."

"Spicy miso ramen!" "Spicy miso ramen." We say at the same time.

I pause, blinking at Seonghwa who is smiling victoriously. "See?" he leans back on his seat, flipping an imaginary strand of hair over his shoulder, "I know these stuff."

"How though?" I gape at him, genuinely shocked.

I've never eaten ramen with him before, at least, not that I remember. All I remember are instant cup noodles that we'd snack on while I watch him work on his music in the studio. And even that wasn't exactly 'miso ramen'.

"A couple of days ago I was playing on your phone and saw your food delivery history..." he trails off, "don't you ever get anything else? I only saw like, two orders for chicken and boba like, smushed in the middle of the gazillion ramen orders."

My mouth makes an 'o' shape, grinning sheepishly afterwards.

I mean, can you really blame me when noodles taste so fucking good? Whoever first had the idea of making them hundreds and thousands of years ago are truly a mastermind, way ahead of their time to be thinking of such thing. I'd give them a Nobel Prize if I could.

"Anyways, did you just come back from the studio?" I ask Seonghwa, noticing the black bag placed on the seat next to him.

"Yeah," he answers, "last touches for my project and stuff."

"So you're nearly done then?"

"I was done ages ago but I had to polish up some things," Seonghwa sighs, "you know, with me being a perfectionist and everything. What are you going to do for the showcase?"