stardust | park seonghwa - Chapter 24: Chapter 24

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?"
"Professor Hyun is making us  do mini-galleries," I tell him, "I don't know about my other classes just yet ― I hope they're not making us do projects."
"You know," the dark haired begins, shifting in his seat a little, "I still remember your piece for last year. An angel sculpture, was it?"
I let my jaw drop. How did he? How does he remember? Even I've forgotten that depressing excuse of an 'angel sculpture', or whatever that was meant to be.
"How did you ―?"
"It was an impressive piece and don't try to argue," he lifts his hand, signalling for me to stop as soon as I try to exclaim in protest. I huff, pouting my lips.
Soon after, our orders ― or Seonghwa's, more like ― comes. Seonghwa makes a big deal on wiping the sides of the bowl so it wont drip on to the surface of the table (which I find no point it especially since it's going to splat everywhere). Me with my spicy miso ramen and him with his plain old shoyu ramen.
"Don't judge me for my noodles," he mutters defensively.
"I didn't even say anything!"
"But you were about to."
"Look," I plunge my chopsticks into my bowl, "I love every type of noodles, who am I to judge?  Besides, there are more things you've eaten that made me question your sanity."
Like that one time where Seonghwa stuck a stick of celery inside a tub of peanut butter. That tasted awful, by the way, if you'd even consider it as 'taste'. It made my stomach churn and the piece of vegetable hadn't even traveled down my esophagus.
As Seonghwa twirls his pair of chopsticks in his bowl of noodles, he seems to catch on  with my train of thoughts as his half-curious half-suspicious eyes looks taken aback.
"It doesn't even taste bad!"
With my mouth full of food, I say, "it makes you sound like you're having pregnancy cravings."
"I can't even get pregnant!"
I wave my hand absentmindedly. "Let's face it, Hwa, who even eats a stick of celery — a raw one! — with peanut butter and calls it 'yum'?"
"You have no taste," the music student frowns.
"After eating it I think I'll lose a lot of my taste buds, yeah."
Seonghwa kicks my shin lightly from under the table. He mumbles about how I'm exaggerating and that if I ever lose any kinds of games or bets with him, he'll make me eat them as a punishment.
The thought itself makes me shudder in disgust. I gag, almost losing appetite. But, who says I'll ever lose anything to old Grandpa Seonghwa?
Across from me, I hear Seonghwa snickering and probably knows what I'm thinking of. He goes on a detailed description on how it tastes like, the texture, and how it smells like. All the while he's occasionally bringing his chopsticks to his mouth, savouring his own noodles as if his sentences don't bother him.
It scares me.
"Anyways, there's something I want to show you," he sets down his eating utensils, sips from his drink and goes ahead to pull his phone from his jacket pocket.
I hum in response, watching him through the top of my lashes.
Seonghwa sets his phone on the table and slides it along. My hands reach for the device, tilting it so that I can see as I take another chopstick to my mouth.
A familiar page is shown on the screen and I straighten my posture (to somehow read clearer, but how does that even make sense?) with the strands of noodles hanging from my lips. As my eyes read the words, I nibble it down.
"Seonghwa," I look at him questioningly, flipping the phone in his direction, "is this what I think this is?"
The brunette shrugs, handing me a piece of napkin so I could wipe the corners of my mouth. The way he's smiling lets me know that he's satisfied with his slick move.
"That, my dear Hyeshin, is our B-TEEZ ticket," he states, chin jutting at his phone.
"'Our'?"
"Yeah, our ticket," Seonghwa echoes, "cool upgrade from my fate last year, right? I got two instead of one this time. We can go together!"
"Yes but... wow, Seonghwa," I scan the screen once more, shaking my head a little, "I'm speechless. I — thank you, really."
Indeed I am. But probably for an entirely different reason than he one Seonghwa thinks I'm speechless for.
Sighing, I set the phone down on the table. I grimace inwardly as Seonghwa's excited eyes dim when I don't react the way he wanted me to.
"Thing is, I already got mine."
His face falls, letting his hands ball up loosely on the table and lets his gaze down. "Oh."
"Sorry," I apologise.
But seeing his fallen face makes my heart crack a little. I can tell he's disappointed and the thing with Seonghwa is that once he's disappointed, he'll think about it long after the problem has passed.
The gears in my brain try to find a way to cheer him up. I hate how he tries to conceal is dissatisfaction with a tightly pressed pair of lips in a disguise normal people could overlook as a smile. But it's not, his eyes tell a different story.
So I reach out for his fisted hand because I hate to see him disappointed, unclasping it and interlacing my fingers with his. He lifts his head, gaze meeting with mine and I offer him a small smile. "It's okay," I say.
"I'll go with you," my heart flutters when Seonghwa casts a hopeful expression. "You already spent a lot on it, it would be a waste."
He chews on his bottom lip slowly, "but how about yours?"
"Eh," I shrug, "I can always sell it again. I have a feeling if I do keep it, you and I wont be somewhere close together."
"Fair point."
I continue to finish my food, something in me that feels cozy slithering down my body when Seonghwa smiles how he usually does it.
My mind wanders off to think about ways I could re-sell my ticket. I'm sure a lot of people would want it, even at any given price. But I'm not one to raise it higher more than it needs to be, but if I were to lower it, I shouldn't lower it so much. I think of many other ways and when something pops into my mind, I think; should I?
"Hwa, how about San?"
"San?"
I nod. "Yeosang would probably rip the ticket in half if I ever give it to him and San... well... I did say to him when we were buying it and ending up getting two, he'll have the other one."
My head tilts as I wait for Seonghwa's answer.
"Come on, it'll be fun with another person!" I try to convince him, "yeah?"
After a while, Seonghwa nods. "Sure, why not?"
I immediately grin (I can sky-rocket out of my chair if I wanted to) because as they say, the more the merrier, right?
"Yes!" I cheer, almost knocking over my ramen bowl, "this is going to be sooooo fun! I can't wait!"