short, unfinished hokushin drabble. 705 words.
“Well?”
Shintaro’s face is expectant as he looks at Hokuto from across the table. Hokuto chews deliberately, savoring the flavors of the pasta on his tongue, before finally swallowing and nodding approvingly.
“It’s super good,” he grins and then laughs when Shintaro makes a victorious fist pump. He’s worked hard on perfecting the spaghetti aglio e olio, Hokuto knows.
It all started from their talk and joking on the radio, continued on the blogs, and finally about a week ago Shintaro messaged Hokuto, inviting him over to try the perfect pasta.
I checked with the managers and apparently you’re free on Thursday evening. Is that okay? The sooner the better?!” Reading the message, Hokuto had smiled at his phone. He’d accepted the invitation instantly; truth be told, he’d already been waiting for it.
So here he is now, sitting in Shintaro’s dining room, with a surprisingly fancy setting. Shintaro’s really made an effort with the dinner; there was a nice starter salad, and there apparently is a dessert, too. And the main dish is absolutely delicious.
“This is even better than at restaurants!” Hokuto compliments and means it.
Shintaro beams. “Thanks! But this is a restaurant? The Taro’s, didn’t I tell you?”
“Oh? What happened with Re Appetit and French cuisine?”
Shintaro shrugs and takes a sip of his wine. “Maybe I’ll switch to pasta after all... This wine is very good, by the way! Nice choice.”
“Good to hear!” Hokuto had brought it with him, wanting to be a good guest. He had researched for a wine that goes well with pasta.
He takes a sip as well, hoping a little alcohol in his system will make him more relaxed. Under all his excitement about the evening, he’s also been a bit nervous. Shintaro’s doing so much to him, putting in so much effort that he can’t help thinking the night is somewhat special. That makes him nervous. And also foolishly hopeful.
It doesn’t help that they’ve jokingly called it a date once or twice in their messages over the past few days. Deep down Hokuto knows it is just that - a lighthearted joke, at least for Shintaro, and yet… He catches himself hoping against hope.
Maybe that smile, that look, that warm tone of Shintaro’s voice mean something? Maybe this splendid dinner he’s spent so long preparing just for Hokuto means something?
“Everything alright?” Shintaro’s question shakes him out of his thoughts, and he hurries to nod.
“Yeah, sure!”
Hokuto gulps down more wine and busies himself with the pasta to distract himself from his thoughts. He quickly glances up, meeting Shintaro’s eyes - and there it is again, the soft and somewhat piercing look he occasionally gives Hokuto. It makes Hokuto’s face heat up and skin prickle, and he starts babbling about the pasta and cooking in general, to divert Shintaro’s attention elsewhere.
Despite everything, it’s luckily so easy and comfortable to talk with Shintaro. He chats happily about his cooking endeavours, making Hokuto laugh, and after that the talk soon drifts to work and their recent happenings.
By the time they’re done with the food, the wine bottle is empty and they’ve shared countless thoughts and insights about their upcoming performances and tour details. Hokuto’s feeling nicely fuzzy yet perky, the earlier nervousness now almost completely gone.
”This was the best pasta I’ve ever had, I’m not even kidding,” he says and sighs happily, slumping down in his chair.
”Then this was all worth it!” Shintaro grins. He stands up and picks up the empty wine bottle.
”You want dessert now or a bit later?”
”Hmm, maybe later?”
Instead, Shintaro fetches them a new bottle of wine. Hokuto probably shouldn’t drink anymore, his cheeks are already burning and his head feels light, but he lets Shintaro pour him a little. Their fingers brush when he takes the glass. It’s tantalizing.
Hokuto takes a small sip of the wine and lets out a soft laugh.
”This really feels like a date, you know,” he blurts out. The wine’s making his tongue loose on top of everything else.
Shintaro looks at him and raises his brows, a small smile on his face.
”Yeah? Is that a bad thing?”
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