makoto’s gaze softens, and his mouth forms a thin, tight line. nagging questions spring to mind, of course—that he knows that kazuya has plenty of friends, so why is it that he jumped to mind when the new king of the casino considered who he might entertain in his new suite? but he is at the very least self-aware enough to know that these are insecurities taking up space within his mind, clamoring distractingly amidst more orderly thoughts. there might always be a small, vulnerable part of him that would ring the alarm to mistrust every extension of kindness, to doubt the sincerity of any help or consideration given to him, because it had been hurt and betrayed and damaged enough times to break along those lines. no, it’s more about… knowing when to listen to that voice and when to knowingly set it aside. if he has to fear all of with kazuya, then who else is there for him to learn to trust here?
fortunately for makoto, kazuya leads the way to the kitchen swiftly enough that he doesn’t run the risk of toppling helplessly into the abyss of sentimentality. there would likely be more time for that later.
what he might have expected was far less grandiose than what awaited him. he isn’t sure what he might have thought kazuya would prepare for him—the careful construction of all of the home-made elements of a bento, perhaps, or tonkatsu or grilled fish… well, he did make tonkatsu, but he also put together what looks like a full spread, something that wouldn’t be out-of-place even in red cardinal. makoto’s eyes are wide as he absorbs all of it; it takes all of the scraps of his remaining composure to keep his mouth from falling ajar. )
You— …wow. You didn’t have to make all of this, but, ( and he looks at his friend, already anticipating the bright expectation he would see there, so he continues, ) I’m glad you did. Thank you… even if it is a little much. You think just the two of us are going to be able to eat through all of this?
( u kno… just light teasing… it’s fine. he does his best to find an unobtrusive spot in the dining area to set his bag down, checking with kazuya for affirmation before moving to where the food is, excited to sample all of the dishes. )
no subject
makoto’s gaze softens, and his mouth forms a thin, tight line. nagging questions spring to mind, of course—that he knows that kazuya has plenty of friends, so why is it that he jumped to mind when the new king of the casino considered who he might entertain in his new suite? but he is at the very least self-aware enough to know that these are insecurities taking up space within his mind, clamoring distractingly amidst more orderly thoughts. there might always be a small, vulnerable part of him that would ring the alarm to mistrust every extension of kindness, to doubt the sincerity of any help or consideration given to him, because it had been hurt and betrayed and damaged enough times to break along those lines. no, it’s more about… knowing when to listen to that voice and when to knowingly set it aside. if he has to fear all of with kazuya, then who else is there for him to learn to trust here?
fortunately for makoto, kazuya leads the way to the kitchen swiftly enough that he doesn’t run the risk of toppling helplessly into the abyss of sentimentality. there would likely be more time for that later.
what he might have expected was far less grandiose than what awaited him. he isn’t sure what he might have thought kazuya would prepare for him—the careful construction of all of the home-made elements of a bento, perhaps, or tonkatsu or grilled fish… well, he did make tonkatsu, but he also put together what looks like a full spread, something that wouldn’t be out-of-place even in red cardinal. makoto’s eyes are wide as he absorbs all of it; it takes all of the scraps of his remaining composure to keep his mouth from falling ajar. )
You— …wow. You didn’t have to make all of this, but, ( and he looks at his friend, already anticipating the bright expectation he would see there, so he continues, ) I’m glad you did. Thank you… even if it is a little much. You think just the two of us are going to be able to eat through all of this?
( u kno… just light teasing… it’s fine. he does his best to find an unobtrusive spot in the dining area to set his bag down, checking with kazuya for affirmation before moving to where the food is, excited to sample all of the dishes. )
You say a demon helped you with all of this?