The clatter of chopsticks, the hiss of boiling broth, and the low murmur of late-afternoon customers filled the little ramen shop with a warmth that clung to the windows.Sunlight filtered through the bamboo blinds, painting golden slashes across the counter where Ryunosuke and William sat side by side.
William slurped his noodles with zero shame, head tilted back slightly. "I'm telling you, man. Best spicy miso in the whole city. You can't even argue. You just have to feel it."
Ryunosuke twirled his chopsticks slowly, watching the steam rise from his bowl.
"I'm pretty sure you say that about every place we go."
"Because I'm always right," William grinned. "This place? Spicy miso perfection. Last week's spot? Tonkotsu that could bring a grown man to tears. The one in Little Tokyo? The broth was so good I almost proposed to the chef."
"You say that like you haven't already proposed to three different baristas."
"I'm not picky with my love," William said, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. "Just deeply committed to flavor."
Ryunosuke let out a soft chuckle and took a bite. The broth was rich, layered—comforting.Familiar.The kind of food that filled you in more ways than one.
For a moment, it felt good to be here.To pretend nothing was off.To ignore the sketches he didn't remember drawing.To forget the silence that followed his mother's reaction to one unfamiliar name.
William glanced over, mid-bite. "You've been really in your head lately."
Ryunosuke froze—just a second.
"I'm fine."
William raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Classic 'I'm fine' tone. You know I've known you since you were twelve, right? That voice means: 'I'm spiraling but I don't want anyone to know I'm spiraling.'"
Ryunosuke stared at his bowl. "I'm not spiraling."
"I never said you were," William said, casually poking his noodles. "But if you were, hypothetically… you'd talk to someone, yeah?"
Ryunosuke paused.
Then gave a quiet nod. "Yeah. I would."
William didn't press.
He just smiled and said, "Cool. Because if you don't, I'll assume you're writing moody poetry, and I will ask you to read it aloud at parties."
Ryunosuke smirked. "That's low."
"That's love," William corrected, lifting his bowl in a mock toast.
They ate quietly after that, surrounded by strangers' chatter and the steady bubbling of the kitchen behind them.
It wasn't much.
But it helped.