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[beatemall]

< BadMachine2004 > — normal handle
< KidArachnid > — used for hero work
< Sunflower > — anonymous posting

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Pizza not-date date (cont.) [Closed to Shoyo]

[beatemall]

[Miles is a healthy mix of nervous and excited for two reasons.

One—he always likes hanging out with Shoyo. It's become so normal, the guy swiftly and easily staking claim to the title of "best friend" (and not for a lack of them in Ryslig). Spending time together with another guy his age has felt like a rare boon, something that makes him feel a little less insane here, and he's quickly come to look forward to their jam sessions because, well, Shoyo makes him happy.

But two—he's never shown anyone his room willingly. Not Gwen, nor Peter really, and now he's inviting Shoyo over to listen to his music, read his poetry, and... Well, Miles' bedroom walls aren't exactly discreet. As he gets ready to meet his friend, Miles looks around the space and wonders if that weeks-long obsessive painting will turn the guy off. Not everyone can relax when they're been loomed over by smiling, frozen portraits.

As Miles pulls his own oversized flannel on, he meets the gaze of Gwen specifically. She had responded pretty well to his art, so... Maybe Shoyo will feel the same? As long as the kelpie doesn't flip too many pages in his sketchbook. That would be awkward.

Pushing his thoughts aside, Miles finishes pulling on his clothes, ending up dressed in layers of t-shirt under flannel under Strickler varsity jacket, over a pair of jeans and topped off with his usual jordans. Then he floats his way over to Fat Frank's, showing up just on time to spot Shoyo coming from the other direction.]

Hey—! [Miles calls, waving,] glad you found it okay!

[jumpie]

[ there he was, and with incomparable elation that could only really belong to the one boy his age he felt incredibly attached to (which is why, yes, he’s excited in the first place)— ]

Miles!

[ it’s near impossible to hear him coming when miles floats, but the clear sight of him calling and waving out in the opposite direction has shoyo picking up the steps of his hooves into a little jog, stopping dead to swing his arm for a good hand clap and lean, shoulder to chest! ]

Yeah, I met Max here! [ it was definitely familiar now— he had an entire plate of spaghetti trying to beat her at her own game. he’s about to make another good memory, here: grabbing a pie and high tailing it out of there like two rambunctious toms. ] What’re we taking? I like cheese or anything with meat!

[beatemall]

[Regardless of the lack of it in his chest—that smile, that excited inflection coloring his name in vibrant hues—it all coalesces into a shuddering tightness that claims Miles' not-so-cold, but certainly dead, heart. His smile falters just slightly, turns giddy at the corners, and his feet come to meet the ground just to half-jog towards Shoyo and meet him a little bit sooner.

With the ends of his arms shoved into his jacket's pockets and his hands gesticulating at shoulder height—]

It's my first time, I'd say let's go on your recommendation, but... [His hand zips on by, finding the handle of the shop's door and pulling it open for Shoyo to trot in first.] I'm kind of a pizza guy. [Which is to say, he's from New York and kinda snooty—but not Neopolitani snooty, apparently.] A classic pie should be perfect but uh, hm. How much do you eat? Maybe we should get an extra cheese pie too?

[Miles' appetite isn't what it used to be, but he's sure he can help Shoyo demolish two pizzas.]

[jumpie]

[ it’s in he goes, but shoyo waits just a little ahead of the doorframe for miles to enter along with him, eventually cruising the inside of the place side by side. ]

A lot . . . I even skipped my snack for this!

[ it’s alright to skip on his protein snack and lean meat dinner if he was going to wolf down an entire cheese pie, right? it’s good times like these that don’t have to heed a sports diet (it’s not like he eats pizza every day). shoyo’s ears are sensitive and react to all sorts of sounds within the kitchen, with flips and swerves, but he pays the most direct attention to the scent he has to inhale deep— oh, that’s so good. it fuels his tastebuds and makes his mouth feel utterly wet.

he’s a little bit more serious in tone, but ecstatic in expression when he says, with a touch of impeding doom (for the pizza): ]

Let’s do two.

[beatemall]

[Skipped his—

Miles' hand zips up to cover the laugh that catches him off guard, chokes him, before he can swallow it back down and let his smile say everything. He doesn't doubt that Shoyo burns enough energy to eat several snacks, but to hear something like that... It makes him sound like a proper athlete, and not just his hyperactive best friend.]

Dude, I don't know what kind of snacks you usually have, but we're getting the biggest pies they got, aight?

[Just as pizza is his wheelhouse, Miles saunters up to the ordering counter like he knows the place inside and out, despite it being his first time ordering here. He passes his gaze over the menu briefly, just to make sure this dimension doesn't call a pepperoni pizza anything weird—and then orders them the two pies. One classic, one that's all cheese (with extra too), just for Shoyo. Once Miles forks over his solars and takes the ticket, he'll walk his way over to a booth across from the counter and plop down to wait.]

So, I gotta brief you before we get there but- uh... My room's kinda messy. Hope that doesn't bother you?

[jumpie]

[ they're simple little fuels— fruits, yogurt, protein shakes or nutty bars, even pieces of jerky to give him that little boost before dinner. it's been about two months since he started taking his alternate self's advice, and what do you know . . . he might be getting puffier.

but, come on— paying for all of them, even! as he pipes up a chortle, shoyo can be seen trying to slip some solars into miles' pockets, which eventually translates to getting them two 1 liter glass bottles of cola. are they going to eat and drink that much? no, but— well, maybe. never underestimate the combined boy appetite on a hang-out night. ]

Who's room isn't? [ he only kept his room organized because he had to, for reasons that go foggy when he tries to recall— but he knows it had to do with discipline or something, but his bed is often not really made, or only made halfway, his magazines stack unevenly, and so on. sliding into the spot across from miles, shoyo's hoof gives a clap against the floor and nudges the other's shin like he would bop his elbow into his arm if they were side by side. ] Your messiness is safe with me, dude . . . 'Cuz you have to see me eat.

[ which might be. an experience??? because blackhole shoyo. where does all that pizza Fit. where does it Go.

(they're not even there yet, and— he's giddy, delighted and having fun.) ]

[beatemall]

[Miles laughs, especially recalling what his room looked like after an interdimensional portal messed it up further. In fact, by comparison, he's sure his current room looks way less messy than his room back home.]

Alright, alright... You got a point with that. [He says into his fist, trying to keep himself from laughing any louder and drawing even more attention their way. His other hand zips across the table and gives Shoyo's arm a small punch.] Bro, when you say it like that, it makes me afraid for those pizzas. What do you have in store for them?

[jumpie]

[ miles doesn’t know what he’s doing. giving a kelpie fuel wasn’t a good idea, unless . . . well. unless you want to horse around, and the close proximity, the elation he causes just has shoyo grinning sweetly from ear to ear, snickering—

he’s finally pulled it all together to say something serious. to be serious, one that requires sudden attention and caution. man, something happened. ]

I’m gonna pepperown those guys.

[ the straight face stays. until, after about five full seconds, it breaks. ]

[beatemall]

[Miles doesn't last nearly as long as Shoyo does, with a straight face. In fact, the straight face might be a reason why he breaks with a laugh that nears on barking. If he could cry, surely his eyes would be wet with how he folds over with the sound.]

H-holy shit, [he wheezes, wiping at his eyes out of instinct,] dude you are not allowed to pun, ever again.

[He straightens, clears his throat—]

Otherwise, I might make like a pizza, and pie.

[jumpie]

[ laughing is infectious. punning, now that's a virus. the sound that deflates out of shoyo is like a loose balloon and an equine squeal just as he lowers his head into his flattened arms against the table. the wheeze becomes a full-on, shoulder-trembling laugh because he's got one, he's got one, oh my god— ]

That, that was so crusty, Miles . . . [ snort, ] Cheesus—!