you know he's pissed, really pissed. but he's masking his anger with deceiving smiles like usual. you unceremoniously threw the drumsticks beside your drum set as the show finished—screams and chanting drowning the noise but suguru never failed to hear your aggressive movements. once back stage—he grabs you by the wrist and dragged you towards a room that seemed to be a make-up station for artists

"what the hell was that? you're not trying to disobey me, aren't you dear?" he grits out