Fashion was a risky business.

It was arguable that any business was, but Fashion with a capital letter was more so.

It relied upon the expertise of the creator, the designer who had vision, enough to not only provide something eye-catching and innovative, but an item of clothing that appealed to the masses. Alright, the majority of them probably couldn't afford one of his designs, but Lan Zhan was usually confident in whatever his hand drew.

Fashion was the epitome of art, and his art sold well. The degrees in said subject, sitting in an office drawer somewhere, were the stamp of approval for any doubters, including his uncle, a stickler for rules and the draconian beliefs that they needed to be adhered to. Lan Zhan had believed it too until he had met a red ribboned genius who could produce a whole collection in two weeks, the talent who had taken the fashion world by storm.

If Lan Zhan was honest, and he always was with himself, Wei Ying was probably ninety percent the reason why he had stayed in university. They had met in high school and it had been a rocky start until one day, they both had caught a younger boy being bullied by Wen Chao and his cronies.

Wen Ning had a stutter, so it was already harder for him, but he was a gentle giant, and Wei Ying  referred to him as a cinnamon roll. After that day, Wei Ying had taken him under his wing and no one had bothered going after him from there on. His sister, Wen Qing was a formidable woman, very protective over her real brother and then somehow, she'd adopted Wei Ying as another one.

Lan Zhan had seen two boys standing up to seven, and couldn't tolerate something so unfair.

When he had walked towards the group that day, Wen Chao had mistakenly assumed he was going to be on their side. Crowing right up until he went to stand next to Wei Ying, close so that Wen Ning was protected. The look on his face was priceless, and he could feel the other two people staring at him too.

But undaunted, he stood tall, thinking about whether he could take all seven on by himself, because the young boy next to him seemed too slim, too weak and other than bravery, he didn't seem to have much else.

"I can smell something..." Wei Ying had said, completely seriously.

Some of the seven started sniffing the air already.

"I thought it was because we were standing so close to the toilets, but no..." Wei Ying deadpanned. "It's definitely reeking of cowardice." He folded his arms across his chest and looked pointedly at Wen Chao.

"Why, you cheeky little gutter rat!" Wen Chao went to punch him, but Lan Zhan caught his fist in one hand and squeezed.

Tighter and tighter until Wen Chao was all red, gasping at the pain, still in shock at the sharp crack as one of his knuckles broke.

He screamed, and Lan Zhan let go, his face devoid of any emotion.

Wen Chao fell on the ground, still screaming and catching the attention of a few teachers; his friends ran away and Wei Ying discreetly kicked him.

"What happened here?" Mrs Jones asked sternly, and Lan Zhan remembered wanting to tell the truth.

But Wei Ying had put a hand on his arm, and looked at him.

After that, Lan Zhan didn't remember too much, there was something about Wen Chao catching his hand in the door of the girl's toilets, Wei Ying had emphasized that part, and an ambulance had come to take the injured boy away.

But Lan Zhan had fallen in love in that one second. Those beautiful silver eyes had looked into his soul, and a small part of Lan Zhan knew he would never love anybody else, ever again.

Wei Ying had stuck his hand out.

"I'm Wei WuXian, but you can call me Wei Ying. That's Wen Ning." He had thumbed behind himself.

Wen Ning had smiled gently, his appreciation solidified by his loyalty after that.

"Lan Zhan." He had murmured, still not sure until this day, what had made him give his birth name.

Perhaps it was because of the casual way Wei Ying had slung his arm over Lan Zhan's broad shoulders, beaming up at him.

"You're so strong, Lan Zhan! And you came just at the right time. Not that I couldn't have taken them on, I mean, I had Wen Ning, and all."

It was a blustery lie, made all the more charming by the twinkle in those sparkling eyes, full of mischief.

"I was scared." Lan Zhan said, playing along.

Wei Ying stared at him for a full thirty seconds before laughing out loud, clutching his belly.

"God, you're funny."

No one had ever called him funny before.

After that, the three of them had become inseparable. Lan Zhan was not sure how it happened, but wherever he was, Wei Ying always managed to find him, and
Wen Ning was always with him. In the last few months of high school, the Wens had moved away, and that just left Wei Ying and Lan Zhan together.

In Lan Zhan's mind, up to that point in his life, the best six months ever.

Of course, he hadn't quite realized what it was, this feeling in the middle of his chest, or the fluttering in his stomach every time those silver eyes rested upon his face, not until they moved in together when they ended up going to Uni.

Wei Ying had secured a scholarship for FIT (Fashion Institute of Technology, New York) and for Lan Zhan, a small matter of switching schools so they could be together. Of course, Wei Ying had no idea he had done such a thing, and Lan Zhan was reluctant to explain.

As it was, he hadn't even told Wei Ying that when Uni was finished, he would join with his family's business, the prestigious House of Lan. The fashion industry was currently under their influential thumb so to speak, with new collections coming out every few months.

Lan Qiren had built the business up with his brother, Lan Qingheng-Jun, from a tiny store on the high street. Their fame had spread when one day, Lan Qiren had accidentally left a safety pin in a dress, and critics had called it bold, and ground-breaking.

They never looked back.

Now, no red carpet event happened without at least six of their creations gracing them, something his family had worked hard to ensure.

He and Wei Ying studied hard. During those four years, they worked together, both on their separate collections and if the other needed a hand, they would advise, stitch and critique, anything that was necessary.

Late nights, splitting pizza and beer, though they'd found out early on that Pepsi was as strong a beverage that Lan Zhan could take, sewing, sewing, sewing.

They both passed with flying colours, and Lan Zhan was ecstatic, because Wei Ying had agreed to come and work with him at House of Lan.

Everything was going so well, their next collection was in the works when it happened.

Patterns, designs and sketches were leaked, and unfortunately for all concerned, it was linked to Wei Ying's laptop.

That horrible day, Lan Zhan had to stand aside and let Wei Ying be fired, his uncle tearing into him like no tomorrow. He threatened to blacklist Wei Ying, which was a step too far in Lan Zhan's book, but he was powerless to defend his friend because of the evidence.

He had been away that day, when Wei Ying had called him.

"I didn't do it."

Just four words on a voice message, because Lan Zhan had been travelling on the metro and had no idea what had happened.

When he got home, fully expecting Wei Ying to be there, he found an empty apartment, and no Wei Ying.

He had taken everything he owned, which to be fair, wasn't a lot in the first place, not even leaving a note to explain.

Lan Zhan was heartbroken.

He searched all over town for Wei Ying, but no luck. Even his brother couldn't help, his purple eyes shimmering with mistrust.

But Wei Ying had disappeared.

Right in the middle of preparations for the winter collection.

So Lan Zhan had to abandon the search, but his gut told him Wei Ying wasn't a liar, that someone else had leaked their designs. And now he had only two weeks left to create a whole new runway of clothes, completely starting from scratch.

Those sleepless nights, while he yearned for that solid companionship, that presence he had come to rely upon, Wei Ying was missing and his workload had tripled over night.

He had promised himself he would look for him once things were less chaotic, and the fashion show was over.

That time never came.

A once in a lifetime opportunity rose, a result of his spectacular success, his designs winning awards as the fashion world bowed to his talent. A Japanese designer contacted him with a chance to study different techniques, but he only had a six month window.

Uncle Qiren packed him on a plane without asking twice.

Lan Zhan ended up staying for the full six months. His mind learned but his heart was all the way back in New York, with the terrible realisation that he should have confessed.

Maybe it would have changed things, maybe Wei Ying would have stayed with him. Lan Zhan was convinced that things would have been different.

So much so, he swore to himself that if he ever found Wei Ying again, he would not hesitate to tell him how he felt.

Those six months turned into twelve as other designers were anxious to work with him, and talent was shared.

But Lan Zhan missed the quick eye, the sharp wit, and eager fingers of the genius who had stolen his heart forever.

*******

Right now, he was wandering around New York city, Jackson Heights to be exact, trying to find inspiration.

That time, three years ago, Lan Zhan had not understood what his uncle had done. In an attempt to keep his mind off his roommate and partner, Uncle Qiren had shoved him first to Japan for a year, followed by China and then France, the home of Haute couture.

Lan Zhan learned so much in that year, putting out four season collections in record time, all the while wondering if he would ever see Wei Ying again.

He learned how to create style without a mock-up first, size a model without measuring, how to distress fabric, change the way it looked, felt and draped. He learned to make the fabric sing to him, to make it do what he wanted instead of the other way around.

Techniques for dyeing, printing and scoring were learned, he adapted old school methods for screen printing, and then Lan Zhan went on to do yet another course in embroidery.

Tapestry, bead work, Ari work, and zardozi, Lan Zhan was excelling in leaps and bounds. Every item he designed, selling for thousands, the replicas making and re-making more money, and then celebrities began demanding his talent.

Lan Zhan worked through it all; the punk revolution, the sixties flower power comeback, the fifties and those ostentatious skirts, through the glam of the eighties, and the zero culture of the nineties. His inspiration was everywhere, from cheap adverts and newspapers, to watching models on other collections. He began to study what the other houses were trying to sell and why they weren't successful.

His mind became a database for designs, and his actual designs became more geometrical, angular and precise. Sharp lines and sharper cutting, until many of his designs became shop floor fodder.

The next winter collection was just around the corner and he wasn't....Lan Zhan wasn't prepared.

This was worse than the first time Wei Ying left him.

That time, Lan Zhan could still work, he had designs that were tweakable, modified so that they just worked, enough for them to scrape through that last season...but this year...

Lan Zhan had lost his mojo.

His heart just wasn't in it anymore. He felt tired, was tired, the weariness in his bones extending to his fingertips until they refused to draw, refused to create, to come up with his normal magic.

To come up with something.

He wanted a break.

Lan Zhan was feeling more and more like a mouse on a wheel, running and running but only in circles. Getting nowhere.

The music was the same, the fabrics were the same, his office was the same.

Same, same, same.

He knew what was missing too, or rather, who was missing.

Unknown to his brother, XiChen, or his uncle, Lan Zhan was still looking for his Wei Ying. He had hired one detective after another, refusing to believe in their failure.

Wei Ying was somewhere, he just had to be found.

********

November hit hard with early snow. The first day was lovely.

Lan Zhan looked out of his apartment, the same one he had shared with his Wei Ying, and watched the slow descent of the falling flakes, wishing he did not feel so alone.

Thanksgiving was on the following Thursday and his uncle was hosting a dinner at the Plaza hotel.

Mandatory attendance for all employees, no getting out of it.

Lan Zhan hated public events. XiChen used to laugh, saying they were in the wrong business for someone as shy as himself. But Lan Zhan found it hard to cope with too many people around, and that was yet another reason why his partnership with Wei Ying worked so well.

Wei Ying was a natural people magnet. He could charm and entice with no trouble at all, and by the time an investor had left the conversation, they were thanking him, instead of the other way around.

People flocked to their doors, eager at the chance to take part, the publicity too great a promise for collaboration.

When Wei Ying and he were the top designers at House of Lan, they were raking in the money.

Wei Ying was the face of their team work. Happy to chat to reporters and celebrities alike, all
with that cheeky smile, those twinkling eyes and that perfect smile, Lan Zhan was falling deeper and deeper in love.

Wei Ying understood him on another level.

He knew Lan Zhan's difficulty with strangers, how he liked to listen to classical music while he worked, but could switch it up with a little rock music now and then, how he hated coffee but could drink green tea by the gallon, how hard he worked and what magic they could create together.

Their skills played off each other, until they didn't know who created what, and it was easier to just say they both did it.

As each snowflake fell upon his face, he imagined each one to be a kiss from the universe, each one giving him hope.

He was definitely going to find his Wei Ying today.

*******

Inspiration was harder to find than he thought. Lan Zhan had spent most of the day traipsing through sodden streets with snow and sludge, fresh and grimy, piled high along the sidewalks.

Some of the windows were cheery with festive lights, everyone getting ready for the holidays. The tinsel and fairy lights did nothing for his gradually souring mood. He walked in and out of every single fabric shop, feeling more and more down, until he wore a permanent frown.

By three in the afternoon, his feet were protesting, and he stopped by a little coffee shop. On a whim, he decided to forgo his normal green tea with jasmine and orange blossom, for hot chocolate.

With marshmallows.

Only because he missed Wei Ying so much right now.

When it was so cold, he remembered Wei Ying sticking his hands in Lan Zhan's pockets, trying to keep warm. They used to watch movies together on the rarest occasions, huddled up under a blanket.

Right now, he was sitting in the window of the coffee shop, watching people passing by.

And then suddenly, his eyes rested upon a dress in the window, in the shop across the street.

His drink forgotten, Lan Zhan got up and walked out. His attention was on that dress and only on that dress.

There was something familiar about it.

Not the material, not the stitching, but something.

He recognized that...that something, the something that only Wei Ying had.

He looked up to see the name on the board.

Wing Fabrics.