❃❃❃❃

❃𝓘 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓫𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓶❃

❃❃❃❃

__________________________________

Akira stood, amazed, he had never imagined he would ever have friends to go out with, but here he was. 

The mall's atrium buzzed with shifting holographic displays, casting vibrant, floating patterns on polished steel floors as their group split up. Sanji peeled off with a lazy wave, and Eddie, Jake, and Adi headed straight for the gaming store. Ella and Andrea disappeared into a quieter area of the mall, while Marcus and Tayla headed for the clothing section, Huan in tow, his hand firmly around Akira's arm. Sofia, visibly defeated, drifted towards Ella and Andrea with a disappointed expression, I won. Jiamei and Jimin having nothing better to do, tagged along with Huan and Akira.

As they wandered through the wide corridors, holographic mannequins displayed everything from sleek modern designs to updated, traditional attire, the shimmering color mesmerising as Akira stared at them. They eventually ended up in a section where trendy clothing was mixed with traditional touches—trousers bearing ink-style patterns down their sides, jackets with embroidered phoenixes flickering slightly under the lights.

Akira pointed at a pair of trousers with a dramatic painted pattern, giggling he spoke in English, "Look its fancypants," He chuckled at his own pun, glancing sideways at Huan.

Huan barely reacted, his brows knitted, eyes fixed somewhere distant. Akira's amusement faded as he studied Huan's expression. Whatever Huan was thinking about, it was pulling him in deep. Akira decided not to interrupt and simply followed along, occasionally glancing back at Jiamei, who was looking through the clothes.

Huan who was in deep thought seemed to wonder of aimlessly and so Akira followed him like a shadow. They soon found themselves in a quieter, more traditional section of the store, where sleek racks displayed haori and other traditional garments of different cultures. The lighting softened here, casting a warm glow across delicate silks and embroidered patterns. Akira lingered in front of a haori, fingers brushing lightly over the fabric. He could never bring himself to buy something like this, not like he couldn't he was just groomed—it seemed almost forbidden. Growing up, anything personal, anything indulgent, was out reach, that is unless his uncle Akimitsu bought it for him.

Huan drifted into view, scanning the rows of qipao, his gaze hard and distant. It brought back the memory of the long wig from the dorms, of Huan's reaction when he saw it. Gathering a breath, Akira broke the silence.

"Hey... about that wig," he started softly, glancing over at Huan. "I noticed it... bothered you. Why was that?"

Huan's shoulders tensed immediately, his face flickering through emotions he usually kept guarded. He turned, his gaze sharp. "Why are you so curious?" The words came out sharp.

Akira's cheeks reddened, and he shifted slightly, feeling both embarrassed and caught off-guard. "I just..." he hesitated, searching for the right words. "I want to know you better. After all, there's so much I've learned about you already." His tone was sincere, almost pleading, as if hoping Huan would trust him just a little more.

Huan let out a scoff, turning away to run a hand over a dark blue qipao with delicate, silver-white embroidery and long sleeves. "And I don't know thing about you, Akira." he muttered, the bitterness in his voice stung.

Akira winced, unused to hearing this kind of language directed at him, though something about Huan's way of talking had his pulse quickening in an unexpected way. Yet, Akira still lingered beside him, like a little boy waiting for an answer.

There was a long pause before Huan finally spoke, his voice dropping. "It reminded me of my past," he admitted, each word feeling like it had been dragged out of him. "Now stop looking at me like that." He wrinkled his nose at him.

Akira's face reddened again, but tried to compose himself, "I understand. You had to cut your hair... that must mean you're leaving it all behind, right? Maybe you don't need to hold onto it so tightly now." He glanced at Huan, hopeful, his voice warm. "Your past doesn't have to follow you here."

Huan clenched his jaw, his eyes lingering on the blue qipao as he absorbed Akira's words. The look in his eyes darkened. "If I'd really left my past behind," he said bitterly, "the Chen Clan wouldn't still hold me in their shadow. Ignoring me or attacking  me is just another way they control me." Tracing the delicate embroidery on the qipao, his fists tightening around the fabric.

Akira felt his chest ache at Huan's words, and, without thinking, he reached out to ruffle Huan's hair gently, offering a simple, comforting touch. "Maybe that's just them, not you." he murmured. "Maybe it's their choice, not yours, to keep living in the past." He caught Huan's gaze, his tone softening as he motioned to the qipao. "And, for the record... I think this would look great on you."

Huan's eyes widened, color rushing to his cheeks. "Eh! No!" he squeaked, clutching the qipao. "I am not wearing that!"

Akira's face fell, a dramatic pout forming as he looked up at Huan with puppy-dog eyes. "Please? Just try it... for me?"

Huan crossed his arms, one brow quirked. "And what exactly have you done for me that would make me wear this?"

Akira blinked. "Well... saved you that one time... twice, if we count the rooftop incident," he said, counting on his fingers, a grin tugging at his lips. "And I've kept your secret as promised, so... I mean, I'd say I'm worth a qipao try-on. But, you know, if you really don't want to..."

Huan's cheeks puffed slightly in irritation, and with a long-suffering sigh, he snatched the qipao off the rack. "Fine! I guess it won't hurt..." He muttered to himself, "...unlike a hanfu."

Akira perked up instantly, practically bouncing on his feet. "Yay! But wait!" He held up a hand to stop him. "You have to style it right!"

Before Huan could protest, Akira grabbed his wrist and dragged him around the store, weaving in and out of aisles until he found a pair of white trousers and some sturdy, high black boots. "These will be perfect," he said, shoving the pile of clothes into Huan's arms and nudging him toward the dressing room. "Go on, get changed!"

With one last, exasperated look, Huan disappeared behind the curtains, leaving Akira outside, fidgeting in anticipation.

After a few minutes, the curtain rustled, and Huan stepped out, awkwardly adjusting the fabric. The dark blue qipao hugged his frame just enough to highlight his lean build, flowing down with a sleek grace that ended in a slit at each side, revealing his crisp, white trousers tucked into black boots. The deep blue went perfectly with his fair skin. His brown eyes seemed to darken against the qipao's rich color, making him look refined, almost regal. Like a modern cultivator...

Akira's mouth dropped open, staring in stunned silence for a beat too long. "Well... how do you feel?" he asked, swallowing down his initial shock. "Do you like it?"

Huan pressed his lips into a thin line, fidgeting under Akira's gaze as his cheeks grew warm. "It's... not bad, I guess..." he mumbled, eyes darting away.

Akira grinned, catching the hint of approval in Huan's tone. "So you do like it?"

Huan immediately scowled, though his blush deepened. "Well, I'm not buying it! I don't have any money!" he huffed, folding his arms defensively.

Akira laughed softly, his gaze warm as he admired how genuinely good Huan looked. "That's a shame. You look amazing. I would totally–"

"Oh wow!" came a voice from behind, and Jiamei popped up, hands on her hips as she appraised Huan with a playful grin. "You look great, Young Master Jia!"

Huan's jaw clenched, his patience visibly thinning as he glanced back at Jiamei with a look that could've frozen flames.

"Which sect is he from?" Jimin teased, smirking as he took in Huan's appearance.

Huan's expression darkened to a level that suggested he was seconds away from summoning Woliu and clearing the room. "Alright, that's it," he growled. "I'm taking this off." But before he could escape, Marcus and Tayla strolled up.

"Nice drip," Tayla chuckled.

"Man, you look awesome," Marcus added. "Hold up, you're not gonna take pictures?"

Huan's face turned even redder, his brows furrowing as he looked between all of them, ready to snap. Akira, watching them circle around Huan with their compliments and teasing, could hardly contain his amusement. It was rare to see Huan this flustered, and he secretly loved every second.

"Alright, alright, I'll get it for you." Akira held up his hands, laughter bubbling up in his voice as he motioned to the store attendant which was an android. "I'll pay for it. You look too good in it, Huan."

Huan's eyes snapped to him, indignant. "You don't have to do that," he protested, his voice almost pleading. "I don't need this!"

Akira just shook his head, grinning. "It's a gift. You're not about to refuse a gift, are you?"

Huan sputtered, caught off guard, and finally huffed in defeat. With a resigned sigh, he turned on his heel, muttering under his breath as he disappeared into the dressing room. "Fine, whatever. I can't believe this..."

Everyone exchanged glances, smothering laughter, and as Huan struggled with the qipao's buttons behind the curtain, they heard his frustrated shout.

"Shut up, all of you!"

_●°•°•°●_

Huan slouched in the corner of the store, his shoulders tense and his brow furrowed as he kicked the floor in frustration. The vibrant colors of the boutique surrounded him, but all he seemed he could focus on was the lingering embarrassment of trying on the qipao. Akira watched him with a soft smile, holding the bag of clothes. "Do you really not like it?" he asked, his voice light and teasing.

Huan shot him a glare, the heat of his blush betraying his irritation. "I do... but you didn't have to buy it," he huffed, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers.

"It's a gift for how amazing you are," Akira replied, his tone earnest with a warm gleam in his eyes. "You've been through so much, and you even talked back to Chen Zixin at the practice session on the first day. That's really...something."

Huan's blush deepened, but he turned his gaze toward the floor, his eyes clouded. "No. I'm not amazing. I'm everything but amazing."

"You are amazing to me..." Akira said, his words hanging in the air like a gentle breeze.

Huan finally met his gaze. "Can you stop being so nice? You know I'm a disgrace. I was disowned by my father, I got kicked out of my clan. That's not amazing,"

Akira sighed, watching as Huan sank further into his own thoughts, drowning in memories he couldn't seem to escape. "But look at you now," he urged, nudging Huan gently with his elbow. "You have so many people who care about you." He gestured toward the dressing area, where Tayla twirled in a sleek black dress, laughter spilling from her lips like music. Marcus snapped pictures, capturing the moment as their happiness radiated around them, enveloping the space.

Huan's gaze followed Akira's gesture, but his expression remained troubled. "They don't know anything about me..." he murmured.

"They don't have to," Akira insisted firmly, meeting Huan's downcast eyes. "Your past doesn't define you. You're not the mistakes you made."

"But..." Huan leaned against the wall, his forehead resting against his arm. "Sometimes I don't know what to feel."

Akira stepped closer, leaning beside him, the warmth of their shared space felt comforting. "I know what you mean." He thought back to Muichiro, the day he lost his friend. His grandfather had praised him for his strength, but what was he supposed to feel? Should he embrace the praise, or should he drown in the sorrow of loss? The answer was clear, but the tears remained trapped behind his eyes, too fragile to spill in front of his grandparents. It felt unfair, really unfair.

Just as Huan was expected to wear his pain like armor, Akira realized that he, too, could not allow himself the freedom to feel whatever emotions roiled within.

"Life isn't fair," Akira murmured, glancing sideways at Huan, who stood stiffly beside him. "But you don't have to shoulder it alone. You're not a disgrace. You're...you."

Huan closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply, letting the tension ease, if only just a little. Slowly, he rubbed his face with his hands, pressing his fingers into his temples as he released a long, tired sigh.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, a reluctant warmth creeping into his voice. "You're starting to sound like YanMing," he muttered, shaking his head as if trying to brush off the weight of the moment.

Akira chuckled softly, his smile reaching his eyes. There was a quiet hope in his gaze as he watched Huan—a hope that, maybe, one day, Huan would truly let go of his past, letting it drift like dust from his shoulders. Even if it would take time, Akira was prepared to stay right beside him, ready to remind Huan of the strength he saw in him.

I will always be with him...

__________________________________