❝ hey! um — i know this is... really late, but i wanted to thank you for helping me out a few weeks ago. ❞ it's not often that — well, in truth, chiaki isn't sure if anyone's ever stood up for her when people got weird and obsessive. it means more to her than she knows how to express in words. ergo, the little folded square of bronze-gold silk that she presses into his hands — along with a small, orange coin purse embroidered with a complex and intricate pattern: yellow, green, blue, purple, pink, red. all the colors of a sunset, detailed into flowers and feathers and filigree. it's attached to a chain, able to be clipped to a larger bag or even a key ring.
❝ the thing underneath is a pillowcase. silk is best for your hair and face, you know! it's naturally antibacterial and it doesn't cause any friction that might break your hair strands. um, anyway... i hope you like them. it's kind of hard to find a place to put coins sometimes, so—! um... seriously, thank you. i hope it helps to convey how much i appreciate your friendship. ❞
there’s a fine line between admiration and obsession, and xia fei has come to learn that some people outright refuse to see the distinction; what they give the public is what the public expects: polished, people-pleasing versions of themselves on the day-to-day, in person as much as online, at events where cameras flash like lightning across a clear blue sky. fine-cut gems for their eyes alone. though he can attest to his own experience, he is aware of the undercurrent of disgusting behaviour endured in silence by his counterparts. chiaki is a walking example. to help her was no courtesy or a privilege reserved only for those he knew - it was simply his refusal to condemn someone to indignity. there are far too many who can't comprehend basic respect - this is no surprise to him.
rival agency or not, he wouldn’t leave her to face that filth alone. even a personality as strong as hers, can creak and splinter and crack under pressure. with him around, that sort of breaking won’t happen.
so, what does capture his surprise is what’s given to him.
in his palm, the fabrics he holds feel as soft as cloud - embroidered with motifs pulled right from their natural world. this fine stitching is so precise, patient in its detail, it can only belong to someone skilled enough to make such art from thread alone. the colours remind him of the bold, striking wash of a summer sunset. warm and vivid, alive even in this stillness. the pouch attached to a clean silver chain. the practicality of it all hardly registers at first. he feels something crafted so beautiful, shouldn’t be used so casually - almost believing it shouldn't be used at all. but it might be seen as a disservice to its generous maker only to preserve their craftsmanship, he nearly tells himself.
his expression softened ages ago, understanding now how far she went to thank him for what he considers necessary in the moment. the most he can give in exchange, is a smile that comes from somewhere sincere, something unforced. something that is reserved for some people in his life. “ you know it was no sweat on me, i feel like you’re giving me too much credit. ”
a short chuckle follows at the heels of his words, his eyes crinkling as he refolds the pillowcase back in a neat and tidy square, careful as if tucking in a little sliver of sunlight on his person. he slips that and the coin purse into his most secure pocket. “ thank you, too. i probably should be taking better care of my hair and face when i go to bed. ”
“ you know… ” he adds, guiding her forward to walk with him, his tone light to keep the warmth from fading. “ -you never told me you could make these. what other skills are you hiding from me? ” he had no interest in ending their interaction so soon.
