Take Me With You ✓

11 ; euphoria

Adrien's POV

They've hardly been walking when he feels warmth around his right hand. He lets it be. What's the harm in it?

"So, what exactly are we planning on doing?" He says as they enter the mall. Finally, she looks him in the eye, and there are undeniable similarities between her and a goddess.

This is what he wants, seeing her out and about and being her free-willed self.

"We only have a few hours, so we better start shopping."

"I have an idea. Let's pick clothes for each other. If I liked what you picked, you win, and vice versa. I'll meet you back here," she says, pulling him towards the entrance of H&M.

He can only watch as she disappears into the store. Okay, maybe he is the son of a very wealthy fashion designer and has his face in almost every corner of Paris, but he's also human. Chances are, he'll get lost in it, but ignore that.

She trusts that he'll find her clothes that would look good-beautiful-on her, and he will.

It only takes a few turns for him to get to the women's wear section, considering maybe they thought women would highly appreciate not getting lost in this labyrinth.

He goes through rack after rack, eventually choosing a navy-blue cotton straight dress with ribbon straps, then a cream-colored knee-length trench coat. It doesn't take him long to pick out another outfit: a simple white dress with ruffles for the design.

Skimming through the clothes, he hasn't at all expected to see her in the women's section. She's purely intrigued by what she can't even take her eyes off, not even noticing his presence despite already being right beside her.

It's an off-shoulder dress, the color of beetroots and decorated by detailed sunflowers. He can tell she has great style.

"Aren't you going to get that? I'm sure you'd look beautiful in it." If he scared the devil out of her, she doesn't act like it.

She turns, and as if he pressed the button that would end the earth, she sports a look before running her hands through her hair.

"No! How are you already done?"

"I'm not," he says, taking the dress off its hanger and placing it into his basket.

"It's really fine. I'll help you pick out my clothes." He says, walking ahead.

"So, I win?" He says when she catches up.

"Since you're helping me pick out your clothes, I guess, yeah." She says, sighing as she leaves the two shirts she has on the nearest rack.

"I'm a fashion designer who doesn't know how to dress a man."

"This looks nice. We'll just find a jacket." He takes the cream beige sweatshirt from the rack before grabbing a black winter coat with a faux fur collar.

"Maybe add this scarf," and she grabs the baby blue scarf from the nearby mannequin, wrapping it around his neck. When he looks at her, he swears those eyes hold the universe.

"It's only November."

"Who cares?"

"Why don't you try this out now? But I'm sure it already looks perfect on you," he says, taking the dress from the basket and handing it to her. He's falling like the stars, and he can love her till the sun dies.

"Why not?" So, they go to the dressing room, and he waits. When she comes out, she has her hair loose, spinning around like a little child.

She loves all the outfits he chose, so he does win. She doesn't stop herself from chuckling.

She grabs the navy-blue blouson jacket sitting on a rack on the way to the paying counter and a pair of khaki-colored sneakers, which reminds him to get her a pair of sandals.

"I forgot to get you some sandals," he whispers before walking away.

"Not too high." She yells in the direction he went, so he settles for the gray-green flat sandals with a ribbon as the adjustable strap.

"Wow, it would take me hours to choose a pair, and you just grabbed something I immediately like," she says, putting them on, and they fit her perfectly.

They walk to the grocery after that.

"Maybe we should just grab dinner." He says, staring at the fridge and unable to decide on which drink to buy.

"Just buy another Minute Maid."

"Can you open it?" She drops it before he can get a hold of it.

"I'm so clumsy," and he chuckles, grabbing the bottle, and opening it for her.

"So, dinner?"

That's how they end up in the food court because seriously speaking, the food sold there – cooked in front of you – is so much better than those from fast food chains. Thankfully, it's not too full.

She orders fried rice with a chicken breast and citrus broth, while he has shrimp and vegetable fried noodles with an egg on top.

"Let's watch a movie. It's still early," he says, cleaning up.

"Darling, this is not a date," she says before leaving him starstruck to throw away their trash.

Still, they watch. The Gentlemen was more than amazing, with plot twists here and there only intensifying the thrill, which must be why his father's assistant recommended it.

"Why would Alya pray for more years for you?" He asks. The thought keeps on coming back, and he guesses it's one of those things that will keep him restless if he doesn't say anything. He feels his heart quicken as she stills.

"Why? Can't someone wish their best friend more years to live?" She says, looking back at him skeptically.

He doesn't respond, so she just nudges his arm with her shoulder, "You're crazy."

Before they enter the hospital, she pulls him aside, kissing him on the cheek.

"Thank you," with that, she disappears with the wind, while he can't even remove his hand from his cheek.