Let's continue with:
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The Himura family mansion hadn't changed much—still grand, still glowing with chandeliers, and still full of people who dressed like they were auditioning for a soap opera.
Ken adjusted his collar uncomfortably as he stepped into the ballroom.
He hadn't visited in a long time. Not since he moved out two years ago into his own small apartment near campus. He was twenty now—still polite, still gentle—but taller, sharper in the jaw, a little broader in the shoulders. His baby face had matured, but his eyes hadn't lost that soft glow.
Aunt Himura spotted him first and waved him over with her usual maternal affection.
"Oh Ken! You've grown even more handsome," she gushed, holding his face.
"Thank you, Auntie," he smiled. "How have you been?"
"Oh, tired of this crowd. Arashi was supposed to come, but who knows with that boy."
Ken's smile wavered for a second. He hadn't heard that name in five years.
They didn't stay in touch. No texts. No calls. Arashi had left the city the second he graduated high school—college in another state, supposedly to "get space." Ken didn't care. Or told himself he didn't.
But as he sipped his mocktail and tried to blend in, the ballroom door creaked open.
And there he was.
Arashi.
Older. Taller. Sharper.
Wearing a black shirt under a half-unbuttoned blazer, silver rings on his fingers, and that same arrogant swagger that made the floor feel like his.
His jaw was leaner, his eyes more hooded, and his expression unreadable as he scanned the room—until it stopped on Ken.
Ken looked away instantly.
His heart was doing something weird. Like it skipped a beat and then doubled back to catch up.
Arashi walked toward him slowly, confidently, like a predator who hadn't seen his favorite chew toy in years.
"Well, well," Arashi said, voice rougher, deeper. "If it isn't my old roommate."
Ken forced a smirk. "You haven't changed. Still overdressed and under-brained."
Arashi laughed, actually laughed. "Still sharp-tongued. Cute."
"You're drunk, aren't you?"
"Maybe."
"I'm not carrying you this time."
Arashi took another step closer. "Then I'll just lean on you."
And before Ken could move, Arashi slung one heavy arm over his shoulders. The scent of cologne, smoke, and something expensive hit Ken like a wave. His chest tightened.
"Still small," Arashi muttered, looking down at him.
Ken elbowed him in the ribs. "Still annoying."
But he didn't shove him off.
Not yet.
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