Side Story (2) - Chapter 3
The market was alive with color and sound, a welcome burst of energy against the dark winter sky. Strings of lights hung from every stall, twinkling like stars as they lit up the bustling street. Raxian wandered through the crowd, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, the warmth from the nearby vendors' grills mingling with the crisp chill of the evening air.
He wasn't alone—two of his buddies from school had tagged along, turning what could have been a solo shopping trip into an excuse to catch up outside of their usual haunts. The three of them moved together through the throngs of people, pausing now and then to check out a stand selling handmade scarves or to grab a hot drink from a food truck.
"Hey, Raxian," one of them called out, nudging his shoulder. "You ever figure out what you're getting for your little niece and nephew?"
Raxian smirked, adjusting the beanie on his head as he glanced over at a stall filled with toys. "Not yet. They're picky little brats," he joked, but there was a fondness in his voice. "But I'll know it when I see it."
His friend laughed, taking a sip from his steaming cup of hot cocoa. "Well, you better hurry up, man. They're counting on their cool older bro to come through."
Raxian rolled his eyes but didn't bother denying it. His niece and nephew always lit up when he visited, treating him like the fun older brother who'd bring them something special. It was a role he secretly loved playing, even if he kept it under wraps with his usual aloofness.
As they moved deeper into the market, weaving between families and couples browsing the stalls, Raxian's thoughts drifted back to the gifts he needed to find. There was a lot more to think about this year—people who mattered in ways he hadn't considered before.
They passed by a record shop, its front window covered in a thin layer of frost. Raxian's eyes caught on the display—a stack of vintage vinyls, the kind that might have something Raze would appreciate. He paused, glancing back at his friends. "Hey, I'm gonna check this place out real quick. Meet you by the food stalls?"
They waved him off, disappearing into the crowd, and Raxian slipped inside the store. The warmth hit him immediately, a welcome change from the cold outside. He browsed through the shelves, running his fingers over the spines of old albums until he found one that made him stop.
It was a band he and Raze used to listen to, back when they'd play games for hours, the music blaring in the background as they climbed the ranks together. He smiled to himself, knowing that Raze wouldn't have asked for this, but he'd appreciate the thought behind it. It felt right—like a small way to say, Hey, I haven't forgotten the times we had.
Raxian adjusted the bag holding the record and made his way back out into the cold, where the bustling market greeted him once more. His friends were still by the food stalls, debating which dessert to try next. He joined them, glancing around the rows of stands, his mind turning to the other people on his list.
Fayne's gift wasn't too complicated—she'd always liked small, meaningful trinkets. He figured a charm that matched her interests would be a nice gesture, something she could carry with her as a reminder that he appreciated her, even if they hadn't been as close lately.
But it was Sable's gift that gave him the most pause. He thought back to the keychain he'd seen earlier—a sleek, metal design that could be engraved with a few words. He just needed to figure out the right phrase, the one that would capture everything he hadn't quite found the courage to say yet.
He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, feeling the weight of the decision. It wasn't just about the gift—it was about what it meant. And for the first time, he found himself wanting to get it right, to give her something that truly reflected what she meant to him.
The market lights glowed against the darkening sky, and Raxian took a deep breath, letting the festive air fill his lungs. Maybe this shopping trip wasn't so bad after all—if it helped him realize what he really wanted to say.
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As he turned away from the stall, a familiar voice called out, cutting through the murmur of the crowd. "Well, well, look who decided to join the holiday spirit."
Raxian froze for a moment, tightening his grip on the shopping bag in his hand, where the vinyl he'd just bought for Raze was tucked away. He turned to see Raze strolling up with a grin, flanked by a couple of older guys Raxian vaguely recognized—probably Raze's friends from school. They looked out of place in the sea of teens and families crowding the market, but Raze didn't seem to mind, waving casually as he approached.
"Hey, Raze," Raxian replied, trying to keep his tone light while subtly shifting the bag behind his leg. "Didn't think you'd be out here shopping too."
Raze shrugged, glancing around at the market stalls. "Figured I'd pick up a few things. Besides, these guys thought it'd be fun." He gestured to his friends, who offered nods and smiles. "And look at you, Rax. Didn't peg you for a festive shopper."
Raxian chuckled, hoping Raze wouldn't notice the slight tension in his voice. "Yeah, well, gotta get stuff done before it's too late, right? Just trying to avoid that last-minute rush."
One of Raxian's school friends caught up with him, carrying a paper bag stuffed with gifts. He looked between Raxian and Raze, raising an eyebrow. "Who's this, Rax?"
Raxian quickly introduced Raze, trying to brush off the awkwardness. "He's an old friend. We've played a lot of games together."
Raze smirked, giving Raxian a friendly nudge. "Yeah, we've spent more time yelling at screens than I care to admit."
The two groups mingled together, blending in with the festive crowd. Raze's friends and Raxian's buddies found common ground over holiday treats and goofy conversation, making their way through the stalls as one larger group. Raxian kept his bag close, trying to keep it out of Raze's line of sight. The last thing he wanted was for Raze to catch a glimpse of the record before he had a chance to give it to him.
Raze, oblivious to Raxian's slight nervousness, browsed the stalls with enthusiasm, making quips about the more over-the-top holiday decorations and jokingly considering getting a reindeer hat for Raxian. Despite himself, Raxian felt a smile tugging at his lips, caught up in the unexpected fun of the evening.
At one point, they stopped at a stall selling warm spiced cider. Raxian took the opportunity to excuse himself for a moment, slipping behind one of the vendor tents where he could take a breath. He adjusted the bag, making sure the vinyl was safely tucked inside.
He thought back to all those nights when he and Raze had gamed together, the music blaring in the background as they strategized and joked through win after win. The record felt like a small way to show Raze that he hadn't forgotten those times—how much they meant, even if he'd never say it outright.
A voice pulled him from his thoughts. "You coming, or are you planning to freeze back here?"
Raxian looked up, finding Raze standing at the corner of the stall, holding out a steaming cup of cider. His expression softened, more curious than teasing. Raxian quickly clutched the bag a little tighter, taking the cup with a nod of thanks.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Just... thinking," Raxian muttered, avoiding Raze's gaze.
Raze didn't push, just handed over the drink with a knowing smile. "Thinking, huh? Must be something serious if it's got you sneaking off behind cider stalls. Hope it's not about the game."
Raxian forced a laugh, but there was a hint of honesty when he replied. "Nah. Just... other stuff."
Raze studied him for a moment, but then he clapped a hand on Raxian's back. "Take your time, kid. Whatever it is, you'll figure it out."
They rejoined the group, the market lights glowing around them like constellations against the night. As they walked, Raxian felt the weight of the vinyl in his bag, lighter now somehow, like he'd taken a small step toward showing Raze what their time together meant.
And as they laughed and talked, surrounded by the warmth of the bustling market, he realized that maybe, just maybe, the gift wasn't just about nostalgia—it was about showing that some things never really changed, no matter how much time passed.