"Jet?" Han's voice rang out in the cold night, sharp with concern as he hurried toward him.

Jet looked up, his breath coming out in trembling clouds, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the cold that was seeping into his very bones. His eyes barely registered Han's presence, still blurry with the snow and the chill that gripped him like a vice.

"I didn’t expect to see you here," Jet managed to say through a shaky breath, his body quivering, not just from the cold.

Han was kneeling in front of him in an instant, his brow furrowed with worry. His sharp gaze swept over Jet's shivering form, taking in the pale skin flushed from the cold, his disheveled hair, and the way his hands were wrapped around his knees for warmth. Without saying another word, Han reached out, taking Jet’s freezing hand in his own. The warmth of his touch was like a lifeline, pulling Jet back from the edge of numbness.

"What are you doing out here?" Han’s voice was soft, edged with a quiet concern that made Jet’s chest tighten. "In the middle of the night... You’re freezing."

Before Jet could answer, Han moved quickly, pulling off his coat and wrapping it around Jet’s shoulders, drawing him close in a protective embrace. Jet barely had time to react as Han’s arms enveloped him, a steady warmth flooding through him, pushing back the cold that had settled too deep in his bones.

Jet inhaled sharply, his head resting on Han’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. For a moment, everything felt distant—the bite of the cold, the weight of his father’s words, the chaos of his life. It was just the two of them, here in the quiet night, and it was the only thing that kept him grounded.

“Why are you here?” Jet asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm against Han’s chest.

His words hung in the air like a question he couldn’t fully form, his chest tight with the mixture of emotions swirling inside him—grief, anger, confusion. But most of all, a yearning for something more, something that scared him.

Han didn’t hesitate. He pulled back just slightly, his eyes meeting Jet’s with a quiet intensity. "I should be asking you that," Han replied, his voice low, almost as if he were sharing a secret. 

There was something in his eyes—something unreadable, a flicker of understanding, perhaps, or something deeper, something that Jet didn’t know how to handle.

Han's fingers brushed gently against the back of Jet's neck, his touch warm and sure, as if grounding them both in the midst of the chaos that had surrounded Jet’s life. Jet closed his eyes, leaning into Han’s warmth, his heart pounding in his chest.

In this moment, everything seemed to pause—the hurt, the confusion, the world beyond them. And Jet found himself craving the feeling of Han’s presence, the sense of safety he seemed to offer in this broken, shattered world.

Han rose to his feet, lifting Jet effortlessly into his arms in a bridal carry. The wolves, once poised to pounce, now sat obediently, their eyes following the two of them with silent understanding.

"Where are you taking me?" Jet's voice was faint, the chill of the night still clinging to him.

"Back to your home," Han replied, his tone firm, though there was a softness beneath it.

Jet’s eyes widened in protest. He didn’t want to go back—not now, not like this. Panic flared in his chest, and he squirmed, trying to break free from Han's grip. But Han was stronger than he looked, his hold unyielding.

"Han, please... I don’t want to go back," Jet whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and frustration.

Han slowed his pace and glanced down at Jet, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean? Why not?"

Jet bit his lip, looking away as the truth hung heavily in the air. "I just... I don’t want to face them. Not now."

Han’s steps faltered, sensing the weight behind Jet’s words. He didn’t pressure him for more, but his grip tightened, as if offering comfort without needing to speak.

"Who?" Han asked, quieter this time, his voice laced with concern. "What happened?"

Jet let out a long, shaky sigh. His body felt heavy, but it wasn’t just the cold. It was the dread gnawing at his insides, the fear of what his parents would do when he got back.

“There’ve been rumours,” Jet began. He closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to find the words. "People... are talking about us. My father heard them. And... he was furious, Han. He started shouting at me. He didn’t even let me explain."

Han’s jaw tightened, and his grip around Jet tightened too, almost protectively. "Rumours?" His voice was dark, the anger barely restrained. "What kind of rumours?"

Jet turned his head slightly to meet Han’s eyes, but the vulnerability in his own made him quickly look down. 

“They said I was marked by you,” Jet said.. “That we were together, doing bad things. And my father—he wouldn’t listen! He didn’t care what I said. He grabbed me. Pulled my hair. He didn’t believe me.”

Han’s chest tightened, a surge of guilt and anger surging through him. The thought of Jet being treated like that—by his own father—stirred something deep and protective inside him. 

“Jet..." he murmured, but his voice faltered, unsure of how to comfort him.

Jet sighed, his chest heavy with the pressure of everything he’d been holding in. “Then my mother came in, and she tried to stop him. They started fighting. It was chaos. I don’t know what to do. I just—I just want to escape. I don’t want to go back and face that yet.”

The raw pain in Jet’s voice made Han's heart ache, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He could feel the weight of Jet’s fear. 

Slowly, Han leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against Jet’s. The gesture was soft but full of understanding, as though it was his way of saying, I’m here with you.

"Jet, you don’t have to go back there if you’re not ready," Han said quietly. "But running away, hiding from them, that won’t fix it. You need to confront this. But you don’t have to do it alone."

Jet shuddered, the warmth of Han’s breath mingling with the cold air around them. "I don’t know," he whispered. "I don’t know if I’m strong enough to face them yet."

"You’re stronger than you think," Han replied softly, brushing a hand through Jet’s messy hair. "You’ve made it through so much already. And no matter what happens, I’ll be here. I’ll help you face it, no matter how bad the situation.”

Jet’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and he leaned into Han’s touch, the faintest hint of relief settling in his chest. 

“I don’t deserve you," he whispered. "I don’t deserve you being so kind to me when I’m such a mess."

Han’s gaze softened, and he gave a small shake of his head. "You don’t need to deserve it, Jet. You’re my friend. And that’s enough for me. Now let's warm you up at my place."

The air between them settled into a quiet understanding, one filled with the unspoken promise that, no matter the distance Jet might feel from everything else, Han would be right there, ready to stand with him through whatever came next.

—-

The snow continued to fall, but not as gently as before. Suddenly,  an overpowering wave of pheromones hit Han like a punch—Jet’s scent, unmistakable and intense.