By the time Han finally felt the grip on his hand loosen, they were already standing before the waterfall—its cascading tiers tumbling down like nature's stairs, flowing with an almost heavenly rhythm.
"Heaven's Cascade," Han murmured.
Jet nodded, letting the scenery soak in. 'Just like how I remember you in the dream,' he thought, stealing a glance at Han. Yet, Han's gaze was fixed on Jet, finding the shorter Alpha far more captivating than the grand waterfall before them.
The two eventually sat down near the pond where the waterfall emptied, the clouds rolling in to dim the sun's brightness. The gentle breeze brushed past them, carrying the scent of water and earth.
Jet smirked, mischief glinting in his eyes as he leaned back, ready to start his "trick." Han shook his head, his faint laugh breaking the quiet. He could already see what Jet was up to.
"You know, Han," Jet began, tilting his head casually, "most people get embarrassed when someone just stares at them for a while."
Han raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. "Oh? Is that what you're trying to do? Test your theory on me?"
Jet chuckled, leaning forward a little, his smirk growing. "Maybe. I mean, I'm sure I could make you look away first."
Han shook his head again, his voice light but firm. "I wouldn't be so confident if I were you. You'll break before I do."
Jet crossed his arms, eyes sparkling with amusement. "We'll see about that."
And so, the subtle game began—a teasing battle of wills, neither willing to look away, as if testing an unspoken connection that neither fully understood yet.
Han glanced at him, one brow slightly raised. "Is that so?"
Jet nodded, leaning closer with a mischievous grin. "Oh yeah. Some might even get red-faced if you lean in and say something like…" He dropped his voice, teasingly close, "You have really nice eyes, Han."
Han's lips barely twitched. "Thank you. I've heard that before."
Jet blinked, a little surprised at how unaffected Han seemed. "Okay, tough crowd," he muttered, taking a step back. He crossed his arms, pretending to think. "How about this one? What if I said…" He leaned forward again, his grin widening. "I think your voice is really attractive. The kind that would make anyone weak in the knees."
Han tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "You have a very colorful imagination, Jet."
Jet groaned, throwing his head back. "Come on! You've got to give me something here. You can't be this immune to compliments."
Han chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. "It's not immunity. I just know when I'm being baited."
Jet rolled his eyes but laughed along. "Fine, Mr. Yau. You win this round."
As he spoke, a small leaf floated down from above, landing neatly on Han's shoulder. Without thinking, Jet reached out and brushed it off, his fingers lingering briefly on the fabric of Han's coat.
"You've got leaves all over you," he said, casually brushing another off Han's sleeve, then one from his hair.
Han's breath caught. His composure faltered for the first time as he stiffened under Jet's touch. The simple gesture—so familiar, so gentle—triggered a memory buried deep within him.
In his mind, he saw another time, another life. A younger Jet, laughing under the autumn trees, brushing leaves off his robes with the same casual grace. Feng Jet.
Han's cheeks turned a shade of red he couldn't suppress.
Jet noticed immediately, his eyes widening in surprise. "Wait a minute," he said, stepping back to study Han's face. "Are you… blushing?"
Han cleared his throat, quickly turning away to hide his reaction. "It's just warm today," he muttered.
Jet burst out laughing, doubling over with glee. "No way! After everything, this is what gets you? A leaf?"
Han didn't respond, but the redness on his ears betrayed him.
Jet grinned, his teasing turning softer. "You're full of surprises, Han."
Han didn't reply immediately, his gaze fixed on the pond as if lost in thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but steady.
"And so are you, Jet."
Jet chuckled, trying to keep his composure, but then suddenly waved a hand in the air, fanning himself dramatically. "Your scent is really strong," he said casually before standing up and walking away.
Han blinked in surprise, confusion flickering across his face. His scent? Pheromones? It seemed normal—neither spiking nor dipping. His rut wasn't for weeks. So why was Jet reacting like that?
Meanwhile, Jet had walked a few steps away, his palms pressed firmly against his face, his cheeks burning brighter than they ever had. The comment had been an excuse to distance himself, to try and calm the sudden rush of feelings he couldn't quite explain.
'You're joking,' he thought, his mind replaying Han's soft words, that calm face, that small but devastating smile. 'Fuck.'
Jet crouched down, staring at the forest ahead, one hand still covering his mouth as he struggled to steady his breathing. His thoughts swirled in a chaotic storm, emotions colliding and refusing to settle no matter how hard he tried.
The faint sound of grass crunching behind him made him tense. He didn't dare to turn around.
Han stopped a short distance away, hesitant. "Are you alright?" he asked softly, concern lacing his tone. "Is the pheromone scent still bothering you?"
Jet shook his head slowly, not trusting himself to look back. "Don't worry about me," he replied, his voice quieter than usual.
Han didn't press further. After a moment of silence, he turned and walked toward the pavilion. Jet exhaled deeply, forcing himself to his feet. His eyes followed Han as he gathered the leftover trash, the Alpha moving with an ease and familiarity that tugged painfully at Jet's chest.
"Is it really you?" Jet whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. His heart clenched as he turned his gaze to the ground. "Stop giving me false hope."
Han returned, stopping a respectful distance away, and the two began walking toward the car in silence. The atmosphere was heavy with unspoken words, a fragile tension hanging between them.
As they reached the car, Jet immediately turned toward the window, avoiding Han's gaze. His ear caught the faintest tinge of red, a telltale sign of his lingering embarrassment.
Sliding into the driver's seat, Han caught the detail and felt a small smile tug at his lips. 'Little Jet, turning red?' he thought, his chest tightening at the memory. 'Feng Jet... Oh, Feng Jet. You were the only one who ever did that.'
He gripped the steering wheel, stealing a glance at Jet, who remained focused on the window, lost in his own thoughts. Neither of them spoke, but that night's dream wasn't helping either…
—-
"Feng Jet!" Zhao Han shouted again, his voice carrying a growing edge of unease. He could smell Jet's pheromones, faint but lingering, which reassured him that Jet was still nearby. Yet, the silence made his chest tighten.
Jet had run down the hill a while ago, saying he wanted to explore, but he hadn't returned. Han's worry deepened with every passing moment.