Han followed faint footprints in the snow, his sharp eyes scanning the forest for any sign of movement. The tracks led him down toward the waterfall, but they stopped abruptly at the edge of the frozen stream.
His heart raced as he scanned the cascading waters and the treacherous ice below. "Feng Jet!" he called, his voice rising above the rush of the waterfall. "Jet!"
No answer.
Han's pulse thundered in his ears as he circled the area, the familiar forest suddenly feeling vast and foreign. His thoughts spiraled: Is Jet lost? Did I miss a turn? Am I going in circles?
Returning to the edge of the waterfall, he stood frozen, his breath misting in the cold air. He clenched his fists, cursing himself silently. 'I just wanted to bring him to our place —and now… where is he?'
Then, faintly, the sound of hurried footsteps broke through the roar of the water.
"Han!" a voice called from behind him.
Han spun around just as Jet came bounding up the slope, a grin plastered on his face.
"I'm here!" Jet shouted, his voice full of laughter.
Relief flooded Han, but before he could respond, Jet's foot caught on the slick ground. He slipped, his arms flailing as gravity pulled him forward.
Han's instincts kicked in immediately. He lunged toward Jet, arms outstretched, catching him mid-fall. The impact sent them both tumbling to the ground, Han twisting at the last second to shield Jet from the hard earth.
Jet's chest rose and fell as he lay sprawled across Han, their bodies tangled together in a way that left no space between them. His lashes fluttered as he opened his eyes, his breath catching when he found himself staring straight into Han's.
Han's face was inches away, his expression frozen, a flicker of shock mingling with something deeper, unspoken, but impossible to ignore. Jet's heart stammered, his pulse roaring in his ears.
Their breaths mingled, soft and uneven, and Jet was painfully aware of the warmth radiating from Han. His gaze involuntarily flicked down to Han's lips—close enough that the slightest shift would erase the distance—and then back to those eyes that seemed to see right through him.
Time slowed, stretched, then stopped entirely. The roar of the waterfall dulled, the icy chill of the snow disappeared. All that remained was the sound of their breathing and the overwhelming gravity of the moment between them.
Han's heartbeat thundered in his chest, matching Jet's. For the briefest moment, his hand twitched as though it wanted to reach out, but he froze, caught in the intensity of Jet's gaze. It was as though the world held its breath, waiting for something neither of them could name.
Jet's lips parted, but no words came. The pull between them tightened, a thread connecting their souls from across time.
And then it all shattered.
The dream dissolved, fragments slipping away like water through trembling fingers.
Jet bolted upright in his bed, gasping for air. His chest heaved, his hands clutching the sheets as if trying to ground himself. The memory of Han's breath, the warmth of his presence as though it had been real.
Across the city, Han shot upright in his bed. His fingers ghosted over his lips, his brows furrowed, his breathing unsteady. The vividness of the dream—no, the memory—left him shaken.
"Feng Jet," he muttered under his breath, the name clinging to him like an echo.
"Zhao Han," Jet whispered at the same time, his voice barely audible in the quiet of the room.
Separated by distance but bound by the same dream, they sat in silence, their hearts pounding in unison, their thoughts caught between past and present.
Jet's sudden awakening startled Melon and Peach, the two hamsters scurrying in circles inside their cage. Jet took a moment to steady his breathing before reaching for his glasses and shuffling over to them.
The small creatures paused, their tiny noses twitching as they stared up at him, as if mirroring his confusion. Jet let out a soft sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.
"How bad has it gotten that I'm dreaming about him now?" he murmured, his voice laced with frustration. "A dream where I can't tell the past from the present. They look the same."
Melon turned to Peach, and for a brief second, it seemed like they exchanged a glance before looking back at their owner.
Jet scoffed softly, shaking his head. "That dream was so unnecessary," he muttered, glancing at the clock. It was still far too early to be unraveling his thoughts.
With another sigh, Jet set his glasses back down and returned to bed, his body heavy with exhaustion. He closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come quickly, praying the remnants of the dream would finally leave him alone, at least for the rest of the night.
Across town, Han sat on the edge of his bed, the silence of the house amplifying his thoughts. The only sounds were faint movements from the cleaners elsewhere in the large space. He reached over to turn on the lamp on his bedside table, its warm glow softening the shadows of the dark room.
Picking up his glasses, Han put them on, his eyes lingering on the room as if searching for something to ground him. He rubbed his face with his hands, the weight of the dream pressing heavily on his mind.
How was he supposed to face Jet again with that memory etched so vividly in his thoughts?
His gaze drifted to the bedside table where a book lay—a novel written by Jet Lev. Han ran his fingers over the hardcover, the title seeming to mock him with its familiarity.
'It felt so surreal,' he thought.
The parallels between the book and his dreams were too striking to ignore. Han knew Jet couldn't have written it by coincidence. The details—the separation of lovers, the clash of families, the winter forest—they were all pieces of their shared past, haunting him like a shadow he couldn't escape.
'I want to tell you,' Han thought, his fingers tracing the edge of the book. 'But I'm afraid you'll call me crazy.'
He let out a slow, measured breath, his chest tightening. 'How could I have let you down like that? Dying in front of you, leaving you alone… all those years ago.'
Han sighed deeply, his hand falling away from the book. 'And the fact you followed soon after… killed my heart,' he murmured, his voice barely audible in the empty room.
The words lingered in the air like an unspoken confession, heavy with regret and longing. Han leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling as if searching for answers in the shadows.
'I couldn't protect you then, but I swear… this time, I'll do better,' he vowed silently, his fist clenching at the side.