Han stiffened for a second, caught off guard by the sudden boldness. But just as quickly, he melted into it, his hands instinctively resting on Jet's waist. The kiss was firm and deliberate but brief—just a few seconds—but it sent a jolt through both of them.
When Jet finally pulled away, he let out a small, satisfied breath, his fingers still lightly gripping Han's collar. "Don't think I didn't notice all those forehead kisses," he murmured. "Your pheromones spike every time you do it."
Han didn't move, his face unreadable at first, but then—he chuckled. Low, warm, and undeniably amused.
"My little Alpha, can't let anything slide, huh?"
Jet smirked but quickly scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling the weight of what he'd just done.
"Don't take it seriously," he muttered. "Just thought I'd return the favor."
Han tilted his head, his eyes glinting with something unreadable.
"Oh? Then should I return this too?"
Han took a step forward, his fingers grazing Jet's jaw, as if considering stealing another kiss. Now, more desperate and wanting.
Jet tensed, heart pounding. Before he could react, Han's phone buzzed—but he ignored it. This wouldn't take long.
Han leaned in again, this time pressing a longer, deeper kiss against Jet's lips. When he pulled away, he was flushed red—embarrassed by his own boldness.
Jet blinked at him, breath slightly uneven, but before he could say anything, Han finally pulled his phone from his pocket.
Dad.
Han answered immediately. "Hello?"
"Han," his father's voice came through the speaker. "When are you and Ron free?"
Han frowned. "That's an odd question. Why?"
"I want to have dinner with you both," his father said, his tone light. "My treat."
Han thought for a moment, then nodded to himself. "I'll be busy starting the day after tomorrow at noon, but I can do tonight."
"Perfect. Here, pass the phone to Ron."
Han turned to Jet, handing him the phone.
Jet blinked, confused. "What?"
"My dad wants to talk to you," Han said. "When are you free for dinner?"
Jet's eyes widened. "I—I'm fine with any date, but going out as a co—?"
"Great! Then tonight it is!" Han's father cut in, hanging up before Jet could protest.
Jet froze. His hands slowly lifted to his face, covering his regretful expression. "He was still on the phone…"
Han sat beside him, patting his back. "Want to change the date? I can call him back."
Jet sighed, lowering his head. "Nah, it's fine. You're busy anyway."
Han shook his head. "No! If you're uncomfortable, tell me. I can help you, you know."
Jet lifted his head slightly, staring at Han with a serious expression.
"…Let's break up."
The sound of objects clattering to the floor made both of them jolt.
June and Livia—who had apparently walked out—stared at them in horror before immediately bolting out the door without another word.
Jet scrambled to his feet, panicking. "No—no! It's not what you think!"
But the damage was done. The two were gone.
Jet dropped back down on the sofa, dying internally.
"I guess this is what fake dating is—no one knows," Han said, attempting to comfort him.
Jet let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Heavens, this is gonna be a mess."
Han chuckled, leaning back. "You think my dad would invite us out just to stare at us in silence?"
Jet shot him a look. "No. But pretending in front of one person is one thing. A whole dinner? That's a different battlefield."
Han hummed in amusement. "It's just my dad. He likes you."
Jet furrowed his brows. "Wait, you never mentioned that."
"I didn't?" Han smirked. "He likes you."
Jet didn't know why that made him nervous. Maybe it's because suddenly, he was going to dinner as Han's fake boyfriend.
Jet groaned, covering his face again. "This is gonna be a disaster."
Han patted his back, his voice teasing. "Don't worry, my little Alpha. I'll hold your hand if you get scared."
Jet grabbed a pillow and smacked Han with it, flipping him off for good measure.
Han chuckled but didn't retaliate, instead settling beside him with a sigh. "Alright, alright," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "I know this is going to be awkward, but it's just once. I promise. If my father asks again, I'll say no. And if you're uncomfortable now, tell me."
Jet didn't respond, simply groaning as he threw the pillow over his face.
Han hesitated, then reached out, gently taking Jet's hand in his. "I'll do anything," he murmured, his voice quieter this time. "As long as you don't leave me again. Never again."
Jet's breath hitched beneath the pillow. 'Leave? Again?' His grip on Han's hand tightened. 'You left me. I was married off to someone else.' But the thought brought forth an even bigger, more terrifying question. 'How did I die?'
The weight of those unknown memories pressed down on him, but he forced them aside for now. He patted Han's hand lightly, forcing out a casual tone.
"Let me nap here. Wake me up when you're getting ready."
Han nodded, watching as Jet adjusted himself and drifted off. For a moment, he simply stared, taking in the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. Then, unable to help himself, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against Jet's temple.
"Please… never leave again," he whispered, his voice almost pleading.
Jet didn't stir, but the warmth of Han's touch lingered. And as Han sat there, watching over him, he couldn't shake the feeling that no matter how much he tried to hold onto Jet—there was still something slipping through his fingers.
Deep in his heart, Jet knew what Han meant—on the day they were separated, he had cried his heart out for him. He had screamed to the heavens, begging, pleading for just one thing—to give him back his only friend.
Yet after thousands of years of waiting, Jet wasn't sure anymore.
Had it really been him all along? Or was it just another cruel trick of fate? He had lived too many lives, felt too many fleeting emotions, and watched too many faces fade into memory. Could this just be another love-is-blind situation?
Who knew?
Jet exhaled softly, tightening his grip on Han's hand as if grounding himself in the present. Whether it was fate, coincidence, or something else entirely—right now, Han was here. And for now, that was enough.
—
Here's a smoother and more polished version with better flow and clarity:
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"Do I need to wear a suit?" Jet asked, fidgeting with his hands.
Han raised a brow. "Why would you?"
Jet shrugged, overwhelmed by the sudden meetup. "I don't know! I'm just suddenly meeting your father!"
"Something formal but not too stiff—just a collared shirt will do," Han suggested. "Do you want to go home and grab something?"
Jet shook his head. "I'll just borrow yours."
Han scoffed. "If you dare. My father will know instantly—it'll smell like me." He eyed Jet, watching his restless movements. "Though I doubt he'll care."
Jet sighed. "I don't know… I've been in relationships before, but I never met the parents until things got serious. And now I have to sit down and talk about someone I barely know? This is worse."
Han was quiet for a moment before offering, "We can make an excuse—say your mom needs emergency help, and I'll take you home. What do you think?"
Jet hesitated, then sighed. "If you say so."
Han reached for Jet's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "It's your choice. We'll do whatever makes you comfortable, okay?"
Jet nodded. "Okay."
With that, they got dressed and left on time for dinner. Han's father had reserved a private room, making it easier to keep Han's identity low-profile.
Jet walked in, gripping Han's arm tightly. His heart pounded, but Han gave his hand a subtle squeeze, grounding him. The waitress led them to the room, then left.
Jet exhaled and stepped forward as Han opened the door—only to freeze.
There were more people than expected.
Han's uncles and aunts were here too.