Jet spent most of his time at home or taking his mother out whenever her schedule allowed. The moments with her were comforting, a welcome distraction from the thoughts that crept in when he was alone. Still, no matter how busy he kept himself, Han's face seemed to appear in his mind uninvited—especially the dream.
Sitting at a restaurant, Jet idly scrolled through his phone. Han's number sat prominently in his contacts list, a stark reminder of his hesitance. He'd typed out messages over the last few weeks—some casual, some long—but he always deleted them before hitting send.
With a sigh, he locked the screen and set the phone down. 'Maybe he's forgotten already,' Jet thought, though the idea stung far more than he'd like to admit.
His mother's hand suddenly blocked his view of the phone, pulling him from his thoughts. She smiled at him, and he returned it faintly, grateful for her silent encouragement. But even her warmth couldn't push away the persistent weight that lingered.
—
Han flipped through a script on his couch, but the words blurred together. His agent had been thrilled with his recent string of auditions, and he'd secured promising roles in upcoming projects. Yet, none of it seemed to hold his attention.
Every quiet moment brought memories of Jet. And every night brought that same dream—the one that left his chest tight and his thoughts jumbled.
Han tossed the script onto the coffee table and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. His phone buzzed on the table, and he instinctively reached for it, only to feel disappointment when it wasn't Jet.
"You're an idiot, Yau Han," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "You can't just sit here waiting for him to make the first move."
But even as he told himself that, the thought of reaching out felt just as daunting. What would he even say? 'Hey, I can't stop dreaming about you?' He scoffed at the absurdity of it, yet the ache in his chest wouldn't ease.
The longer he hesitated, the heavier the feeling became. Somewhere deep down, he knew if he didn't act soon, he'd regret it.
—
The weight of the silence became unbearable for Han that night. After pacing his apartment for what felt like hours, he grabbed his phone and typed out a message to Jet.
"Hey. Are you free to talk?"
Jet was just about to fall asleep when the notification lit up his screen. His heart skipped a beat as he quickly typed back.
"Yeah. What's up?"
Han hesitated, staring at his screen before replying.
"I need advice, and I don't know who else to ask."
Jet frowned slightly, his curiosity piqued.
"Tell me."
Han stared at the message for a long moment, his heart pounding as he worked up the courage to continue. Finally, he typed:
"Can we call?"
Jet's eyes widened at the request. He reread the message a few times, wondering if he was imagining things.
"Sure."
Before Jet could even set his phone down, it began buzzing. Han was calling. He answered immediately, bringing the phone to his ear.
"Hello? Han?" Jet asked, his voice soft as he adjusted the phone to speaker.
"Yeah, I'm here," Han replied, his voice calm and steady.
"So, what advice do you need?" Jet asked, settling back onto his bed.
Han sighed on the other end of the line, and Jet could almost hear the tension in it.
"I have a friend," Han began, a subtle lie slipping into his words. "He's been having this recurring dream, and he came to me for advice, but… I don't know what to tell him."
"What kind of dream?" Jet asked, curious now.
Han hesitated, his voice softer as he continued. "He says it's about him and a girl he works with. He likes her, but he's too afraid to make a move. In the dream, they're just friends, playing around and being dumb until they both collapse on each other from exhaustion." Han paused briefly, altering the story slightly as he spoke. "That moment—it made him realize how much he wants to confess. But he's scared. She's not in a relationship, he thinks but he doesn't want to ruin what they have."
Jet listened intently, lying on his bed, his head sinking deeper into the pillow. Han's voice filled the room, calm and steady, carrying a soothing cadence that felt almost hypnotic.
"…and now, he doesn't know what to do," Han finished. He paused, waiting for Jet's response, but the other end of the line had grown unusually quiet.
"Jet?" Han called gently, his brows furrowing in confusion. "You still there?"
A soft snore answered him. Han blinked, then let out a quiet laugh. "Jet?" he called again, louder this time, though his tone remained amused.
On the other end, Jet jolted awake, his eyes snapping open as Han's voice seemed to echo right beside him.
"Y-yeah, I'm here," Jet mumbled groggily, his voice thick with sleep. He rubbed his face, stifling a yawn. "Sorry, I was just… uh… thinking with my eyes closed."
Han chuckled softly, the warmth in his tone unmistakable. "You fell asleep, didn't you?"
"No," Jet replied weakly, though his yawn gave him away. "Your voice is just… really nice. Like… soothing, you know?"
Han smiled despite himself. "If you're tired, we can end the call. You need sleep."
Jet shook his head, even though Han couldn't see it. "Nah, it's fine. I like listening to you. It's… kinda nice not being alone right now."
Han's chest tightened at the vulnerability in Jet's voice. He hesitated for a moment before replying softly, "Alright. But if you fall asleep again, I won't hold it against you."
Jet hummed in response, his voice heavy with drowsiness. "Deal. Just… keep talking. I like it."
Han continued speaking, his voice quieter now, more in tune with the peaceful rhythm of the moment than the story itself. Minutes passed, and as he spoke, a soft smile spread across his face. For the first time in weeks, the silence between them felt light, broken by something meaningful.
A soft snore interrupted his thoughts, and Han's smile grew. Jet had finally fallen asleep.
"Goodnight, Feng Jet," Han murmured, his tone gentle. He ended the call, still smiling as he set his phone aside.