"You made all of these?" Jet asked, mesmerized by the intricate carvings.
"Don't believe it?" Han teased, a faint smirk on his face.
Jet smiled softly, his gaze lingering on the toys. "How can I not? I see you almost every day, crafting anything with your calloused hands. It's… beautiful to see your creations come true."
Han chuckled and shook his head, but before he could reply, a sharp blast of cold wind blew through the door, swinging it open. Both of them shivered at the sudden gust.
"Sit," Han muttered, standing to lock the door again. He then brought Jet to sit down next to the fireplace to warm up.
Jet watched him silently before pulling his knees up near his head, wrapping his coat tighter around himself. Han sat beside him near the fire, his fingers red and trembling slightly from the cold.
Without a word, Jet looked at those red hands before untying his scarf and draping it over Han's shoulders.
Han froze for a moment, glancing at him with a mix of surprise and something else unspoken. "You'll freeze," he murmured, trying to take it off.
Jet stopped his hands, wrapping the woollen cloth around his friend. "I'll be fine," he replied firmly, offering a small smile.
Han hesitated but eventually let the warmth settle around his neck. A soft smile played on his lips, one that made Jet's chest tighten in a way he couldn't quite explain. Jet gently brushed small wood carvings left behind off of Han's attire, as Han silently looked at him from the top.
Soon, they both sat together in silence, the crackling fire filling the room. Jet's expression turned thoughtful, his gaze distant as if lost in his own world. Han noticed, his eyes lingering on Jet longer than they should.
"How are your studies?" Han asked, breaking the quiet. "Never heard you tell me about them other than showing me your books."
Jet shifted, sitting properly. "It isn't much. My parents hire private tutors to teach me."
"Private tutors aren't much? I don't even go to school. What do you learn other than poems?"
"Well," Jet began, his voice softening. "I have classes to learn the right ways of how an Omega should act, science like the study of primary and secondary genders, and, of course, poems and stories."
Han tilted his head curiously. "Can you tell me some things? I want to learn too."
Jet's face brightened at the request. He recited a few lines of poetry he had memorized, his voice steady and melodic. Han listened intently, his eyes never leaving Jet's face.
After a moment, Jet noticed the serious expression on Han's face and couldn't help but smirk. He mimicked Han's stern look, furrowing his brows and squaring his shoulders.
"Do I look like you now?"
Han blinked, startled by the impression, then burst into laughter—a sound that was most likely sacred and rarely heard. It was warm and unguarded, the kind of laugh that made Jet's chest tighten with emotions he didn't fully understand.
"I don't look like that!" Han managed between chuckles.
"Yes! Yes, you do!" Jet shot back, a big grin lighting up his face.
Han shook his head, the laughter fading into a soft smile. "Alright, I believe you. Your studies sound really interesting compared to my life. I mostly learn basic skills from the villagers—carving, hunting, searching for medicinal herbs, and their uses. It's simple compared to you."
Jet shook his head firmly. "Everyone's lives are different. It may seem easy for you, but you never truly know what's behind the curtains of another person. That's what makes the world full of different people."
Han nodded, thoughtful. "You've got a point," he admitted. After a moment, he added, "You learn about genders in your studies, right? Tell me something new about the secondary genders."
Jet tilted his head, giving him a questioning look. "You already know the basics. What else is there to say?"
Han smirked faintly, the flames from the fire casting soft shadows on his face. "Do they teach you about the myth?"
Jet raised a brow, intrigued. "No, they only teach us facts—truth, not fiction. But… what myth?"
Han leaned back slightly, his gaze fixed on the fire as if recalling a story. "Some people say there's actually a fourth gender, one so rare and unknown that it's almost like a secret. But… the number four is considered unlucky to some, and the lack of knowledge about this gender made people say there were only three."
Jet's curiosity was piqued, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in slightly closer. "A fourth gender?"
The air around them seemed to grow warmer—not from the fire, but from the proximity they suddenly shared. Jet scooched a little closer, his knee brushing against Han's. He pretended not to notice, though his heartbeat quickened. Han shifted slightly, aware of the closeness but not moving away.
"So, what's the story behind it?" Jet asked, his voice quieter now, as if afraid to disturb the fragile stillness.
Han glanced at him, their eyes meeting briefly before he turned back to the fire. "The myth says this gender is unlike any of the others. Some say they're a mix of traits from different genders. Others believe they have powers no one understands."
"Why haven't I heard of this before?" Jet asked, leaning even closer, his shoulder now brushing Han's.
"Because myths aren't taught in your fancy classes, city boy," Han teased softly, though his tone carried no malice.
Jet laughed lightly but didn't pull away, their closeness feeling strangely natural. The fire crackled between them, but the warmth spreading in Jet's chest felt like it came from somewhere else entirely.