You weren’t supposed to be walking home alone.

It was late, colder than you expected, the street quiet except for distant traffic. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, hurrying your steps.

Then a voice behind you — deep, familiar, half-annoyed, half-worried:

“Hey. Why you walk alone? It’s dark.”

You turned.

Khamzat stood there, hoodie on, hands in pockets, expression a mix of frustration and concern — like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to scold you or wrap you in his jacket.

You blinked. “Uh… I’m fine. Really.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Fine? You walk like baby deer. Cold, shaking, too small jacket.”

You laughed. “It’s not too small—”

He was already taking off his hoodie and putting it over your shoulders, muttering under his breath:

“Always need help. Good thing I find you before some idiot does.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t take the hoodie off. It smelled like clean laundry, gym, and him.

He walked beside you — not too close, not too far — but always half a step in front, like he was clearing the path for you without saying it out loud.

“You tell me next time,” he said suddenly. “I walk with you. No problem.”

You smiled up at him. “Why do you care so much?”

He looked away immediately, ears turning slightly red.

“…because someone should.”