The Freedom Fighters were close.

Family.

Being refugees and living out in camps with no adults or supervision, only having each other to rely on, bonds grew fast and deep.

Orphans needed love, and you all found it in each other.

And Jet was the reason for all of that.

The team leader. The oldest kid. The one who kept everyone together.

You liked him.

A lot.

I mean, he was the reason you had a family. The reason you had a life.

You loved him.

Not romantically, but in a familiar way, like he was your big brother.

No other kind of attraction.

Right?

Atleast that's what you thought until now.

Now you just needed to go ask him about the plans for tomorrow.

He was inside his half-built shelter made from sticks and stolen sheets.

A warm light from a small oil lantern flickered inside.

You pushed the sheet aside and stepped through.

And there stood Jet.

Shirtless.

In the middle of changing.

You froze completely.

Jet, meanwhile, didn't seem to care in the slightest. He kept digging through his worn bag as if nothing had happened.

"Hey, have you seen my hairbrush? I don't know where I put it. Momentarily lost..."

He muttered, still rummaging through his pack, completely oblivious to the fact that he was still shirtless, moving around in an almost entrancing way.