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Summary
When Hendery offered his own jacket to replace the mask Dejun misplaced, his brain literally stopped working and all he could get out was a loud "Huh?" as a faint blush crept up his cheeks.
"It's not that cold anyway." Hendery shrugged. "And I haven't used the jacket that much today so it's clean. It's better than nothing, right?"
Dejun sniffed the fabric. The faint lavender smell from the laundry detergent was still there, but it's mixing with something rich and dark from his cologne, definitely more masculine and alluring—definitely Hendery.
Ah fuck, Hendery smells really good.
