Jealousy - M Harlow

Harlow isn’t quite sure when he began caring about your well being. He isn’t sure when his heart began beating out of his chest at the mere thought of you in danger. Images of your many deaths flash across his memory; once upon a time, you’d been an annoyance. Now it feels like a pit has opened up in his stomach when he recalls all the ways he watched the light leave your eyes.

It makes him sick.

You don’t have many classes together, luckily. He doesn’t have to lay eyes on you and feel as if someone is ripping every rib from his body one by one until he’s a bloody mess. He knows how it feels to be taken apart physically; turns out the emotional equivalent is just as bad.

However, what hurts even more than seeing you in general is seeing you with someone else. That’s a new development, and one he’s wholly against. Why does he even care? Why does seeing you leave the lecture hall with a guy at your side make him feel like pulling his hair out?

He can’t afford to lose any more hair, after all. The stress already does that for him on a regular basis. He’s already far too used to picking it out in clumps in the shower.

Looking down, he determinedly doesn’t look up as he makes his way to his dorm. You’re in a different building and he’ll part ways with you soon enough. His eyes keep drifting up, though, and-

You’re shuffling away. Pulling back every chance you get.

His brows furrow, eyes darting over your posture and the way the man seems to crowd you. He’d thought it over eager attraction at first, but with you trying to get away it didn’t look great for the guy.

He calls out your name, his voice sharper than he intended, but you jerk around in instant with relief of your face. He isn’t sure if he’s grateful or not that you’re happy to see him, but he definitely feels like throwing up.

“Mitchell,” The guy scoffs, “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“I think I’m needed here,” Harlow glares, crossing his arms.

“Clearly you’re as batshit as your mother,” He sneers, “Because I can’t think of one place that needs a broken banshee.”

Well, that definitely brought him up short. Harlow isn’t even sure how to respond, his mouth opening before closing just as quickly. No words escape. Can he argue with sentiment? Not really. He just needs to stay long enough that he can make sure you’re safe-

You spin on your heel, your hand cracking against the guy’s face with a resounding slap. He stumbles back, shocked, and Harlow is pretty sure he does the same.

“Don’t,” You say, voice low as you poke the man violently in the chest before shoving him back, “Talk to him like that.”

“You-“ The idiot snarls, but he pales when your magic crackles at your fingertips.

Unchosen or not, you’re quite frightening when you want to be.

“I’ll get you fucking expelled,” He bites out before hauling off with haste.

You relax before noticing Harlow’s wide eyed look. You give him a small smile, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Hey,” You say, before grimacing at the sound of your own voice.

“You won’t make him leave when you’re uncomfortable,” Harlow says slowly, “But you slap the shit out of him for insulting me?”

“He deserved it,” You shrug, “It just…made me mad.”

Harlow comes to stop at your side, pausing for a moment to enjoy the way the streetlights cast a warm glow around you. He offers his hand, and you’re polite enough not to mention it shaking.

“I’ll walk you back?” He offers.

“I’d like that,” You slip your hand in his, so warm against his cool skin.

He definitely feels sick again, but he pushes it down and tries to enjoy this while it lasts.