Unexpected Jealousy

Victor leaned back in the seat of his car, his gaze drifting out the window as the city lights blurred by. The quiet hum of the engine was the only sound, allowing his mind to wander. He was still distracted, thoughts looping back to the unanswered messages he'd sent Milo. Just as he was about to close his eyes to shake off the frustration, something caught his attention.

There, on the sidewalk, was Milo—his Milo, unmistakable even from a distance. Victor's heart skipped. He couldn't help the rush of relief that surged through him; Milo was back.

But then, something else stole his focus. Milo wasn't alone. He was with a man, someone unfamiliar, and they looked close—laughing together, shoulders brushing, Milo's hand lingering on the man's arm in a way that made Victor's stomach clench unexpectedly. His eyes narrowed as he observed them, a strange mix of confusion and annoyance growing inside him.

"Stop the car," he instructed his driver abruptly.

The car slowed to a stop along the curb, and Victor leaned forward, watching Milo closely from behind the tinted windows. He didn't get out—he didn't even know why he'd stopped in the first place. Perhaps he just needed to confirm Milo's presence, to make sure that the person he missed so much was actually back.

But as he watched, the laughter between Milo and the other man continued. There was an ease in their interaction that Victor had never quite seen before. And for some reason, that hit harder than he'd expected. He clenched his fists, feeling a sharp pang of something he didn't want to name.

"Drive," he said quietly, leaning back in his seat. The car started up again, merging back into the flow of traffic. Victor's gaze stayed on Milo and his companion until they disappeared from view.

By the time he reached the mansion, Victor's mind was a storm. The moment he walked through the door, he yanked off his jacket and tossed it onto the nearest chair, barely noticing where it landed. A wave of irritation surged through him, one he couldn't quite explain.

"He's back in town," he muttered to himself, pacing across the room. "Didn't bother to tell me, didn't call, didn't reply to any of my messages… And here he is, laughing on the street with someone else." He huffed, feeling the sting of anger mixed with something else, something he didn't want to acknowledge.

Victor paused, running a hand through his hair. Why did it bother him so much? Milo was his friend, yes—but seeing him with someone else, looking so close and comfortable, felt… wrong. He frowned, trying to shake off the unfamiliar feeling gnawing at him.

What right did he have to feel this way? Milo could spend time with whomever he wanted. But deep down, there was a stubborn part of him that couldn't accept it, a part that didn't like the idea of Milo being that close to anyone else.

"Why didn't he tell me he was back?" he whispered to himself, his voice carrying a slight edge of frustration. "And why do I care so much?"

Victor let out a frustrated sigh, collapsing onto the couch. His thoughts were tangled, and no matter how hard he tried to push them away, the image of Milo laughing with that stranger kept creeping back, fueling a strange anger he couldn't quite put a name to.

He closed his eyes, hoping sleep might quiet his mind. But even then, the thoughts lingered, refusing to let him rest.