The Taste of Jealousy

King's fingers trembled slightly as he pulled the soft grey sweatshirt over his head, trying not to wince. A sharp pain sliced through the right side of his lower abdomen. He froze, one hand still clutching the fabric.

"Shit," he whispered, grabbing the edge of the table to steady himself.

Charlotte, lounging on the bed while scrolling through her phone, glanced up. Are you okay?

He forced a smile, swallowing hard. I'm fine. Just moved too fast.

You sure? You look like you just got punched by a ghost.

Yes, I'm fine.

Before she could say more, a message buzzed on King's phone. He picked it up.

Win: Dress up. I'm taking you out.

Charlotte's teasing stopped cold when she saw King wince as he tried to straighten up. Her eyes narrowed, concern quickly replacing her playful tone. That Win? she asked.

King gave a small nod, pressing a hand to his side as he slowly stood upright.

Yeah, he muttered, forcing a smile. He said I should dress up, we're going out to eat.

Charlotte crossed her arms, her eyes scanning him up and down.

And you're still going, looking like you're one sneeze away from collapsing?

He tried to laugh it off but winced again instead.

It's not that bad, I'll be fine.

Charlotte wasn't buying it. But she didn't press further.

Downstairs, Win and Mike were wrapping up the last bit of their business talk. A tablet was laid between them, graphs and contract clauses still pulled up.

Mike leaned back, sipping his water. If this new distribution deal in Phuket works out, you're looking at a 20% profit increase by Q2.

Win nodded, but his gaze flickered toward the staircase. Something felt off.

Then King descended, one hand subtly pressing to his side.

Mike was still speaking, but Win was already halfway out of his chair.

King? he asked, stepping forward, eyes scanning his pale face. Are you okay?

King shook his head quickly. It's nothing. Just twisted a little. I'm fine.

Win's expression darkened. You're not fine. You're pale, your hands are cold, and you're clearly in pain. He reached forward before stopping himself, like touching would make it worse.

Mike observed quietly as Charlotte grabbed her purse and prepared to leave.

But not without whispering to herself as she passed them, watching Win hover like a mother hen.

"Truly not bad… but still not better."

She smiled faintly, then vanished out the door.

Mike gave Win a sly look. You sure you're not married yet?

"Shut up."

Mike chuckled and followed Charlotte out.

Win helped King into the car, letting him recline the seat slightly. On the way, they stopped at a pharmacy. King didn't protest. He just leaned back, eyes closed, trying not to moan each time the car jostled.

Win glanced over more than once. His jaw clenched tighter each time King winced.

When they arrived at the restaurant, King was already asleep.

Win didn't wake him. Instead, he stepped out quietly, ordered their food, and returned with a warm drink and pain meds in hand.

An hour passed. The sun began its descent, casting soft shadows across the dashboard.

Finally, King stirred.

Win turned to him immediately. You okay?

King blinked, disoriented. How long was I out?

A while. You needed rest.

I didn't mean to.

Don't apologize. But listen, Win said gently, pushing the drink toward him. This is the third time you've had pain like this. You need to see a doctor.

King stiffened. No. I'm not doing that.

Win's brow furrowed, concern deepening in his eyes. King, this could be serious.

I said no, King said softly.

Win staggered, King, I just want to...

Enough, King cut in. His voice was firmer now, I know what this is. You'll use it as another excuse to find something wrong with me. Another test. Another label. Another reason to....

Win opened his mouth, That's not it, he said quietly.

Then stopped.

He sighed, lowering his gaze. I'm not trying to trap you. I just want you to be okay.

King didn't answer. He reached for the food instead.

They ate in silence, but the tension hummed between them like a wire pulled too tight.

A few moments later, the mood in the car had shifted, not cheerful, not tense. Just suspended. King had eaten a little, the painkillers dulling the sharpness in his side into a distant throb. Win still kept glancing over like he expected him to faint any second.

Eventually, King cleared his throat, voice quiet but steady. "You still want to meet Mike?"

Win blinked like he'd been pulled from somewhere far away. "If you're not too tired."

King gave a small shrug, avoiding his gaze. "I'm good."

Win studied him for a second longer, as if still unsure, so they went.

The bar was softly lit with gold accents and the low hum of jazz melting into modern beats. Neon kissed the walls in slow pulses, like breathing light.

Win parked, cut the engine, and got out first, circling to open the door for King. You good? He asked quietly.

King nodded, though it came with a slight wince as he straightened. Yeah.

Win hovered closer than usual, hand almost touching King's lower back, then retreating. Like he wasn't sure what boundary existed anymore between worry and something else.

They stepped inside.

The bar welcomed them with dim gold light and mellow beats curling through the air like smoke. King let out a soft exhale, already scanning for a quiet corner to sit, his body still tired, the ache dulled but not forgotten.

He was mid-step toward one of the booths when something caught his eye.

Across the room, half-shadowed beneath a hanging lamp, sat a familiar figure. At first, King blinked, unsure. It had only been one meeting. But then the man turned slightly, the warm curve of his smile lit briefly as he said something to the bartender.

And there was no doubt. It was James.

King faltered in place, surprise crackling through him. His lips parted slightly. His stomach gave a tiny flip not from pain this time, but something close to nerves. Or maybe excitement. He hadn't expected to see him.

Without thinking, he turned to Win. "I'll be right back, he murmured.

Win raised a brow, confused. Where..

But King didn't finish the explanation. He was already moving. The heaviness he carried earlier lifted, just for a second, as he moved toward James like the air had changed.

Win's brows furrowed as he tracked him. Then his entire posture stiffened.

Mike arrived behind him, casually fixing his collar. You okay?

Win didn't answer.

James spotted King just as he got close. His eyes widened, surprise flashing across his face before it softened into something warmer.

King? His voice carried a mix of disbelief and delight.

King gave a sheepish smile. Hey… didn't expect to see you here.

Same, James said, setting his drink down. You come here often?

First time, King replied. You?

Kind of a regular. It's usually quiet. I like that.

There was a pause the kind not awkward but ripe with unspoken things.

Are you here alone? James asked.

King blinked, then looked away. No. I came with my friends.

Across the bar, Win's fists curled.

Mike gave a low whistle. Oh, damn. Jealousy is loud tonight.

Win shot him a glare. Don't start.

Just saying. Mike nudged his side. You look like you're two seconds from biting a glass in half.

Win said nothing, but the vein in his jaw pulsed hard.

James leaned closer to King, saying something that made him laugh a soft, surprised sound that Win hadn't heard all day.

Win exhaled, sharp and quiet.

Then, as if he felt the weight of that stare, King turned eyes scanning until they found Win's across the room.

The laughter dimmed.

He excused himself with a polite nod, said something to James, then started back

slower this time, hesitant.

Mike leaned in again. So, when are you going to stop pretending he's just your responsibility?

Win didn't answer.

But the flicker in his eyes said it all.

The storm was coming.

And this time, King might not be the only one caught in it.