Juni didn't expect it.
He arrived at Elian's campus early, planning to meet him between classes for once—a small victory over distance and scheduling. He stood near the library steps, fingers tucked into his sleeves, scanning the crowd.
Then he saw Elian.
He wasn't alone.
A group of classmates surrounded him—three, maybe four, all speaking at once with easy confidence. Their clothes looked effortless. Their laughter carried. One of them touched Elian's arm briefly as they spoke, casual and familiar.
Elian smiled—not the private softness he gave Juni, but something public: composed, charming, controlled.
Juni felt something hot and sharp flicker through his chest.
Jealousy.
It startled him so much he nearly stepped back.
He hated the feeling immediately—not because it existed, but because it was messy. Because it didn't match the kind of person he wanted to be. Because he didn't know where to place it without turning it into something ugly.
He waited at the edge, watching, telling himself to breathe.
Elian glanced over and saw him. His expression changed instantly—softening, grounding, the kind of recognition that made Juni feel both relieved and worse.
Elian excused himself without hesitation and crossed the steps toward him.
"Hey," Elian said, smiling. "You're here."
Juni nodded. "Yeah. Thought we could eat."
Elian's eyes warmed. "We can. I've got twenty minutes."
They walked together toward the quieter side of campus. Elian reached for Juni's wrist—not pulling, just linking them gently through contact.
It should have soothed Juni. It did, slightly.
Still, the jealousy lingered like an aftertaste.
"They're intense," Juni said before he could stop himself.
Elian glanced at him. "Who?"
Juni shrugged, too casual. "Your friends."
Elian's expression shifted—attention sharpening. "They're not my friends," he said. "They're classmates. They talk a lot."
Juni laughed softly, but it didn't fully land. "You looked like you belonged."
Elian slowed a fraction. "I do belong," he said carefully. "But not because of them."
Juni looked down at the pavement, embarrassed by his own honesty. "Sorry. That sounded—"
Elian stopped walking and turned to face him. "You don't have to apologize for feeling things," he said gently. "Just don't disappear inside them."
Juni swallowed. The flicker cooled, becoming something quieter—something he could hold without shame.
"I don't want to be the jealous type," Juni admitted.
Elian's thumb brushed lightly over Juni's wrist. "Then don't be," he said. "Be the honest type."
Juni breathed out slowly, tension easing.
They resumed walking, still close.
Jealousy didn't mean love was fragile.
It meant it was real enough to provoke fear.
And Juni—quietly, reluctantly—realized he was going to have to learn how to stand in that reality without shrinking.