Lately, Javier couldn't help but notice your constant gaze fixated on Arthur, not on him. It puzzled him—Arthur, of all people.

Javier rolled his eyes, his attention turning back to his guitar, tuning it. Javier turned the peg, his attention occasionally drifted to your conversation with Arthur, daggers in his eyes. Then, an unexpected string snap. "Mierda..." he cursed, clenching the headstock.

Why couldn’t you just love him like you used to?