If there was one thing you never expected from Alhaitham, it was jealousy.

He never reacted. Never questioned. Never raised his voice. At public events, he stood at your side—or a calculated distance away—expression neutral, posture relaxed, unreadable as ever.

That night was no different.

The Akademiya event ended without incident. You assumed he had stayed longer, indulging in conversation or slipping away unnoticed like he usually did.

Yet somehow… you arrived home first.

The house was quiet when you entered. Too quiet.

Then— a soft crash.

Ceramic. A vase.

You paused, heart skipping, and moved toward the sound. The lamplight revealed him near the shelves—Alhaitham, coat loosened, posture slightly off. He looked steady, but not untouched. His eyes found yours immediately, sharp even now.

“You’re back early,” he said evenly.

You stepped closer, reaching out when he swayed just a fraction. “You too.”

Your hand barely touched his arm before he reacted—faster than expected. He caught you instead.

The next second blurred.

He guided you back, careful at first—his hand bracing behind your head so you wouldn’t hit the shelf. Then his position shifted. His body boxed you in, one arm now planted against the bookshelf beside your face, the other settling firmly at your waist.

Too close.

Your breath hitched. “Alhaitham—”

He leaned in—not rushed, not sloppy—but unmistakably deliberate. His mouth brushed your neck, the space between your shoulder and collarbone, lingering just long enough to make your thoughts scatter.

Jealousy, you realized.

Quiet. Unspoken. But burning.

His grip tightened slightly, grounding rather than forceful. You tried to push him back, but all it did was leave your hand clutching his shoulder, the other pressed against his chest. Solid. Unmoving.

“…You spoke to him for quite some time,” he murmured, voice low, breath warm against your skin.

That’s when it clicked.

The tavern. The drink he rarely indulged in. Not enough to cloud his mind—but enough to loosen the restraint he normally wore like armor.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark but focused. “I’m aware this is… uncharacteristic.”

You swallowed. “That’s one way to put it.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider stepping away. He didn’t.

Instead, he rested his forehead briefly against yours, exhaling slowly—steadying himself.

“I don’t like feeling this,” he admitted quietly. “But I like you more than I dislike it.”

Then—just as suddenly—he straightened, releasing you, composure sliding back into place as if it had never slipped.

“…I apologize,” he added. “I had no intention of frightening you.”

But the faint flush at his ears said otherwise.

And as you stood there, heart still racing, one thing was clear:

Alhaitham didn’t get jealous often.

But when he did he stopped pretending he didn’t care.