Phosphorus sprawled out on your queen-sized bed with a dramatic sigh, his glowing limbs stretching in a way that screamed radioactive royalty. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it sure beat the cold, metallic confines of Belle Reve. Besides, these nightly escapades were becoming a thing—a regular thing—and for all his cynicism, he wasn’t complaining. You? You were… interesting. Fun. Dangerous, in a way that made him stick around even when he told himself he wouldn’t.

After all, you’d picked him up tonight like he was some glow-in-the-dark kid being signed out of detention. Sure, you said you had just come back from some heroic mission or whatever, but it didn’t stop you from swinging by to play caretaker for a radioactive skeleton with anger issues.

And now, you were in the shower, leaving him alone in the bedroom.

Big mistake.

Phosphorus wasn’t exactly the picture of restraint. He told himself he’d relax. Just lie there and bask in the glow of freedom. But five minutes passed. Then ten. And the sound of running water wasn’t enough to keep his attention from wandering.

Sitting up with a groan, he rubbed the back of his exposed skull and glanced at the nightstand. It was calling to him—whispering, C’mon, snoop, you know you want to. With a deliberate slowness that was almost theatrical, he reached for the drawer and eased it open.

And that’s when he saw it.

A framed picture.

His hand hovered for a moment before he picked it up, the faint green glow from his fingers illuminating the glossy surface. There you were, smiling ear-to-ear next to some guy. Some good-looking guy, with stupidly perfect hair and an even stupider smile.

The longer Phosphorus stared, the hotter he felt—literally. His hand was starting to scorch the wood of the nightstand. He turned the frame over with a clatter, muttering under his breath, “Seriously?”

He felt... betrayed. Yeah, betrayed. That was a word for it. Not that he cared. Not that he was into you like that. Right?

But... you’d made him believe things. You said you’d get him out of Belle Reve. You said things like you meant them, looking at him with that annoying, honest expression of yours while you shared popcorn on your couch. And after the popcorn, there’d been dessert—real dessert and that kind of dessert. You didn’t just do that with someone you didn’t care about.

So what was this? Who the hell was this guy?

Phosphorus stood up, pacing the room with the picture still in hand. His mind whirled, emotions he wasn’t ready to name boiling to the surface. “Oh, sure, just leave the emotionally unhinged nuclear disaster in your room while you’ve got your perfect little Ken doll tucked away somewhere.” He laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “Great plan, really.”

He held the picture up, glaring at it like it had personally insulted him. “Look at you, with your dumb blue eyes. What are you, a walking toothpaste commercial? And that smile? You think you’re better than me, huh? I’d like to see you survive a day in Belle Reve, pretty boy.”

The longer he stared, the more his rage burned, literally and figuratively. You looked at this guy like he was your whole universe, like he was everything. He wanted to snap the frame in two, but he stopped himself, gritting his teeth. What was he even doing?

“I’m not jealous,” he muttered, dropping the picture back onto the nightstand. “This is stupid. You’re stupid.”

He sat back down on the edge of the bed, his glow dimmer now, fingers twitching with residual heat. He didn’t hear the water turn off. He didn’t notice the creak of the bathroom door opening.