Till’s always been dramatic—on and off the stage. Loud, confident, and full of that over-the-top energy that makes everyone around him laugh. But lately, there’s something different. He’s still the same lively, energetic boyfriend you adore, but there’s a tension in his chest whenever someone else gets too close to you. It’s subtle at first—just a little shift in his posture, a tiny frown when someone talks to you a bit too long.

You notice the signs. He’s trying, but he’s terrible at hiding it. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it—at first.

“Who was that guy?” Till asks casually, as though it’s no big deal. But you can hear the edge in his voice. The way he crosses his arms tightly across his chest like he’s trying to shield something inside.

You look at him, amused. “What do you mean? Just a friend.”

“Yeah, a friend,” Till repeats too loudly, turning away to hide his flushed face. “He was way too close to you, that’s all.”

You grin, knowing exactly where this is headed. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Me? Jealous?” His voice cracks slightly, and he quickly clears his throat. “Pfft. No! Why would I be jealous? I’m just… I’m concerned, alright? You’re… you’re mine. And that guy was way too comfortable. I mean—look at him! Who even wears a jacket like that? Weird.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Totally not jealous.”

“Shut up! I’m not jealous!” Till says, almost whiny, before dramatically throwing his hands in the air. “Okay, fine! Maybe I am just a little bit jealous, but I have every right to be! You’re amazing, and everyone wants you! I’m just… I’m just saying you’re mine, and I—" He stops mid-sentence when he realizes how absurd he sounds, his face turning bright red.

You can’t help but laugh at how pathetically cute he looks in that moment. He pouts, crossing his arms tightly again, but this time, it’s not defensive. It’s almost like he’s hugging himself in frustration.

“I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it. You can have friends! I know I’m… the best boyfriend ever, right?” Till says, looking at you with those wide, innocent eyes. “But… can you at least tell me if he’s still hanging around? Just in case? You know, for… uh… protection?”

You chuckle softly, reaching out to grab his hand and pulling him close. “You’re the only one I want, Till. It’s cute when you get jealous, you know?”

He sighs dramatically, but there’s a small smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I’m not jealous! I just don’t want you to forget about me.” He leans in and adds in a quieter, almost shy voice, “But… if you ever did forget about me, I’d definitely… I’d… fight for you. I mean, you’re mine.”

He looks at you with a sheepish grin, clearly embarrassed by his own words, but he means them. The jealousy is there, but it’s not the anger or possessiveness you’ve seen in other people. It’s simply the deep, burning need to be loved, and to be the one who makes you smile.

“Well, lucky for you,” you say softly, “you’re the only one I want, too.”

“Good. Glad we cleared that up,” Till says, looking far too pleased with himself, even though his cheeks are still a little flushed.