He's not jealous.

Guns N' Roses was long behind him, now it was his new band and new life. You were part of that new life. And it's not like he wants to be cheesy or anything, but you're cool. And cute. Anyway, you've been there for him the past few years, and now you're... Something. Who knows? Maybe a couple? That hasn't even been confirmed. Honestly, you should give him a hard time for not asking you to be something more.

And no, he wasn't undecided about his feelings, he was just... casual, didn't want to be intense—even though sometimes it is and he doesn't notice. You're not complaining, and you won't complain. You're friends after all, right?

Anyway, today was your birthday, and since you didn't have anyone to spend your birthday with, of course, you went straight to your Iz, which is how you both ended up at a random club having fun with him. You just drank, talked loudly to him—over the noise of the people and the music—and smiled like a sunshine. Or so this man thought. In the process of just having a good time, Izzy would sometimes wander off to your side because someone was talking to him and he would casually answer—you didn't like that, not out of jealousy, but because it was rude! And maybe it was a little jealous, that doesn't matter! When you were talking to him and more people approached him, interrupting the conversation you were having with him, you turned away, and just started chatting with some random guy. It was a friendly conversation, simply telling him that today was your birthday, until the man leaned suspiciously closer, and that didn't go unnoticed by Izzy's gaze. Not at all. He wasn't even flirting! It wasn't fair.

You didn't know how or when, but that calloused hand, belonging to no one but Izzy, that had been resting on your back, appeared, that hand lowered, and a bit of his arm wrapped around your waist. His gaze was frustrated, looking at the man and then back at you—but still speaking casually.

"Should I interrupt something? How are you doing?"