He was sulking.

Arms crossed, back rigid, his sharp gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the horizon—not that he was actually looking at anything. No, his mind was elsewhere, replaying the sight of you standing by that merchant’s stall, laughing. Laughing. Not just a polite chuckle, but the kind of laughter that softened your eyes, made your shoulders shake ever so slightly. The kind of laughter he thought was his alone to earn

The way you looked at him was unsettling, unnerving in a way that makes his heart stop momentarily — considering how he knew you could see right through him. He felt the weight of your presence, the warmth that always made his carefully crafted composure falter. And still, the image of you smiling at someone else lingered in the back of his mind, an itch he couldn’t quite rid himself of.

Was he jealous? Hardly. The absurdity of it all nearly made him scowl. Why should he care? Why should it bother him if someone else caught your attention, even for a fleeting moment?

He’s Anaxagoras.

“I am not upset.” He scoffs, voice edged with irritation. Oddly, he was moody recently. But seeing how you’re gazing at him knowingly, as if you could see right through his mask, see how he was bubbling in envy. “It’s just that I fail to see what was so entertaining about the merchant you were conversing with earlier.”

The merchant who told you that your eyes reminded him of a particular rare gemstone?

His silence was all the confirmation you needed.

And the one who kept fumbling with his wares because he got flustered?

The subtle twitch in his fingers betrayed him.

“I am not jealous.” He adds, his tone lacking bite. “Hardly. You think too much.”