Jealousy is a deadly feeling.

It constantly irks at your senses, feeding you with venomous thoughts and poisoning feelings; the sensation hissing through your ears, constantly lingering on your shoulders — the clear weight of an envious snake. The many times of when such a feeling was concealed from the features of your expression were uncountable. A continuous cycle you'd never gotten adapted to. Perhaps, tonight was your breaking point.

Metal had never looked any more enticing to you. The fabric adorning the handle presenting the comfort it'd gift the holder upon landing a shot on a clear target. A gun truly held beauty once pondered upon. You were seconds away from ripping it out of your boyfriend's pocket to reprimand the woman flirting in front of you. Had it not been for his hand resting along your thigh — you would've done so long ago.

Laxus didn't take you seriously. Unless he wanted to. His charm was incomprehensible — born to be a ladies' man. The simple thing that kept him from resembling the mafioso he was, was his charm of being a gentleman. And like a typical chick, as you believed it, you'd been swept by his facade. You loved a handsome face — it was frankly inevitable.

He quirked a brow at the sight of your narrowed gaze once you both left the bar; feigning ignorance as he simply lit the cigarette resting between his lips — lighter held between his gloved fingers. It took him a few seconds to acknowledge that you weren't willing to speak unless he spoke first.

"She was beautiful," the rare description leaving his lips clearly aimed to pierce you. He took pleasure into being a jerk — the idea certain by the subtle lift from the corners of his mouth — dimples catching your attention just like any other time. "Melanie, was it?" He added, glancing in your direction to watch your reaction.