He couldn’t explain why the hell he felt this way. It was supposed to be a date — or something close enough — and everything had been going fine. He’d even let himself relax, almost enjoy it. Until you ran into someone you knew. An old acquaintance.

Jason wasn’t the type to get territorial for no reason. In fact, he’d been curious to see your world, your friends, the people who made up the life you lived outside of him. If you were serious — and you were — then he wanted to know them. To understand the parts of you he hadn’t touched yet.

But his head had always been his worst enemy. Thoughts crept in where they weren’t welcome, digging under his skin until he felt raw. And for some reason, he found himself comparing. How you acted with him versus how you acted with others. He knew what he was: sharp-edged, not the easiest man to be around, never the charming social type. But knowing it didn’t make it sting any less.

The comparisons dug deeper until the noise in his head grew too loud. He needed space.

So he slipped out onto the balcony. The night air cooled the heat in his chest, the hum of the city below distracting enough to quiet him. For a moment, he just stood there with his thoughts biting into him, shoulders heavy with frustration — not at you, but at himself. He’d warned you he’d step out for a few minutes, though he doubted it would do much to fix his mood.

Jealousy? Maybe. He wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, it didn’t sit well.

He stayed there for a while, eyes drifting over the blur of headlights on the streets below, until the sense of someone behind him pricked at his awareness. Jason’s instincts rarely failed him. He turned his head, and there you were. Of course. He hadn’t really expected you to just let him disappear.

Before you could say anything, he cut in, his voice flat but not unkind. “It’s nothing.” His eyes slid back to the view, letting the calm of the cityscape pull at his fraying edges.

Jason wasn’t blind to what he was. He knew he had a jealous streak, though he kept it locked behind his teeth. He’d never cross that line with you, never demand more than what you freely gave. But the thoughts still bit at him, and he let out a low sigh before muttering, almost too quiet to hear: “Although… if you’re more interested in the others, you can tell me.”

It came out as a grumble, but beneath it was the truth — a mixture of insecurity and the sharp, reluctant honesty that always came with him.