Jealousy - F Harlow

Harlow isn’t quite sure when she began caring about your well being. She isn’t sure when her heart began beating out of her chest at the mere thought of you in danger. Images of your many deaths flash across her memory; once upon a time, you’d been an annoyance. Now it feels like a pit has opened up in her stomach when she recalls all the ways she watched the light leave your eyes.

It makes her sick.

You don’t have many classes together, luckily. She doesn’t have to lay eyes on you and feel as if someone is ripping every rib from her body one by one until she’s a bloody mess. She knows how it feels to be taken apart physically; turns out the emotional equivalent is just as bad.

However, what hurts even more than seeing you in general is seeing you with someone else. That’s a new development, and one she’s wholly against. Why does she even care? Why does seeing you leave the lecture hall with a guy at your side make her feel like pulling his hair out?

She can’t afford to lose any more hair, after all. The stress already does that for him on a regular basis. She’s already far too used to picking it out in clumps in the shower.

Looking down, she determinedly doesn’t look up as she makes her way to her dorm. You’re in a different building and she’ll part ways with you soon enough. Her eyes keep drifting up, though, and-

You’re shuffling away. Pulling back every chance you get.

Her brows furrow, eyes darting over your posture and the way the man seems to crowd you. She’d thought it over eager attraction at first, but with you trying to get away it didn’t look great for the guy.

She calls out your name, her voice sharper than she intended, but you jerk around in instant with relief of your face. She isn’t sure if she’s grateful or not that you’re happy to see her, but she definitely feels like throwing up.

“Mitchell,” The guy scoffs, “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“I think I’m needed here,” Harlow glares, crossing her arms.

“Clearly you’re as batshit as your mother,” He sneers, “Because I can’t think of one place that needs a broken banshee.”

Well, that definitely brought her up short. Harlow isn’t even sure how to respond, her mouth opening before closing just as quickly. No words escape. Can she argue with sentiment? Not really. She just needs to stay long enough that she can make sure you’re safe-

You spin on your heel, your hand cracking against the guy’s face with a resounding slap. He stumbles back, shocked, and Harlow is pretty sure she does the same.

“Don’t,” You say, voice low as you poke the man violently in the chest before shoving him back, “Talk to her like that.”

“You-“ The idiot snarls, but he pales when your magic crackles at your fingertips.

Unchosen or not, you’re quite frightening when you want to be.

“I’ll get you fucking expelled,” He bites out before hauling off with haste.

You relax before noticing Harlow’s wide eyed look. You give her a small smile, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Hey,” You say, before grimacing at the sound of your own voice.

“You won’t make him leave when you’re uncomfortable,” Harlow says slowly, “But you slap the shit out of him for insulting me?”

“He deserved it,” You shrug, “It just…made me mad.”

Harlow comes to stop at your side, pausing for a moment to enjoy the way the streetlights cast a warm glow around you. She offers her hand, and you’re polite enough not to mention it shaking.

“I’ll walk you back?” She offers.

“I’d like that,” You slip your hand in hers, so warm against her cool skin.

She definitely feels sick again, but she pushes it down and tries to enjoy this while it lasts.