Jealousy - NB Cameron

Cameron doesn’t like to admit to jealousy. It’s not something they’ve felt often before, and they hates the way it bubbles up in their throat to leave a bitter aftertaste in their mouth.

Especially with you. Always with you.

Because, back then, they didn’t have enough backbone and were far too scared to ever open their mouth. Because they couldn’t pull their head out of their ass at sixteen and realize fear isn’t an excuse. They screwed up.

They know that now, though. They screwed up the best thing they never even had before they realized it, and now the ghost of something that never existed haunts them.

Still, it hurts despite the fact it shouldn’t. To see a guy next to you in the lecture hall, leaning down to talk to you, his arm nearly brushing yours…

Cameron wants that touch. That proximity. Anything but cold distance and harsh radio silence.

They’re staring, and they realize that when they jump at your sudden movement. You jerk back, jaw tense, looking ready to lash out at any second.

No one else sees the sudden change. Or, if they do, they say nothing.

The guy reaches out to grip your wrist, blunt nails sinking into your skin, and Cameron can tell a scene is about to be made. That’s…that’s not good. They can’t claim to know you all that well anymore, but you hate attention. You hate the stares that go with it even more.

They slide from their seat as people slowly file in before class, moving with haste to where you sit.

“Because I asked nicely first and you want to be an ass about it,” The guy is saying in a low tone, his eyes narrowing as his grip on you tightens, “Do you really think anyone is believing you? My dad-“

Cameron moves before even thinking. Lightning quick, they reach up and grab the idiot by the back of the neck. It’s something that could be misconstrued as a friendly gesture unless someone looked a little too close.

“You should go sit down,” They whisper quietly, cutting him a sharp glance, “Or, better yet, drop this class.”

You’re staring at Cam, wide eyed and mouth only a few inches away from gaping. The idiot in their grasp opens his mouth again, and Cam sends a spark of electricity down his spine.

Not enough to paralyze, but Cameron feels the instant his knees go weak and he wobbles in the Chosen One’s grasp.

“Understand?” Cameron asks, their voice edging on angry.

He nods, stumbling from Cameron’s grasp before he’s limping down the stairs and right out the lecture hall’s doors.

The immediate aftermath is silent. Only the background chatter and shuffling breaks it, and the quiet is killing them. Your silence is deadly.

Turning to you is the hardest thing Cameron has done in months. Your expression is closed off again; cool and distant, it’s a careful wall constructed to protect you.

“You didn’t have to do that,” You say, bordering on emotionless, but Cam still hears the waver beneath the words.

Their mouth twists, their gaze dropping to the side, “I did. I’m a slow learner, but I get things eventually.”

There’s a twitch in your brows, a wobble to your lips, a visible Achilles heel. You purse your lips in confusion, silently demanding an answer with eyes that haunt.

“I’ve been quiet too long,” Their voice drops further, half ashamed and half embarrassed, “I’m not going to do that anymore.”

Your venom is always at the ready, however, “I didn’t ask for that.”

“You didn’t,” Cameron agrees, “And if you tell me here and now that you never want to see my face again, I’ll do my best to give you that. I won’t let them drag you through the mud anymore, though, even if I never speak to you again.”

They nearly hold her breath. You’re silent, and they think this might be what a spiritual experience is like. At the very least, they feel resurrected.

They offer a small smile, and they could swear your lips twitch in return. The door opens, then, and the professor walks through to sit his things at the podium up front. Cameron is almost mad at the man for a split second, but they move to return to their seat regardless.

They glance back at you, though. You’re looking at them, conflicted, and they’ve never before found so much hope in turmoil.