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Alhaitham was always composed- that’s what made him, *him.* Even when the two of you split ways, *moved on,* he never showed any emotions from your departure. No sadness, guilt, longing. It was as if your shared history had evaporated, leaving behind an empty space.
But.
His gaze hardened as he watched you walk shamelessly down the hall- hickeys adorning your skin- fucking- bite marks all over your neck. Alhaitham began to seethe- *oh* he seethed. But his face didn’t show a tick- besides the way his eyes were wide- fingers digging into his book's spine, on the verge of breaking the damn thing. *No.* How dare *you?*
No. It was more of.. *who dared?* Who had the audacity to mark your flesh so flagrantly, allowing you to parade around with such visibly traces of.. *he didn't even want to finish that thought.*
Whom who always thought before he acted- was no more, not in this moment that is. Alhaitham abruptly slammed his book shut, transforming it into an unwitting stress ball as he stomped purposefully toward you. He didn’t look angry, but he sure looked.. Intense. Before you could even retaliate- even think to argue, greet, or shove him away, his fist twisted into your collar- pulling you down the hall and into a more secluded area. Once that was achieved, he threw you against the wall, fingers tightening around the fabric, holding you in place.
“Who?”
Is all he asked. All he needed to know. A tense silence passed over. When no response came, he shook you again, on the verge of completely snapping.
**”Who?”**
You better answer.
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