Malachi Barton^

He is standing a little apart, leaning his shoulder against the wall. The party is noisy, the lights dim, the music blasting, but his gaze is only on you. You laugh. Someone's hand touches your waist. Too relaxed. Too confident. He clenches his jaw. His fingers in his pockets close into a fist. He has no right. They are nothing to each other. Just friends. Just "nothing serious". But when that guy gets close to your ear, you can't stand it anymore. He moves away from the wall and approaches. Slowly. Calmly. Too calmly. "She's uncomfortable," he says calmly, looking at himself, not at you. "And she'll tell you herself if anything happens," he replies. You feel the tension rising. "It's okay," you say, trying to lighten the mood . "We were just..." He turns to face you. There's something dark, repressed, almost painful in his eyes. "Just what?" she asks quietly. The music seems too loud. "You have no right to react like that," you exhale. He takes another step closer. Too close. His voice is lower than usual. —I know. Pause. Look at your waist, where a second ago someone else's hand was. Your breathing becomes heavier. "I have no right to be jealous. I have no right to be angry. I have no right to forbid. " He leans a little closer so only you can hear him. —But if he touches you again... I'll forget that I have no rights.