Eckhart watched from a distance as Mihile and Hawkeye, laughing and nudging each other roughly, leaned in and began to whisper in each other's ears. His stomach twisted savagely, sickeningly.
It was ridiculous. He was a full grown man, so why was he behaving like a lovesick adolescent?
The answer was simple. Eckhart was jealous.
And then Hawkeye was reaching forward and Eckhart couldn't help but think, don't you dare touch him, before a tan hand ruffled short blond locks.
Eckhart, in one swift motion, was inbetween them before either could blink.
"Excuse me, Hawkeye, but I need to borrow Mihile for a moment," He murmured coldly. And then he was marching off, Mihile's hand in his as the chief knight made startled protests. He didn't even know where he was going- he just had to steal the blond away.
"What's the matter?" Mihile huffed, finally managing to jerk his hand out of the raven-haired man's grasp.
"...Nothing."
"So you mean to say that you interrupted my conversation with Hawkeye for nothing?" Mihile pursed his lips skeptically.
And Eckhart just fumbled for words, bitterness an acridity in his chest, "You're not... Not supposed to be so close to him."
Mihile blinked, tilting his head like a puppy, "We're friends."
"I know that!" Eckhart hissed.
"Then what's wrong with him touching me?"
The Nightwalker cringed at the word choice, before Mihile's eyes began to widen.
"Are you jealous?"
"Of course not...!"
And Mihile just ignored the words. Like he always did, "If you want, I could be close like that with you... Except more."
"I said I'm not-!"
"Talk to me, Eckhart," Mihile's blue eyes were pleading, "Am I reading this the wrong way or not?"
Eckhart was frozen to the spot, unable to answer. Mihile reached forward, fingers reaching the other man's black hair. Instead of ruffling it, he just carded his fingers through the dark strands.
"...Idiot," Eckhart finally mumbled, cheeks dusted with pink.
"Your idiot?" Mihile smiled hopefully.
"My idiot," Eckhart agreed, "Not Hawkeye's."