My contribution for Laven Week 2017, Day 1: Ace of Spades. Jealousy (n.): Feeling fiercely protective of one's rights or possessions; showing an envious resentment of someone or their achievements, possessions, or perceived advantages.

Many regards to my beta minimumspeed! All these last minute projects … it has to be destiny.

This takes place after Chapter 42 of the manga.

Trying to block out the voices across from him, Lavi's gaze roamed over anyone whose looks dwelled longer than the few seconds of attention justified by the volume of the on-going conversation as they passed their compartment. Not that he really had to keep an eye out for every figure that paused in their immediate vicinity; not when Allen's healed eye would have revealed any hidden Akuma before it even managed to enter the train.

He got it, really. He just needed an excuse.
And it worked terribly.

"Let's see, what's more? Jeryy makes you anything you like and as much as you want. And his food's really tasty, too!"
With a sensation that felt almost violent, Lavi turned to the window instead, eyes itching to linger on Allen's animated gesturing and the sudden vivacity he radiated. The landscape dragging by arduously didn't fare any better in distracting him, the knot in his stomach ever present, roiling and coiling as Allen continued to answer any question thrown at him with the patience of a saint, no trace of his rather quiet, reserved self he kept around unfamiliar people.

He wished the train would speed up a bit, if only so they would rejoin Lenalee and Bookman just a tad sooner. At least Krory could busy himself with them, then.

Lavi started at the petulance of that thought. The childish bite bleeding into it was ridiculous; after all, he wasn't bothered by Allen talking with Krory. What irritated him was that Krory was keeping the conservation exclusively between him and Allen, not to mention that it didn't seem like he was planning to stop hogging Allen like that any time soon.
Of course he understood that he wasn't Krory's first choice to discuss certain things – unlike Allen, Lavi had no experience synchronizing with a parasitic Innocence, for example – but that was no reason to not include him altogether, especially when the conversation had already switched to more general topics like how it was to live at the Order.

As if he wasn't any fun to talk to.

"Lavi!"
His head whipped around. Allen's frown matched the exasperation in his eyes and oddly insistent voice perfectly, like it hadn't been the first time he had been calling his name, but beneath all the indignation, Lavi still thought he could hear a trace of concern.
"What are you doing, spacing out like that?"
The grin he plastered on his face came far too easily. "Ah, nothing, nothing. What is it?"

It was alarming how the strange churning of his heart simply vanished into nothingness as he effortlessly fell back into role, wondering idly if he ever really fell out of it.
Those were Lavi's feelings, not his, right? After all, it wasn't as if he and Allen were really friends, even if playing friends with Allen may have been fun – more fun than with anyone else before. But it was just that: playing.

None of this was real.

And he kept repeating it in his head, over and over again: It was just a play of pretend.

Kept repeating it when Lenalee returned without Allen, frantic and distraught, and Lavi couldn't form any other thought but 'Where is Allen?'
Kept repeating it when Tim's recording of what were so very clearly Allen's last moments made him struggle for breath and the only trace they found was blood – so much blood.
Kept repeating it as pale moonlight fell on the ace of spades in his hand, in the foolish hope that saying it out loud would make it more real, more true: "It was just a play of pretend. A Bookman has no need for a heart."

He knew it was a lie. Knew misery, had seen it in others his entire life, but he wouldn't have imagined it hurting so much, and it was getting worse with every word, every breath, every second, every heartbeat like a black hole eating into his lungs so agonizingly slow that it blurred his vision.

Because for the first time, he felt like he couldn't possibly stay 'Lavi' without 'Allen'.

So he forced the lightness in his heart to go away, to not fall for the taunts, the false hopes which were meant to hurt, to break, when he heard Allen's voice amidst the smoke covering the battlefield. Because he couldn't do this, couldn't bear it, not even for a moment.

And then, he stood before him.
Alive, so very much alive and well, and if Kanda hadn't butted into all that mess sword first, Lavi would have given into the urge to seize him into a crushing hug and bury his face into Allen's shoulder to hide the telltale wetness of his eyes and clasp onto him for dear life.

But as it was, he swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue to never ever do something like that again when Kanda and Allen picked a quarrel at first sight, and said some nonsense about a 'happy reunion' as soon as the trembling in both his throat and heart had calmed down somewhat.
It did nothing to quell the apprehension that settled in his body like a sick feeling to his stomach as he watched them though.

Because he'd never seen this strongheaded, snappy and slightly quick-tempered side of Allen with anyone else. It belonged to him and witnessing it with Kanda left a sour taste of loss in his mouth.

And he wasn't up for loosing Allen any time soon.
Not ever again, in fact.