Anon said:

"I just want one thing. I want you to write a jelous Izumi. I want Izumi to be jelous on someone because Junpei deserves to have at least another woman on him. I know you wouldn't make it cringe or toxic. I need a fic that makes Junpei like the other Frontier boys. You know that they always say Takuya and co. Are popular and things. Why Junpei can't have at least someone else? Please. He's a Senpai! I'm confusing but I hope you can accept..."

And I've tried ahahahah

Context: Junpei and Izumi are 26 and 27 and often meet up and *spend time* together. Some times it can be in Venice, where Junpei is currently living; some other times it could be in Naples, where Izumi is, instead, and is working for a restaurant.

This chapter is set in Venice, during the opening night of the Fenice Theatre's opera season. Izumi has managed to join the catering entourage to experiment venetian cuisine.

XXX

{ Be aware, my Lord, of jelousy}

[-Othello, Act III, Scene III ]

Somehow, she had developed a bizarre fascination for the sloppy, graceless way he would express his immense adoration for her recipes.

As soon as he swallowed his first bite with eagerness, seeing him enthusiastically waving his fork, spoon or chopsticks in the air was satisfying, gratifying, extraordinarily flattering, -and she could state he was an incorrigible flatterer by nature, a pretty skilled one-.

He wasn't obviously a food critic weaving brilliant poetry while eating. He could improvise some opera aria on the spot out of blue, sure, but she couldn't expect expert comments coming from his full mouth, -speaking about that…He should really stop doing it!-. Nevertheless, his opinions were genuine and sincere: she could trust him if he said the tomato sauce needed more or less salt, if he cautiously suggested she had added way too sugar to the cake dough.

Did she really need anything more than that, especially in those special days their busy lives' schedules would be able to finally find a meeting point? Moreover, admittedly, she often felt like food would taste much better whenever they shared a table and were sitting next to each other, no matter if she had been the one who had cooked all those delicacies or not.

In truth, though, that night they would have to settle for standing and having dinner near to a long table decorated with traditional venetian meals…Or better, they would have had to, since Junpei was nowhere to be seen, as if he had faded in thin air, which she wasn't that certain it was possible for someone who was as big as him.

Junpei Shibayama, one of the stars, indeed, the most shining aster of the night, had disappeared after the end of the presentation and all the formalities and applauses that had followed, right during the most interesting part of the event: of course, the buffet dinner.

She had felt a pinch of confusion making her frown, a sort of hunch whispering to her he would have definitely told her if he had needed to go away for a while, go somewhere else to get some air; an excruciating suspicion convincing her to check where he had ended up in. She did know what he was made like, after all!-.

The wind infuriating against the entrance door seemed to be encouraging her tension to keep on hanging onto her senses and muscles, leading her into various rooms of the theatre without success, until she found herself freezing on stairs covered with red velvet, her heels' ticking abruptly dying.

Growing up, she had had to get used to experiencing the ebbs and flows of friendship. She had learnt how to estabilish meaningful connections with other people and show them kindness, but Digiworld hadn't really prepared her for whatever could come next: for the consequences, the undesired eventualities bonding with someone would naturally bring along itself, the painful acceptance of a reality in which she wasn't meant to own a privileged spot in her friends' heart forever. Sooner or later, other people would slip into their lives and carve a path to the throne she had been sitting on for years; conquer the precious place she had always occupied in their soul. It did hurt, especially whenever she was forced to observe that slow yet dramatic change unfolding before her eyes, but she had also understood it was an inexorable process nobody could really avoid.

Junpei himself hadn't apparently managed to be nimble enough to dodge the passage of that unbridled boom. He had been thrown into a dark sea from where he was trying swimming away just because he was unexpectedly shy and also a bit scared of being attracted by pitch black depths.

Izumi didn't think twice before deciding to turn. She acted according to her instincts, following that nagging burning on her cheeks. In order to make it grow fainter, it would have been more logic to follow the direction of the howling bursts, but in front of her, in the middle of the elegant foyer was standing an amiable couple of colleagues, having fun far from the world, far from dishes of baccalà mantecato, sarde in saor, fritto misto and, -how could she have ever forgot those?-, baci in gondola filled with chocolate.

Oh, but she could understand it. She really could. That December in Venice wasn't sparing anyone, not even the little Fenice Theatre. It was so cold the weakest breath could be seen and touched after having been transformed in condensation. In that wintry scenario it was so desiderable and convenient to stroll in the company of someone dear to you, arm in arm, warming the atmosphere with resounding laughters and loud silences, -which were presumably useful to balance the excessive newborn heat-.

Silence was what fell on her shoulders at that moment too, when she had just brought a foot on the higher, soft step. For an instant, she could only hear the frosty mistral crashing onto the marble, resistant coloumns from outside, as if its gusts were carrying shards of pointy ice.

But then…

"Izumi!"

"Itsumi?"

"In realtà si dice Izumi…"

Izumi turned again in surprise, not only due to that thump that had made her bosom shake. From up to down, she noticed Junpei's orbs matching her delightful astonishment. It was enough for her to spot the shimmer in them to crack a smile at him. It might have been an imaginary flash, but she had started giving a value to those as well, starting from a random day in which something, something she couldn't really pinpoint had shifted in her, as undisturbed as a butterfly flapping its wings.

"I have been searching for you!" He exclaimed ignoring the nonsense complaints of the black-haired woman by his side. "Ester wanted to talk a bit and she dragged me here. I'm so hungry now, geez".

"Non è vero! You didn't seem that hungry when we were chatting !" The soprano crossed her arms, gesture that highlighted her prominent shapes. She gave a disinterested glance at Izumi, but she grew absolutely indignant when Junpei made their coats' sleeves part from each other.

He clumsily reached Izumi, a hesitant hop sending his arms around her frame and risking to send her on the floor.

"Didn't you say you wanted to eat that exquisite fritto misto. L'hai detto," The woman's annoyed voice crawled to their ears, failing at bringing Junpei back to her but successfully showing she could speak japanese quite decently. "I've tasted it and the shrimps were divine. You said you trusted my words".

Junpei couldn't repress a series of chuckles murmuring from his chest.

"Of course, I did", He hinted in mischievous amusement.

Izumi didn't let him continue, though. A palm on a hip, she unconsciously exploited the graceful gait years of modelling had gifted her with. Once much closer to the alluring stranger, she smirked at her with confidence but also with a pinch of courtesy.

"One of the cooks is called Itsumi and wants to thank you very much. Grazie mille. I'm glad you have found my fritto misto to your liking."

"È-è una dei cuochi…?! Vestita così?!"

It was evident the sparkling green pencil dress she was wearing for the occasion didn't really emanate the vibes of someone who had been at the hobs, in a quite repulsive sweat bath. The same could be underlined about the lovely knot she had pulled up her silky golden-shaded strings in.

"Yes, she is. And the best one of the crew. Izumi is…Really the number one."

She heard the wind subsiding all of a sudden, paradoxically delighted by the roar of a thunder.

XXX

I'm satisfied of how this turned out, even if it was a feat "not to make this toxic". Jelousy is a tricky feeling and, consequently, topic to write about. I think it's very easy to fall in a toxic route.

Speaking about this more specifically, I do think Junpei would have some female colleagues around him. For sure. In that environment colleagues so often end up together (eg. The soprano Netrebko and the tenor Eyvazov), which isn't a surprise since especially tenors and sopranos always share romantic roles on stage, which obviously make them closer to each other than ever, even on a sentimental level. Still, our tenor is a lovestruck Romeo for his cook, so blinded by the crush he has got on her, so there's no risk in my stories XD (for now, at least BWAHAHAH).

Notes:

• The italian names placed in lists are traditional venetian meals, so nothing I can really translate XD.

"In realtà si dice Izumi": In truth, it's Izumi.

• "Non è vero!": It's not true.

• "L'hai detto": You said it.

• "Grazie mille": Thank you very much.

• "È- è una dei cuochi…?! Vestita così?!: She is one of the cooks…?! Dressed in this way?!