#dortmund

jobe's calling...

you smiled automatically and answered.

“hey ba–”

“who’s that?”

his voice cut straight through your greeting.

you blinked. “what?”

“the guy in your story.”

you let out a small laugh. “oh. that’s adam.”

silence.

“adam.”

the way he repeated the name made your smile fade.

“yeah,” you said slowly. “my new friend from class.”

“your new friend.”

“jobe…” you adjusted your bag on your shoulder. “why are you saying it like that?”

“because since when do you have some new guy sitting across from you laughing like that?”

you stopped walking.

“he’s literally just a friend.”

“then why am i finding out from an instagram story?”

his tone was sharper, edged with something unfamiliar. jealousy.

you frowned. “because i didn’t think i needed to announce every person i meet.”

“every person? no. but the one sitting alone with you?” he scoffed quietly. “maybe.”

“it wasn’t a date.”

“did he know that?”

the question irritated you instantly.

“seriously?”

“i’m asking.”

“and i’m telling you he’s just my friend.”

you could hear him breathing on the other end, short and tense.

for months, jobe had always been calm, easygoing and was the one who reassured you when distance felt too heavy.

you had never heard him like this.

“you looked happy,” he said finally.

you stared ahead. “what?”

“in that story.” his voice dropped lower. “you looked happy with him.”

your chest tightened unexpectedly.

“jobe…”

“i’m here trying to make this work from another country, and some guy gets to sit in front of you, make you laugh, be there in person–”

“so that’s what this is,” you cut in. “you’re jealous.”

“shouldn’t i be?”

his honesty stunned you into silence.

the whole city kept moving while you stood frozen with your phone pressed to your ear.

“he’s just my friend,” you said more softly this time.

“maybe.” his voice was tight. “but i hate that he gets moments with you that i can’t.”

all your irritation faded at once because beneath the jealousy, beneath the sharp words, was something rawer. he missed you.

you leaned against the wall beside the sidewalk, exhaling slowly.

“you could’ve just said that.”

he laughed bitterly. “apparently i chose to lose my mind instead.”

despite yourself, you smiled.

“a little.”

the line went quiet and then he spoke again, softer now.

“i trust you.”

“i know.”

“i just don’t trust the fact i’m not there.”

“adam is nothing to worry about,” you said. “he’s my friend.”

“and me?”

you smiled to yourself. “you’re the idiot getting jealous over an instagram story.”

“still your idiot?”

“unfortunately.”

“good.”

you could hear the smile in his voice now.

“next time,” he said, “warn me before you post things that ruin my mood.”

“next time,” you replied, “communicate before acting insane.”

“can’t promise that.”

“jobe.”

“fine,” he muttered. “i’ll try.”

you started walking again, lighter than before.

“good.”

“and send me a picture.”

“why?”

“because i miss your face.”