Chapter 6 Nameless Jealousy

Bima’s chest felt as if it had been struck by a sledgehammer. A suffocating heat tightened around his throat, leaving a bitter taste he couldn't swallow. From across the crowded faculty building lobby, he stared at a sight that made his entire body tense. Arka—his stoic, unyielding Arka who rarely spared a word for anyone—was laughing softly with a senior named Satya. Satya was handsome, popular, and currently radiating confidence as he boldly patted Arka’s shoulder, whispering something that made Arka stay put instead of pulling away.

Bima ripped his gaze away. He clenched his backpack straps until his knuckles turned stark white, his usual cheerful façade shattering instantly. Turning on his heel, he chose to disappear into the dimly lit hallway leading toward the old laboratory corridor—a place usually deserted at this hour. He didn't need to watch that scene for another second. He didn't need to feel his ego and his heart being flayed alive by a jealousy that had no right to exist.

"Bima!"

That deep, unmistakable voice echoed behind him. Bima didn’t stop. If anything, he quickened his pace, his sneakers clicking frantically against the marble floor. He felt utterly ridiculous—like a child throwing a tantrum. After all, they had never officially labeled what they were. They were just ... whatever happened behind closed apartment doors.

Grep.

A large, iron-grip hand clamped around Bima’s upper arm. With irresistible force, Arka yanked him back, spinning his body around until Bima slammed hard against a broad, familiar chest. The scent of sharp, masculine cologne, a hint of athletic sweat, and an immediate aura of absolute dominance instantly suffocated the air around them.

"What is wrong with you?" Arka demanded, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous growl. He didn't loosen his grip.

"Nothing. Let go, Ka. I have a class to catch," Bima lied through his teeth. He refused to look up, completely avoiding Arka’s piercing, dark eyes—the eyes that could always dissect his every lie.

Arka let out a harsh scoff. He didn't let go. Instead, he drove Bima backward until the boy’s spine hit the cold concrete wall of the corridor. In a flash, Arka trapped him, slamming both hands against the wall on either side of Bima's head, creating an impenetrable prison of muscle and bone. The hallway was dead silent, save for the distant, monotonous hum of the air conditioner.

"You’re lying," Arka murmured, leaning in so close his warm breath brushed against Bima’s forehead. "You saw me with Satya, didn't you?"

"Oh, so his name is Satya? You two seem pretty cozy. Good for you. He’s smart, you’re smart. He’s cool, you’re cool," Bima spat cynically, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to sound detached. "And what am I? Just a nuisance who happens to crash at your place."

Arka’s eyes narrowed. But instead of sparking with anger, the corners of his lips lifted into a fraction of a smirk. It was barely visible, but it was more than enough to make Bima’s blood boil. Arka was enjoying this. He was basking in the sight of Bima burning in a fire of his own making.

"Are you jealous, Bim?"

"No! Why the hell would I be jealous? Do whatever you want, with whoever you want!" Bima shoved hard against Arka’s chest, but it was like trying to move a mountain. Arka didn’t budge a single inch.

"Quiet," Arka commanded. The sheer authority in his voice made Bima freeze automatically.

Arka leaned further forward, erasing the remaining distance until their noses brushed. He took a deep, deliberate breath, inhaling Bima’s scent as if anchoring his own sanity. Suddenly, Arka’s hands shifted from the wall. One hand clamped around Bima’s waist so tightly Bima hissed, while the other seized his jaw, forcing his face up.

"Satya was only asking about the lab schedules. Nothing more," Arka whispered against Bima’s trembling lips. "And he will never, *ever* be allowed to touch me the way I touch you. Understand?"

Bima swallowed hard, his heart hammering violently against his ribs. Arka’s dominance was terrifying—suffocating, intoxicating, and dangerously addictive. *Is this the same intensity he felt when he ran my brother down?* Bima’s mind flashed with bitter calculation, even as his body betrayed him, craving Arka's touch.

"But you ... you were laughing with him," Bima murmured weakly. "You rarely ever laugh with me in public."

"Because if I laugh with you in public, I won't be able to stop myself from kissing you in front of the entire world," Arka growled. "I’m not sharing my spotlight with anyone, Bim. Not Satya. Not anyone who dares to look at you for more than two seconds."

Arka didn’t give Bima a chance to process the words. He crashed his lips down upon Bima's in a wild, punishing kiss—a brutal, unadulterated declaration of ownership. There was zero gentleness. There was only a ravenous hunger, a desperate need to grind away any doubt that Bima belonged to him, and him alone. Their tongues clashed in a heated, physical war. Bima let out a low, breathless groan, his hands tangling into the short hairs at the back of Arka’s neck, pulling him closer, letting himself drown in the sensation burning through his nerves.

In one fluid motion, Arka hoisted Bima up, prompting Bima's legs to instinctively wrap around his waist. He pinned Bima harder against the wall, as if trying to fuse their skin right through the fabric of their clothes. Arka’s rough, burning palms slid beneath Bima’s shirt, gripping his bare waist with brutal urgency. Every touch was a brand. Every squeeze was a claim.

"Arka ... shh ... someone's going to walk past ...." Bima gasped against his lips, though his fingers only tightened around Arka's shoulders.

"Let them. Let them see exactly who you belong to," Arka rasped hoarsely.

He ripped his mouth away from Bima’s lips only to attack his neck. He nipped and sucked greedily at the sensitive skin, intentionally leaving a glaring, deep-red mark. A permanent brand that would broadcast to Satya—and anyone else—that Bima was thoroughly claimed.

Bima tilted his head back, surrendering to the assault. The jealousy that had scorched his chest earlier evaporated, replaced by a much darker, all-consuming passion. He could feel the sheer weight of Arka's possessiveness by the way he held him. Arka wasn't just holding him; he was locking him away from the world. He was ensuring no air remained between them.

"I don't like you looking at other people, Bim," Arka whispered into the crook of Bima’s neck, his voice heavy, thick with a dark, stifled emotion. "Don't ever make me do something crazier than this to keep you right here."

Bima let out a fragile, breathless laugh. He tightened his arms around Arka’s neck, burying his face in those sturdy shoulders. *Keep marking me, Arka,* Bima thought, his eyes growing cold in the shadow of Arka's shoulder. *The deeper you fall into this obsession, the easier you’ll break when I pull the trigger.*

"You're completely psycho, Arka," Bima whispered aloud.

"I am. Especially when it comes to you." Arka lowered Bima slowly, but he didn't break the embrace. He held Bima tightly against his chest, resting his chin on top of Bima’s head. It was a fiercely protective hug, as if he were guarding his most precious, stolen treasure from an invisible threat.

In that quiet corridor, under the flickering campus lights, the storm settled into an intense, heavy peace. Bima could hear Arka’s heart thumping loudly—fast and erratic—proving that this unbreakable, athletic guy was just as wrecked by these feelings as he was.

"Promise me," Arka murmured into his hair.

"What?"

"Don't ever try to get away from me. I don't care about Satya, I don't care about anyone else. Your eyes are only for me."

Bima smiled against Arka’s chest, a perfect, comforting warmth spreading through his body. "Yeah, Arka. I promise. I'm only yours."

Arka pressed his lips to the top of Bima’s head for a long, quiet moment—a profound tenderness that stood in stark contrast to the violence of his kiss earlier. A softness reserved exclusively for Bima. Slowly loosening his grip, he looked down at Bima’s flushed face, his eyes filled with an unspoken, heavy adoration.

"Let's go back to the apartment. I'm not letting you go to class looking like this," Arka said, his thumb gently brushing over Bima’s swollen lips.

"Why? Afraid someone else will try to hit on me?" Bima teased, instantly slipping back into his playful, cheerful persona.

Arka didn't answer with words. He merely grabbed Bima’s hand, lacing their fingers together in an unbreakable grip, and pulled him out of the corridor. He didn't care if other students stared. He didn't care if Radit would nag them when they got back. All that mattered to Arka was the absolute truth that the hand he was holding would never be let go by anyone else. The nameless jealousy had found its answer, sealed in an embrace that locked their fates together.