Loveless

Chapter 6

"Damn... Are you okay, Y/N?"

No, Jisung. No, I am not fucking okay.

You somehow resist the urge to say that.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Daphne follows up, concern in her doe eyes.

You shake your head, taking up position on the singular armchair in the warm sitting room, pulling your knees to your chest. Jisung and Daphne are curled up on the quaint loveseat, a shared knitted blanket over their laps as they scroll through the available movies on the television. The fireplace is lit, gently burning behind a cast iron balustrade. Fringed standing lamps have been left on in the corners, giving the room an amber glow that exudes homely comfort.

Yet you've never felt so displaced.

"You haven't, right?" Jisung clarifies. "Seen a ghost, I mean."

"Jisung..." Daphne rolls her eyes at him, albeit affectionately.

"Well, I'm just saying. You never know with these old houses."

Jisung's light-hearted nature does little to ease you of the mental image seared into your brain. Of your consort caught up in Elena, lips to lips, skin to skin. A stolen moment in a darkened room; for them, a liberation. For you, a nightmare.

"Maybe you should get some fresh air, honey," Daphne says. "Jokes aside, you really do look a little spooked."

"I'm fine," you croak.

The prospect of going outside is almost too appealing in this moment. Too easy for you to run.

You don't see the look the couple shares, though you feel it all the same. Their eyes on you, their gazes of gentle concern and the worry that only draws attention to where you least need it.

"Actually, I'm going to make some tea. Anyone want some?"

An excuse. A reason for you to get out of their general vicinity, because clearly, you aren't as well put together as you thought you were.

You smile brightly, climbing off the armchair with as much aplomb as you can manage. The ache in your cheeks carries through to the kitchen, when you can finally drop the smile and let misery make itself a home on your face.

Though you recognise you shouldn't be miserable, as you fill the iron kettle from the faucet and place it on the gas stove ring.

You should be angry. Seething. Furious.

Angry that Changbin could so readily put the two of you in danger all for the sake of a fleeting tryst.

Seething with the fact that he could be so thoughtless.

Furious that he allowed himself to feel the weakness of a man in love, when so much else is at stake.

Yet you're not any of those things.

Indeed, you find yourself even managing to conjure reasons to forgive, through the pit in your gut and the tightness in your chest. For he is just that—a man in love—and while you're not the subject of his love, you sympathise all the same.

If you found yourself in his shoes, faced with your true love in a situation so easily concealed and indulgently selfish... Would you be able to resist?

Would you be able to fend off the weakness of a woman in love?

You couldn't be sure.

The iron kettle sitting neatly over the bare flames starts to tremor as it heats, so you retrieve a mug from the nearby cupboard, throwing a breakfast tea bag inside. Steam gradually escapes from the metal spout, growing in intensity as it warms further still, boiling the water inside.