𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 /GXG/

🔸️○Night mist

Na-young hurriedly came to the gate to open it; her apprehensive gaze, looking for someone who hasn't been with me for weeks.

I backed up, slipping on the wet sidewalk, and before I fell, her arms wrapped around my torso, preventing my knees from hitting the ground.

She looked at me with such interest. Perhaps assessing my features? It's the same as I did with her. I was just a few inches from her face, brown eyes, flushed cheeks, full lips, and I thought that if in my place it was Chae won who fell, if that moment didn't turn into a kiss.

So I got up, all embarrassed. Lucky for me, Na-young took it naturally. In fact, I notice that she seems totally oblivious to any positive feelings. Her look, when it doesn't show astonishment or surprise, doesn't bring anything good.

After all, how do I expect her to look at me?

I said that Chae won wasn't with me and that I came here to talk about the message the girl left for me.

Then Na-young invited me in.

The house is so empty without furniture that it emits an echo. And in the kitchen we are: Me sitting at the table, she standing next to the fridge all crumpled with punches.

''She's in a mental health hospital,' she says, looking at both sides of the letter.

''When does she leave there?''

''This weekend, I think. There's graduation, so her father won't want her to miss it."

I nod thoughtfully.

Na-young wipes the cup with a napkin and pours me a hot tea. ''Hope you like.''

''What is it?''

''Omija tea. The five flavor: sweet, sour, salty, bitter, and spicy.'' She smiles. ''Hot tea makes it more bitter, spoiling the other flavors but-''

I assimilate the five flavors while drinking: joy, anger, nostalgia, disgust/contempt, and the spicy, this one that marks me the most when thinking, and looking at Nayeon: jealousy.

''It's tasty'', I repeat in a plaintive voice. The mist rising from the glass between my hands drifts towards the open window.

She silently walks away to check the time. She looks downhearted, lighting a cigarette and smoking. Then she brings her hand to her forehead as if she has a headache.

Seeing at how elegant she is, with her beautiful skin, I feel so depressed.

"Do you like her?" I ask.

''Me?'' Na-young doesn't respond right away. She lets her hair down and lets it fall over her shoulder. ''Yes.''

After making love on the couch, would I be ready to hear a No? Is this what I want to hear? I want to listen? This really hurts.

''So you like her?'' I ask again, squirming in my chair.

Her face takes on a pained expression, and then she turns away from the window, bending down to regulate the flame on the stove where a pot of meat and broth is bubbling. Na-young has her back to me and is stirring her food with a long-handled spoon.

''I have affection for her. I wonder: am I a little guilty of this? I think so,' she says nervously.

''It's not your or Chae won's fault that she's in that place,'' I say bitterly, pushing the glass away, clasping my hands together on the table. ''It's my fault.''

''Your fault?'' Na-young turns to me a little confused. ''You know what I'm talking about? She told you, didn't she? Tell me if I'm wrong? It's okay, I messed up. Alright, I messed up!''