Arrange Devotion | SS

Chapter 46. In the absence of you

"Two is enough…" Joshua’s voice was quiet as his blonde hair fell over his eyes.

He pushed it aside while rummaging through his bag, fingers brushing against the cold edge of his card. The cashier smiled politely as she took it from him, swiping it with a small beep.

"Have a good day," she whispered, though the sound barely registered in Joshua's mind. His thoughts were elsewhere, lost in the muffled world of snow and chilled air.

Gripping his grocery bags, he turned and made his way out into the cold. It was almost winter, the snow thick underfoot, clinging to every surface.

Annoying, yet peaceful.

Joshua placed the bags carefully in the backseat of his car, his breath fogging up the air as he settled into the driver's seat.

The engine hummed to life, and he rolled down the window, resting his hand on the edge. Los Angeles has changed. It felt strange, returning after so many years.

The city was familiar yet foreign, like a memory half-forgotten. He missed it, once. It used to be home before everything shifted—before his family uprooted to Korea when he was just four.

His scowl deepened at the thought. The warm memories of this place had long been tainted by bitterness. He hated the traffic, the suffocating buzz of the city.

All he wanted was to drive home, lock the door behind him, and forget about the world for a while.

His reflection caught his eye in the rearview mirror—blonde hair tousled from the wind, dark circles under his eyes. He looked different now.

He was different.

Joshua bit his lip, letting out a sigh. This was supposed to be for the best, to leave the past behind. But as much as he tried to let go, he couldn’t shake the memory of those whiskey coloured eyes.

A sharp honk startled him from his thoughts. Joshua blinked, gripping the wheel tighter as he merged into traffic, leaving the city behind as he drove toward the small, lonely house that awaited him.

Joshua walked in, unlocking the door with a quiet click before dropping the heavy grocery bag onto the kitchen counter.

He sighed, the weight of the day pressing down on him, before making his way to the couch and collapsing onto it.

A month. Has it really been a month already?

He was healing—slowly, painfully, but healing nonetheless.

When he first returned to this house, paranoia had taken over. The police had inspected every corner, every shadow, for anything strange or dangerous.

Joshua had been on edge ever since, his senses constantly heightened, always watching. He barely spoke to his neighbors, and kept his distance from everyone.

Making friends wasn’t an option.

Trusting anyone wasn’t an option.

Thanks to Jeonghan, he had landed a job at an intel office, but that was it. He kept to himself, a quiet routine of work and isolation. It was safer that way, simpler.

Love—he had learned the hard way—wasn’t for him.

Joshua understood that all too well now. The concept of it, the pain that followed, was something he no longer wanted to touch.

He stared up at the ceiling, feeling the silence wrap around him. Starting over wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be.

The quiet of the house seemed to amplify Joshua’s thoughts, making it impossible to escape. He stared at the ceiling, the soft hum of the fridge in the background the only sound breaking the stillness.