"I'm tired of you, Kwon Jiyong," Seunghyun had said over their routine morning coffee.

Sunlight peaked through the window and flooded a square of the dim kitchen. Jiyong suddenly was trapped in a hyper-sensitive state. The light seemed too bright, the table needed dusted. Its rich, mahogany brown glowed under the light plainly, specs of white sticking to the surface. His pale hands curved daintily around the mug of his coffee, suddenly smelling too sweet for his taste. Seunghyun preferred his coffee stronger than he did. He'd always let him have the coffee the way he wanted it. Except, this time, Seunghyun made it the way Jiyong preferred it. And Jiyong was starting to realise why.
His eyes stared absently-mindedly at the wet ring of the bottom of his mug, making a lazy, unfinished circle in the wood.
He kept his eyes to the steam of the mug, trying to ignore Seunghyun's presence.

In the corner of his eye, he could see Seunghyun's mug on a napkin, going cold.

"Why's that?" he said finally.

"This is enough for me, you're too much," he said, rising from his chair.
"Your personality doesn't suit mine," he added, calmly picking up the cold mug of coffee from the table and pouring it down the sink.
"And I'm drained of you, I've realized that you don't mean much to me, anymore. I think it's best I get going with my life. Thank you for being a part of it as long as I had let you, but it's boring now," he said, pursing his lips as he leaned by the counter.
His voice usually brought so much comfort.

Even now, it seemed like a gentle kind of destruction.
As if it were done with the correct tools, rather than a child angrily slinging a hammer into him.
No, Seunghyun pried into his chest, screwed out the ribs, and precisely sliced out his lungs.

At least it felt that way, anyway.
He hasn't let out the breath he took in since Seunghyun had first spoken.
It started to burn in his chest, but now, it seemed as if he showed any sign of life, Seunghyun would strike again.

Seunghyun seemed to realize this, taking note of his silence.
"I've packed what I needed for now, I'll be coming by next week to pick up the rest. I'm staying in a hotel nearby, but I'd prefer that you wouldn't be here when I went to gather my stuff."

The trapped breath in Jiyong's chest singed the edges of his ribcage, demanding release. He fought the urge to let it out until his eyes caught the carpet of the hallway from the door to the kitchen molding around Seunghyun's dress shoes as he walked out.
Only after a few moments of silence, he dared to release it. That breath tasted toxic in his mouth, of blood and heartache. His coffee too, had gone cold, but he decided against dumping it out. Instead, he traced around the edge of the cup, the caffeinated liquid making its way to dampen his fingertips.

He heard Seunghyun's car start up, stay idle for a moment, then drive off.
Jiyong then, felt the heaviest silence he's had.
His gaze traveled from the chair Seunghyun had been sitting in, to the filling shoeprints in the carpeting, making their trail down to the door.

His palms suddenly was stricken with a wet heat. Jiyong realized that he had started to cry, yet he felt numb.

Is this the way it was supposed to be?