“Where are you?”

“Home,” she replied blandly. Her feet dangled off the side of the couch, eyes squinting with scrutiny at the chipped nail polish on her toes. It was an unsightly chartreuse, the kind of swampy green that irked her. The mildest form of hatred bubbled up in her chest as she thought about it. Hatred that wasn't really hate. Green was never her color, though Taeyong always insisted it was. He said it brought out her eyes. Green couldn't bring out her eyes, because there wasn't a wisp, not the slightest undertone of green in her eyes. She found herself wondering if he knew her eyes were black as coal, or if he had even looked at her enough to know. Her gaze moved along with the rapidly ticking hands of the clock across from her, and the last drops of a can of beer were sent smoothly down , stinging a little. It wasn't just the alcohol that stung.

“Where are you?”

“Taxi,” his voice was a mumble, like the very thought of speaking was unnecessary. The rasp in his voice was apparent, he sounded tired.

Seulgi was tired, too. It was near midnight, her eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. It wasn't just tonight- she was tired of everything with Taeyong. Every action, every conversation between them was recited perfectly, robotic. Everything they said clicked together in a way that wasn’t natural, too perfect. To others, they were perfect. A shining example of true love.

It didn’t help the fact that she couldn't live without him, but hated the thought of him. Alcohol burned through Seulgi’s veins as she gathered words to speak, every syllable jumbled up in her head. She wanted to apologize, say she loved him, ask about his day. Instead, her mind went blank. Her string of thoughts was replaced with a teleprompter.

“When will you be home?”

And there was a knowing pause, and something like a sigh.

“Soon.”

☼

The door creaked open. A figure gingerly stepped from the shadows, running a hand through a mess of brown hair. Seulgi glanced at the clock. 3:00 am. Three in the morning was pretty late, even for him. Seulgi wanted to be amused, but she was just tired.

“I’m sorry,” he said, for what seemed like the fifth time that day. He started to explain his apology, but her delicate hand waved it off absentmindedly, staring at him, almost looking for possible clues. Her dark eyes ran over him over and over again, she almost dared herself to find something. Was his hair unkempt, his clothes rumpled? Seulgi tried to imagine all the possible things Taeyong had done without her, she tried to fathom Taeyong with a drink in his hand and a girl in another. She looked up, and instead of seeing a drunken, disgusting man, she just saw a man. Her man. Exhausted, ernest Taeyong, with dark circles under his eyes and hands tucked sheepishly in the deep pockets of his favorite gray hoodie. The same Taeyong who didn’t love her, but tried his best to. Seulgi's mouth slipped into something like a smile, perhaps unconsciously. Trying not to stare at him for too long, she pulled him towards her and his arms wrapped around her waist perfectly.


"I'm sorry," he whispered again. She didn't say anything as he kissed her, her fingers curling into the material of his shirt. His lips were familiar and soft, everpresent and welcoming. They swayed back and forth, and when she rested her head on his chest, the beat was slow and steady. Like everything about him.
 

He was tired of saying he was sorry, she could tell. Seulgi could tell that he was tired of her as he slipped a crumpled daisy behind her ear and let his lips brush against her forehead. The events happened like clockwork, and every gear clicked together perfectly, again. Seulgi feigned a smile, but it hurt to bring her lips back into the bland grin. She sneezed, and Taeyong laughed. The mirth barely lingered in the air, and Seulgi couldn't help but wonder if he'd forgotten that she was allergic to pollen.  She wondered when he'd picked the flower - it was dying now, and the petals drooped.

Seulgi took the flower out later and placed it on the counter. She would never tell him that there were dried petals from all the other ones near it. She didn't want to ruin the one genuine thing he did for her.

☼

The bed was warm and the two were nestled together, her body fitting perfectly into his. It was almost as if they were made for each other, except for the fact that they weren't. That didn't stop her from holding his hand. It didn't stop him from planting each kiss on her lips softly, gingerly. Every action was carefully measured, as if she was porcelain that could break if touched the wrong way. 

“ Hey, you know...” she whispered, trailing off softly

“Yeah?”

“Nevermind.”

He looked at her, She was distraught and her soft skin was turning clammy under his hands. Every kiss was void of emotion, but they were willing it to be there. They wanted desperately to feel something. Taeyong didn't remember when they started falling apart, or if what they had was even love in the first place. Over time, the line between love and the comfortable routine they had was increasingly blurred. Now, they didn't know the difference. He tried to remember what his friend had called them last week: friends who kissed occasionally, he had said. A love years in the making couldn't disappear so fast, but they were clinging to the last threads of it like it was all they had.

“Tell me,” he pushed on, though he wasn't sure he wanted to hear what she had to say.

Taeyong felt something, in a brief moment, something tugging at his heart. She hadn’t been asking him all the questions she wanted to know, and neither had he. He wanted her to ask why he was stumbling home at 3, what he'd been doing. Of course, he would lie to her. They placed an ignorant, blind trust in each other, so Seulgi never asked why he came home late, and Taeyong never asked who Jaehyun was. Lately, they were testing the limits of the trust.

A sigh. A blink. Seulgi’s lips brushed against his neck; impending doom rushed through his body.

“I don't think I can love you anymore.”

Silence. A silence filled with relief, from both sides. Time seemed to slow down, but the world was still spinning. The snow was still falling outside the window. Their hands were still intertwined, and they stayed that way.

“Okay.”

// why do i do this to myself. if you look at the lyrics of "can't love you anymore," they're exactly the same haha. i'm emo rn so i didn't have the heart to finish my fluffy stories. anyway! school year's over, please expect more frequent updates.