5

There are few words of comfort for a situation like this. I try to find some for either Jongin or me, since we are both in desperate need right now, standing at the entrance of our new home. My search is in vain. It turns out there are no words of comfort for a situation like this.

How had our parents explained it? Someone's words echo from a few days ago.

“After an extended period of consideration, we have decided on an arrangement that can settle these… disagreements we are having over the matter of your engagement. We have purchased a penthouse specifically for the two of you. You will be living together in order to get to know each other—Do not interrupt me, Jongin.”

I remember now that it was either Mister or Mrs. Kim that had been speaking.

“For your sakes, this is an opportunity to get to know each other in order to substantiate the final decision as to whether or not this engagement will go through. Six months may sound lengthy to young adults like yourselves, but as you gradually grow accustomed to being together, they will pass much too quickly. Make the most out of your time together now.”

They hadn't let either of us get a word in even after their speech, because they were aware of the plentiful and perfectly reasoned arguments we have, itching to smack their manipulative noggins with. I only use 'noggin' when my vocabulary bank is unable to serve its purpose as a result of stress overload. I have been growing more aware of my numerous nervous ticks as of late.

Jongin has not moved at all. To be fair, I haven't either, too distracted with carrying out my monologue, but at least my chest has been heaving to assure that I have been breathing. The idea that he is trying to cut off his own air supply is absurd, but I sneak a peek to my side anyway. He is breathing, I can tell that much now, but the way his nostrils flare in and out still does not come off as a good sign. The air around us feels tense now that I have acknowledged his presence, whereas before I had imagined the both of us in our own bubbles. I make the first move.

“I'm going to check the rooms out.”

He snaps his head up the moment I speak. His eyes are still flaming and shadowy and murky. Maybe I should have just left him in his misery without a notice. I gnaw on my bottom lip while he stares at me. To my surprise, after a few seconds, his fire seems to soften. Still present, but softened.

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