Seunghyun didn't quite understand how he ended up in that place. He didn't really know how long he walked to get to Jiyong's apartment complex, didn't know how many footsteps it took him to get from the door to the kitchen, didn't know how many seconds he stood there before the girl sitting at the small table noticed him and stopped talking. He couldn't seem to measure how much of his drunken heart he spilled out onto their dinner plates before Jiyong's face changed from confused to flat-out angry. It had only just started to dawn on Seunghyun that he might have said a little too much when the other man's yelling hit his senses like rattlesnake venom, but he barely made out a single word of it; it sounded like he was listening to the world from underneath a sea of water. The same could not be said for the bullet of fine white china that exploded into sharp pieces in his peripheral vision, though, in a moment that had been just too quick of a flash for Seunghyun to catch, as the sound was strikingly loud compared to the battalion of words thrown at him and just enough to cause something in his brain to click. A realization, perhaps, of just what he'd done again as yet another one of Jiyong's girlfriends began to try not to cry at the dinner table. Like the several times before, he recognized that as his sign to exit, and that was exactly what he'd done, stumbling out from the wreckage he'd just caused covered in a fine dust of porcelain. He wasn't sure, but he thought he might have heard the woman and Jiyong begin to argue as he walked home. Seunghyun didn't quite understand how he ended up in love with Jiyong.