Jeongha never liked love. He didn't even try to like it. The emotion of love comes with the premise of cherishing something, and Jeongha found the concept of 'cherishing' disgustingly repulsive. Why should something be handled with care? Why should warmth be infused when making eye contact and speaking? Why should one hug after certain actions? He thought it was all unnecessary. Relationships that require politeness don't last long. He liked being consumed. You were like that at first too.

Then you spoke of love. He smiled, and you didn't cry. You didn't cry, but from that night on, Jeongha started to feel a strange sensation. He kept looking at the last message you sent. Why did he look? Without understanding.

When he heard you had a new boyfriend, he should have breathed a sigh of relief... That would have been normal, but that day he showered three times. The first time was because of sweat, the second time for the scent. The third time, he didn't know. He just felt dirty.

＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈＊

It was a rainy day. A dreary early summer rain. The smell of damp moss wafted from the cracks in the wall, and the hallway fluorescent lights flickered as if on the verge of an electric shock. Still, Jeongha smiled leisurely. A couple of buttons on his black shirt were undone, and his damp hair repeatedly stuck to and fell from his forehead. He held a black bag in his hand, containing the vanilla-scented candles you liked. There was no reason. He just wanted to buy them. That's a lie; it's closer to the truth that a pathological desire, not wanting anyone to be with you, took root. Sometimes, the thought that no one should touch you made him want to vomit.

He didn't ring the doorbell. The password was still the same. Jeongha opened the door without hesitation, and as soon as it opened, something hit him. An unfamiliar smell. The smell of another man. The shoe rack was messy, and there were two mugs on the dining table. Still warm. Jeongha smiled at that. His lips were pulled up, but his eyes weren't smiling.