June POV:
So yeah, I didn't leave.
He got out of the shower, and there I was—still in the kitchen, munching on food like a fucking anxiety-ridden monster. This time though, it wasn't out of hunger. It was out of pure nerves. I had made myself a mountain of food, way more than anyone should eat in one sitting, but I didn't give a shit. It was comfort. After weeks of god-knows-what, at least this was mine. And if I had to eat my feelings until they didn't hurt as much, so be it.
Then he walked in.
Justin—sweatpants hanging low on his hips, a damp towel still hanging from his neck, hair still wet but drying, and looking like someone who had just woken up from the kind of sleep that comes with Kdrama. He didn't look at me like I was his—he looked at me like I was some nuisance, some fucking interruption to his morning routine.
