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Summary
“We both stroke his ego in different ways, I guess,” Felix says, his voice falsely bright. “It’s only -”
Felix stops, reaches for his wine glass with an unsteady hand, gulps down the remainder. It’s evidently not enough to soothe his emotions, because he feels blindly for the bottle of wine next, takes a swig from that as well.
The moon shines through the glass veranda doors, bathing the kitchen in a cold light. Jisung can see Felix’s eyes glittering.
“I guess,” Felix says, his words slow, measured. His voice is gravelly. He’s not putting on a show, the act of being the perfect, spoilt, pampered hybrid pet, the performance he always puts on in front of Chan. He’s the most serious Jisung has ever seen him. “I guess I thought I was different. I thought he loved me. My mistake.”
Oh.