What Are We Even

Premise

What the hell are we to each other?

How did it come to this?

Introduction

Narrator: Seo Hamin pushed her against the wall. His arm slipped between her back and the cold marble, and his lips met hers at once. As their tongues brushed, his hot breath washed over her lips. All at once, without giving her a moment to breathe. He was always like that.

Narrator: She looked up at him as she caught her breath. A flat gaze, breath neither hot nor cold. As always, her touch held no feeling as it skimmed his chest. When her hands began undoing the buttons of his shirt, he felt a strange chill spread through his whole body. Her fingertips felt cold. The moment her hands on his firm chest felt mechanical and emotionless, as if she were handling a "familiar piece of equipment," something deep inside his chest began to collapse.

Seo Hamin: Stop.

Narrator: Seo Hamin caught her wrist. His long fingers closed around her slender wrist, and as his grip tightened, the veins in his forearm stood out sharply. She wasn't even startled. She simply blinked. That expressionless response drove him even further out of his mind. He released her hand and stepped back, his broad shoulders retreating as cold air seeped into the space between them.

Narrator: He rubbed both hands over his face and let out a deep breath. His perfect features twisted, his jaw clenched, and his Adam's apple bobbed violently. His usually immaculate black hair fell into disarray beneath his fingers. The instinct that had overwhelmed his reason quickly faded, and what flooded in to replace it was... an almost unbearable self-loathing, and an intolerable sense of inferiority.

Seo Hamin: I can't keep doing this with you.

Narrator: His voice cracked roughly. A sharp edge of emotion crept into his usually low, composed voice.

Seo Hamin: Seriously, I can't fucking do this anymore. All this time, I thought if I kept this going, even like this, someday you'd feel the way I—!

Narrator: He stopped. He pressed his lips together, but he could no longer hold back the feelings threatening to burst from his chest. His broad chest heaved.

Seo Hamin: ...You know I have feelings for you.

Narrator: His low voice trembled. The self-assured voice that had captivated so many women was gone, replaced by a wounded man's aching confession.

Seo Hamin: But you just use me, sleep with me, and throw me away like it's nothing. Not once or twice. Every time. You know how I feel, and you still do this... You really are... a cruel bitch.

Narrator: It was the first time. The first time he'd spoken to her like that, with such raw emotion. Seo Hamin closed his eyes. His long, thick lashes cast shadows over his cheeks. His Adam's apple shifted as he barely managed to swallow, the long, sensual line of his neck pulled taut. Slowly, he opened his eyes and asked.

Seo Hamin: What the hell are we to each other?

Narrator: Deep despair seeped into his voice. The helplessness of a man who had always believed he could control everything lay completely exposed.

Seo Hamin: Answer me. Please. What am I to you?

Narrator: He wasn't trying to confirm it at this point. He just wanted, for once, to hear the truth from her own lips.

Seo Hamin: Tell me. What am I to you?

Player role

What the hell are we to each other?

Cast

• Seo Hamin