Chapter Text
As he woke, the warm morning light filtered through the curtains. Suho frowned slightly as he adjusted to the brightness.
Then he remembered that he was not waking up alone. Beside him lay his husband, sleeping peacefully.
He admired his features as though trying to imprint them into his memory all over again. Suho's eyes traced the dark lashes resting against his cheeks, the softness of his slightly parted lips as he breathed, his relaxed brows, and the slightly disheveled hair that revealed part of his forehead. Sieun was sleeping soundly after days of turmoil, and Suho turned slightly to observe him more closely.
Sieun was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his miserable life. Perhaps Suho had decided that from the very moment their gazes first met, that there would never be another person capable of captivating him in such a way.
Suho stared at the space separating them across the mattress. For years, he had slept with Sieun in his arms, he had memorized the feeling of Sieun's weight against his body, the unconscious way he sought refuge in his chest, the way their hearts seemed to beat as one, his warmth, the way his fingers would cling to him as though there were no safer place in the world than there.
Now it felt like a privilege that belonged to another lifetime.
Suho felt that ache in his chest, one he had ignored until now. He swallowed hard, but despite everything, he slowly slid his arm across the sheets, only to move closer, as though he needed reassurance that Sieun was real. His fingers barely brushed the fabric of his shirt before curling into the material at the small of his back, and with extreme care, he pulled him a few inches closer.
When there was only a little less distance between them, Suho slowly shifted closer as well, his heart beating faster.
They were still far apart, but it was enough. For a few precious seconds, Suho allowed himself to enjoy it, appreciating him from a closer distance.
He had missed him.
And even with him right there beside him, he missed him even more.
Carefully, he tilted his head and placed a kiss upon his forehead. Not where he truly wished to kiss him. Only his forehead, in an innocent gesture that felt painfully insufficient for everything he carried inside his heart. Sieun's warm breath brushed against his skin when he pulled away.
For a moment, a selfish part of him wanted to remain there. To hold him. To bury his face against his neck. To pretend nothing had changed. But it was not as though a marriage could simply return to what it once was after discovering that your husband belonged to the most powerful mafia family in the country, and that everything he did from now on could ruin them both.
To be honest, Suho did not feel worthy of Sieun. Then again, when had he ever truly felt worthy? He had worked tirelessly throughout those six years to become someone deserving of him, deserving of calling himself his husband, his life partner. And now that dream felt farther away than ever because he could hardly convince himself that he deserved him after all the lies he had chosen to hide.
Not after all the secrets concealed behind every smile, every promise, every whispered "trust me."
Sieun's forgiveness was something he would have to earn, if it ever came at all.
Suho wasn't exactly a pessimist. Hell, if he had to put his neck in a noose, he’d let Sieun decide whether to cut the rope or keep it tied. Whether to loosen his grip or pull it until it snapped. He’d take all of it for him. Because, fuck it, he knew he didn't deserve him, but he was selfish enough to want to claim him in a thousand different ways anyway.
Suho had grown up beneath the shadow of a man who mistook cruelty for strength. Since childhood, he had been taught that pain was a tool, that fear was an unforgivable weakness, and that a person's life was only worth as much as the purpose it served.
He still remembered the day he found a wounded dog dying at the side of the road. He had cried from sheer helplessness, like any small child would, but his father had placed a gun in his hands and ordered him to end the animal's suffering. The gunshot lasted only a few seconds; the memory lingered for years. Because it was not the death of the dog that haunted his nightmares, but the expression of approval he had seen on his father's face afterward.
From that day forward, every punishment, every sickening trial, and every bloody lesson shaped something inside him until he became convinced that he had been born for one purpose alone: to survive, to obey, and to win.
And then Sieun appeared.
Not with threats or demands, but with a patience Suho had never known. He never tried to control him. He never demanded proof of his worth. He simply remained at his side long enough to teach him something no one else had ever cared to show him: that life could hold meaning beyond violence. That quiet mornings existed. Shared dinners. Arms that sought not to control him, but to support him.
Sieun did not win his heart through force; he did it with a tenderness so constant that it eventually broke through every wall his father had built inside him.
Suho stopped seeing himself as a weapon destined to break for the sake of someone else's ambitions. Because of Sieun, he began to imagine himself as a man. A husband. Someone worthy of building a family and remaining within it. Sieun was the first person he ever allowed himself to love, and the first person who loved him in return. He had always believed that was only possible as the ordinary Suho, the young man without problems, without a disturbing past, without blood staining his hands. He had thought that was the only version of himself anyone could love.
With quiet tenderness, Suho took hold of the blanket that had slipped away during the night. He carefully pulled it back over Sieun's shoulders, making certain he would not be cold.
He rose from the bed, and before leaving the room, he turned back one final time toward the sleeping figure resting among the sheets. His expression softened. Despite everything he had caused, despite every wound he had inflicted, he would continue protecting Sieun.
Even if Sieun came to hate him.
Sieun's awakening was far from pleasant. Once again, the space beside him was empty.
His heart dropped straight into his stomach as he bolted upright and jumped out of bed, not even bothering to put on his slippers.
Had Suho seriously left him again without saying a damn thing?
He threw open the bathroom door. Empty. He hurried out of the bedroom and checked the kitchen. Fucking empty.
"Suho?" he called out, his voice echoing through the penthouse as he moved from room to room. There were only two more upstairs.
Both empty. Where was everyone?
He shoved the sliding glass door open, and the icy air immediately sent a shiver through him.
Outside, he spotted his bodyguard leaning against the fence, a cigarette hanging from his lips.
"Sieun-ssi."
"Where's Suho?" Sieun cut in before the man could say anything else.
Wooyoung said nothing. Just silence, and that only made the panic rising in Sieun's chest worse.
"Where is he?!" he shouted this time.
"Relax," the man replied calmly.
“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down,” Sieun snapped, stepping toward him. Despite the stark contrast in their heights, he commanded the air around them, his presence a suffocating shadow as he invaded his personal space. “I am asking you where my husband is.”
Wooyoung’s throat worked in a sharp, dry swallow. He lowered his cigarette, crushing the glowing ember against the metal railing until it died.
“He said he was going somewhere,” he muttered, his voice strained.
“Somewhere? Where exactly?”
“How should I know?” he retorted, his frustration finally fracturing his composure.
“I don’t know! You work for him!” Sieun screamed, the sound sharp and jagged in the quiet. God, he was losing his mind.
The sound of the front door swinging open cut through the penthouse like a gunshot. Sieun spun around instantly.
Without realizing it, he was already rushing toward the entryway, nearly stumbling in his haste. The fear was still hooked into his ribs, refusing to let go.
The door creaked fully open.
And there was Suho.
He was dressed in a classic puffer jacket and sweatpants. The biting night air trailed briefly behind him before he stepped across the threshold.
Sieun let out a jagged, heavy exhale.
His body tipped forward by sheer inertia, as if he had just run for miles without stopping—as if he had been holding his breath for hours.
He was there. He hadn’t vanished.
Then, he noticed the bags Suho held in one hand.
Suho closed the door behind him and looked up. A flash of surprise crossed his face when he found Sieun standing there, but a second later, his gaze dropped.
He locked onto Sieun’s bare feet, which were flushed red, likely frozen.
Suho’s expression hardened. Damn it, Wooyoung. Was he not even capable of turning on the heating? He cursed him internally, letting out a sharp, irritated sigh.
Without a word, he grabbed a pair of slippers resting by the entrance and placed them before him.
Sieun didn’t even glance at them.
“Where were you?”
Suho blinked.
“Where were you?” Sieun repeated, his voice cracking slightly. He wasn’t asking where he’d been this morning; he was asking about the days of silence. The days of absence.
He was still terrified.
Suho saw it immediately—the tension in his shoulders, the sharp line of his brow.
His expression softened, and without answering yet, he set the bags on the floor and knelt before him.
Sieun opened his mouth to protest.
“Suho—”
But Suho had already taken one of his feet into his hands. His skin was cold—too cold.
“You’re going to get sick,” he murmured with an almost exasperating calm. He slid one of the slippers onto Sieun’s foot and repeated the gesture with the other.
He gently rubbed the chilled skin of his ankles with his thumbs, trying to coax the warmth back into them.
“Don’t change the subject,” his husband replied.
“I’m not,” Suho said, rising to his feet again. “I went to get fried chicken.”
May the heavens forgive him, but Sieun felt capable of shoving a piece of fried chicken straight up Suho’s nose rather than thanking him. His irritation was clearly written all over his face, prompting Suho to continue, a soft, indulgent smile tugging at his lips.
“You said you wanted to eat it with me last time,” he explained innocently.
“The same time you lied to me over the phone? Oh, yeah, I remember that clearly,” Sieun crossed his arms, shaking his head with disdain.
“Can we just eat in peace?” Suho requested, shrugging off his puffer jacket.
Sieun stalked after him, shadowing his every move as he set the bags down onto the marble countertop.
“We can eat in peace, and then you are going to tell me everything—or better yet, I know, you’ll wait for me to take a shower and tend to the damn plants,” Sieun exclaimed, his eyes widened beyond their usual limit, betraying the volatility simmering beneath his skin. “As if we were still in our house—which, for your information, is a place you kicked me out of!”
“I am simply suggesting that we talk while we eat,” Suho countered, his voice remaining maddeningly calm as he portioned the crispy chicken into bowls.
“I don’t want to eat right now. Who knows? You might be trying to poison me now that I actually know who the fuck you are,” he hissed.
The words hung in the air, sharp and poisonous, causing Suho to freeze mid-motion. He slowly lifted his gaze to meet his husband’s enraged face.
“You really think I’m capable of that?” he asked.
Sieun didn't want to push it any further; he knew him, knew that subtle shift in the air, and he wasn't about to tug on that rope any harder.
“I don’t know,” he whispered, barely audible. It was all the explanation he needed.
Suho took a piece of chicken and bit down hard, devouring the whole thing in one go, then held the bone out to Sieun, who watched, stunned.
“No poison. See? Now eat.” He slid the bowl toward him.
Sieun clenched his jaw, forcing a shaky breath into his lungs; the air burned like acid in his throat as he stared down at the bowl. Okay, relax. He wasn't about to have a full-blown cortisol spike just because his husband was sitting there, acting ridiculously calm and attentive as if nothing was wrong.
Right. Calm. He could do that. He’d save his energy to scream at Suho later.
He grabbed a fork, his movements stiff and mechanical, and shoved a bite into his mouth.
“Good, right?” Suho smiled, his cheeks full.
Before Sieun could even swallow, his phone blared from his pocket—a sharp, jarring noise that made him jump. He didn’t even realize he still had the damn thing on him, but he reached for it out of pure habit.
Sieun cast a fleeting glance downward as his boss’s name illuminated the screen. It was supposed to be his day off according to the calendar, so why was he calling now? Had something gone wrong? He shot a wary look at Suho, who watched him with that unreadable, tender expression, before swiping to answer.
“Yes?” Sieun’s voice came out brittle.
“Morning, Sieun-ssi,” his boss muttered, his voice sounding a bit shaky. “I need you to confirm that email HR sent over this morning.”
Sieun finished chewing and cleared his throat.
“I apologize,” he said, setting his chicken back into the bowl while Suho’s gaze remained fixed intently upon his face. “Could you remind me which email you are referring to?”
“It is regarding your thirty-day unpaid leave of absence. I trust you’ve had a chance to review the attachment? It requires your digital signature by this afternoon at the latest.”
Sieun’s breath hitched, the world tilting on its axis.
“Unpaid… leave? Sir, there must be some mistake. I never requested—”
“It’s just protocol,” his boss cut in, his tone sharp and dismissive, as if desperate to terminate the connection. “We require confirmation by five. Good day.”
The call ended with a sudden, clinical click, and Sieun stared at his screen as if the device had struck him. Cold dread coiled in his gut, followed immediately by a surge of white-hot, blinding rage. He did not even need to look up to know who had pulled the strings.
“Did you request a thirty-day leave of absence from my workplace?” he whispered, his breathing growing dangerously shallow.
Suho remained effortlessly relaxed, leaning back in his chair with an air of composure that only fueled the fire.
“My men merely paid them a visit to ensure you were granted thirty days. Do not worry; they have no idea that you are my husband.”
The implication hung in the air—he had threatened his superior to force this leave. These were the first consecutive days of rest he had known in an eternity, yet a voracious, consuming anger ignited within his frame.
“You have no right to interfere with my professional life,” Sieun surged to his feet, his sudden movement startling Suho into an immediate, defensive recoil. “You cannot ruin my life like this!”
“You aren't being fired! I just thought you needed the time, darling. We have so much… catching up to do.”
That smug, velvet-clad audacity was the breaking point. With a feral growl that sounded entirely out of place in their kitchen, Sieun grabbed a piece of cold fried chicken from his bowl and hurled it with every ounce of his pent-up frustration.
Suho reacted in a heartbeat. He jumped out of his chair faster than you’d think, and the piece of chicken sailed past his head, smacking against the wall behind him.
“Woah, okay, calm down," he said, raising his hands as if shielding himself from a wild animal. "It was necessary.”
Sieun, in his fury, was far more lethal than any beast. He rounded the kitchen island, stalking his prey. Suho was forced to retreat into the living room, his back eventually colliding with the sofa. His eyes were wide, fixed on Sieun, who stood panting, his hand already searching for the next projectile. He found one—a decorative cushion—and hurled it with lethal intent. Suho caught it in mid-air with lightning-fast reflexes.
“Necessary?” Sieun hissed “Getting me out of my house and taking my fucking job was necessary?” He confronted him, though Suho kept a hell of a lot of distance between them, staying on guard in case anything else came flying his way.
He loomed before him, his posture rigid with indignation, while Suho remained wary, his eyes tracking every movement in case another object came flying his way.
“Alright, baby, listen—I figured everything going on right now was just too much for you to keep going into work,” he said, his voice maddeningly smooth.
Was there nothing sharp in the room? A fucking knife? A pen? Anything? Because shit, Sieun wanted to stab him.
“Without even asking me?”
“What the hell is going on here?” Humin asked, suddenly walking into the room with Seongje right behind him.
The two of them showing up together was a massive surprise—they’d probably run into each other at the entrance —but it didn’t matter. Sieun’s eyes were locked on Suho like a cornered animal ready to snap.
“Sieun, I heard you’ve requested a month’s leave from your work,” Humin noted. At that moment, Suho shot him a pleading look, waving his hands in a desperate attempt to silence him. “Does this mean you’re no longer going to investigate the case?”
“It's obvious that someone was determined to pull me from the case at any cost,” Sieun growled, his fingers curling around yet another cushion.
Humin sensed the palpable tension between the two, his brow furrowing in confusion. Seongje, however, merely sighed, his attention drawn toward the lingering scent of fried food wafting from the kitchen.
“Wooyoung! Let’s eat,” he called out a moment later, his tone dismissive and entirely indifferent to the brewing storm in the living room.
“I didn't wanna barge in while you two were screaming your heads off,” the bodyguard said, just as he and Seongje popped up in the doorway, both of them holding pieces of fried chicken.
“If you’re not involved in this case anymore, then you’re not in any danger,” Humin said from where he was standing, watching as Sieun dropped the cushion back onto the sofa.
“Yeah, but we’re still married,” Suho fired back, taking a single step toward Sieun, who just glared at him, his brow furrowed in annoyance.
“If it’s such a fucking nightmare, just get a divorce,” Seongje interjected, taking a bite of his chicken. “You don’t need to be living together to keep each other safe. Your mother is in Italy, isn’t she?” He turned his focus to Suho. “Then just pack him off and send him away.”
Sieun and Suho held each other’s gaze, a silence charged with static electricity hanging heavy between them as Seongje’s blunt words echoed off the walls of the room. Sieun finally looked away, unable to endure the suffocating intensity of those eyes he knew far too well, his focus drifting down to Suho’s hand.
There, gleaming with a metallic luster that seemed to weigh a thousand tons, sat the wedding band. It was a symbol, an invisible chain that bound them together even as the world around them splintered into ruins.
Divorce Suho? He hadn't realized that was even an option.
He snapped his gaze upward, searching his husband’s features for some flicker of agreement with Seongje’s proposal. Was he truly considering it? Was he prepared to cast him aside just to be spared from his demands?
"Just—let’s take a seat, and let me explain what is happening," Suho said, his voice taut, as if every syllable were a splinter tearing at his throat, forcing him to confront a bitter reality. "You will be the one to decide what happens to us."
"Are we actually getting a divorce?" Sieun asked, his voice fracturing with disbelief. He could not process that Suho—the possessive, protective man who had always dictated the terms of their lives—was offering him such an opening. "You are truly going to let me decide?"
Suho gave a slow, solemn nod, already resigned to whatever fate Sieun would choose. He took another step, closing the distance between them, and lowered himself onto the sofa.
Sieun completely forgot the other guys were even in the room when Suho grabbed his hands and gently pulled him down onto the sofa. The contact, warm and firm, brought some life back into him, and he felt his shoulders finally drop from their rigid, defensive state.
"Everything went to shit two days ago," Suho started, his voice low and raspy, sounding absolutely drained. "They murdered the Chinese mob boss's eldest son. It was a direct hit—they ambushed him while he was in his car."
He paused, his thumbs tracing slow circles over Sieun’s knuckles like he was desperately looking for some kind of anchor.
"We were already walking on thin ice with them because of the hotel deal; the tension was insane, and there was way too much bad blood on the table. But the worst part isn't even the hit itself—it’s the message." He took a ragged breath, staring down at their joined hands, his thumb fidgeting with Sieun’s wedding ring. "Someone left clear warnings at the scene, and they used our family’s signature. It was a perfect setup. Every single eye in the underworld turned right on us."
Sieun felt a shiver run straight down his spine.
"They attacked my dad right after he landed in the country, while he was in a private meeting. They shot him, Sieun. That’s why you didn't hear from me, why I went silent. He’s stable, but he put me in charge of finding the traitor." Suho’s knuckles went white as he pressed his palms into Sieun’s when he tried to pull away just an inch. "Someone threw us to the wolves. Someone sold us out to the Chinese just to watch us burn."
Suho squeezed his hands tighter, forcing Sieun to look him in the eye. "They all know I’m fully involved in the family now, and that I’m calling the shots until my dad’s back on his feet."
Sieun felt a tidal wave of emotions—fear, mostly, knowing Suho was being hunted and that this wasn't going to end until they took out the people coming for them. Suho tugged at his sleeve urgently, needing to keep his focus.
"I’ve been chasing shadows for the last forty-eight hours. I didn't even remember I had a damn phone in my pocket until things calmed down enough for me to come find you." His expression softened, heavy with an apology he couldn't quite find the words for. "I didn't ghost you because I didn't care, Sieun-ah. I did it because if the traitor knew you were my weakness, they would’ve made you the main target just to get to me. I’m sorry... fuck, I’m so sorry for leaving you hanging like that."
The rage that, just a minute ago, had been burning in Sieun’s chest like crazy, just vanished, replaced by a cold, hollow feeling that turned into a sharp, aching dread. Seeing Suho like this—this man on the verge of a breakdown, his eyes begging for forgiveness, his hands trembling as he clung to him—every bit of resentment he felt just completely fell apart.
Sieun let out a long breath, trying to keep it steady even though his heart was pounding so hard against his ribs he was sure Suho could feel the chaos. He thought about those forty-eight hours Suho had been out there in the line of fire, where he could’ve been seriously hurt while Sieun was sitting in the safety of their house.
Shit, he’d been so pissed off and felt so betrayed that he hadn't even stopped to check if Suho was still in one piece.
"Are you okay?" Sieun asked, his voice cracking with genuine worry instead of the lecture he’d planned. "Are you hurt anywhere? Are you sure nobody followed you here?"
Suho clung to his wrists with an intensity that was almost obsessive, needing that physical connection. His knuckles were white from the pressure, and his eyes locked onto Sieun’s, searching for anything—forgiveness, a little validation, or just a reason to keep pushing.
"You have to listen to me," Suho whispered, his voice shaky but firm. "As soon as I take that traitor out, I’ll set you free. I swear. But for right now... Sieun-ah, please, I have to keep you on lockdown. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you because of me."
Sieun felt his stomach drop. He stared at Suho, so vulnerable and exposed, and realized he had no idea what to do. He forced himself to stay calm, burying his own terror under a mask of composure.
He nodded slowly, lifting his chin just a bit.
"Fine," Sieun said, his voice dropping low. "Handle it. Find whoever betrayed your family. That’s the only thing that matters right now."
He took a deep breath before adding: "When all this is over... When there’s nobody left hunting us, then we’ll decide what happens to us."
Suho looked visibly relieved, a flicker of hope showing in his eyes. This was his Sieun—the understanding partner, the only person he could move mountains for if only he had his support.
Sieun pulled back, sliding his hands away, and stood up.
"But please, don't keep anything from me again. Can you promise me that?"
Suho rose in a single fluid motion, desperate to close the distance Sieun had created. "I promise. I promise. No more lies.”
"And you're not gonna die," Sieun stated firmly.
Suho stayed quiet, just giving a short nod.
"Ha! That’s really optimistic coming from a crime lord, don't you think?" Seongje said, clearly getting a kick out of seeing Suho acting so whipped in front of his husband.
Shit, they were still there. Sieun let out a sharp breath and whipped his head around to face him.
"And who the hell do you think you are, huh?" he growled.
The man in glasses wiped his greasy hands on his jacket and took a few measured steps forward.
"Keum Seongje. A pleasure," he replied, offering a mocking wink.
"Stop that," Suho snapped, rising to his full height to confront him.
"Whoa, chill out. We’re on the same team now; we can't be at each other's throats," Humin said, stepping firmly between them.
"You shouldn't be here, Humin. Truly," Sieun said, his voice resolute.
Humin stood his ground. "I need the truth. Everyone here knows I was with Baekjin, so don’t bullshit me."
Suho and Seongje shared a heavy look before nodding in silence. Seongje just shrugged, his tone super casual.
"It was pretty obvious. Everyone knew."
Humin ignored him, his voice trembling just a bit.
"One day, Baekjin just cut me out of his life. He vanished into thin air, didn't say a damn word."
"He didn't just vanish," Seongje interrupted, dropping the truth without a filter while he stared at his phone. "He died."
Sieun’s eyes locked onto Suho’s, his face pale with total shock.
"Your brother is dead?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Suho just nodded, his expression completely blank.
"That’s why I had to take over his operations. Everything he was running became my problem."
Humin stepped back, shaking his head frantically, looking completely wrecked.
"That’s not possible. That can’t be it..."
"There was a funeral," Suho said, keeping it cool. "Closed-casket. I didn't go—we weren't that close."
Humin kept shaking his head, eyes glassy, looking around the room as if he was dying for someone to back him up. Sieun felt a pang of pity and reached out to put a hand on Humin’s shoulder.
"I’m so sorry," Sieun murmured, genuinely.
Humin shook him off, ignoring the gesture, and pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his jacket pocket.
"Then explain to me what this is."
He held it up for everyone to see. It was a piece of paper with an address scribbled on it and a signature at the bottom. The room went dead silent as everyone stared at it, looking totally confused.
"It’s Baekjin," Humin said, his voice cracking with certainty. "It’s his handwriting. I’d know it anywhere."
"Are you in denial? Is that what’s going on?" Suho looked at him, suspicious, arms crossed.
"It’s not denial!" Humin shouted, frantic, pointing at the note. "I found it under my apartment door. Someone knows where I live, and this... this is Baekjin’s handwriting. I swear to god."
"Where and when were you supposed to meet?" Wooyoung asked suddenly, actually paying attention now.
"Tonight," Humin replied. "The address is right here. I looked it up; it’s just some abandoned building."
"You shouldn't go alone," Sieun said.
"I have to go," Humin cut him off, shoving the paper back into his pocket. Sieun sighed and nodded—there was no way Humin was passing up the chance to see his ex again.
"Then I’m going with you."
"Sieun-ah, you shouldn't put yourself at risk," Suho said, gently gripping his forearm.
But Sieun wore that look—the look of pure resolution. Ugh. Right. He’d forgotten how loyal he was, a ride-or-die friend through all the bullshit. Humin had called him a friend, and now Sieun would worry for him just as he would for anyone he cared about—dammit.
"Fine, then we’re all going," Suho declared, running a hand through his hair, clearly stressed about how bad this could go.
"This is gonna be fun!" Seongje grinned, pulling a cigarette out of his back pocket and heading for the balcony.
Sieun caught Humin’s eye, and they gave each other a quick nod. Humin had helped him out back home, and now Sieun was going to help him find Baekjin. That was just how it was—a silent pact.
Later that day, the bathroom had become his only hideout, even with two hours left before they had to head out. Sieun was slumped in the tub, hot water up to his neck, wrapped in a thick cloud of steam that barely let him see the tiled walls.
He’d locked himself in without a word to anyone, desperately needing the dead silence. His head was tipped back, eyes shut tight, trying to drown out the constant noise inside his own head.
He’d scrubbed himself clean, feeling like trash after days of just not giving a damn. The worry over Suho had been eating him alive. But right then, he realized that anxiety was just the tip of the iceberg; the real weight of everything going down was only just starting to hit him.
"Agh, shit..." he muttered to himself, letting the hot water ease his tense muscles, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the day's events.
His breathing turned slow, almost rhythmic, and time started to blur in the dim light. He was just about to doze off when sharp, aggressive knocks on the wooden door jerked him back to reality.
"Sieun-ah?" Suho’s voice came from the other side, muffled. "You good in there? Need something?"
Sieun didn’t answer. He stayed perfectly still, praying Suho would just turn around and leave him be. He didn't have the energy to talk or to deal with his husband’s gaze.
But his silence just made Suho more on edge. The knocking came again, faster this time.
"Leave me alone," Sieun whispered, his voice groggy.
"Darling, answer me. You’ve been in there forever," Suho pressed, his voice even closer now, like he was pressed right against the door. "If you don't open up, I’m coming in."
The thudding against the door sounded like a frantic heartbeat, making Sieun jump so hard water sloshed over the edge of the tub. He scrambled to his feet, water dripping off him. His hands, still clumsy from the steam, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist in a rushed knot.
"I’m good, Suho, I'm coming out, damn it!" he shouted, trying to sound chill, but his racing pulse gave him away.
No time. Before he could even move toward the door, it slid open hard. Suho wasn't waiting anymore; he’d completely lost his patience.
The metal scraping against the track made Sieun jump, and with the floor basically a slip-n-slide, he lost his footing.
"The hell are you doing?!" Sieun yelled, losing his balance as he tried to climb out.
"You weren't answering!" Suho replied, his voice shredded by a desperation Sieun couldn't ignore.
His eyes, dark and buzzing with electric anxiety, didn't even hesitate to scan Sieun’s bare skin before he lunged forward to keep him from hitting the deck.
"Shit!"
The collision was inevitable. As Sieun’s feet went out from under him, two strong arms locked around his waist like a vice. Suho held him tight, keeping him off the floor, but the momentum shoved them into each other, leaving practically zero space between them.
Suho’s fingers dug into Sieun’s bare skin, a cold contrast that sent a massive jolt of adrenaline straight up Sieun’s spine.
Time felt like it just stopped. Suho’s breathing was jagged and heavy, mixing with Sieun’s. The proximity was brutal; every inch of them felt like it was pulling toward the other in the middle of all the chaos. Suho didn’t let go; if anything, his grip turned possessive, like just feeling Sieun’s pulse under his fingers was the only way he knew how to breathe.
Sieun stayed frozen, feeling the heat radiating off Suho, the intensity of a stare that stripped him bare better than the steam ever could.
The air in the room got thick, charged with a tension so real Sieun could feel his husband’s ragged breath brushing his forehead.
Suho leaned in slowly, closing the gap until his lips grazed the corner of Sieun’s in a torturously soft touch. Sieun felt his own lashes flutter against his cheeks; under his husband’s hungry, devouring gaze, the want inside him flared up hard.
He’d missed this so much—he needed it.
Suho was fighting a war inside himself, his jaw tight as he tried to keep his cool. He wanted more, he wanted to claim every bit of Sieun, but the uncertainty hanging over them was like a damn leash. His hands, which had been at Sieun’s waist, slid down with barely contained urgency, gripping hard onto his hips.
That was when Sieun, caught up in the whirlwind of it all, let out a shaky breath and leaned into him—a tiny move, but enough to set a fire in Suho’s eyes. His husband’s look turned hungry, dark, dropping any last bit of hesitation.
But fate, being the total bitch it is, killed the vibe.
A constant buzzing snapped the spell. Sieun’s phone, sitting on the vanity, lit up and started vibrating against the counter. Both of them looked at the screen at the same time. The name blinking back at them: Juntae.
Reality came crashing back, cold and sharp. Sieun felt his air return and, with everything he had, he pushed away from Suho, feeling exposed and vulnerable.
"Let me... let me change," he managed to get out, his voice barely a whisper, turning his face toward the door.
Suho froze for a second, his chest heaving. He looked like he was fighting his own body to let go, dragging out the moment he had to release Sieun’s hips for as long as he could.
His fingers tightened one last time before finally falling away. Without a word, he gave a short nod. He turned around and stormed out of the bathroom, running from the temptation before he snapped and lost it completely.
Sieun took a deep breath and took the call.
"Hey."
"God, Sieun. You had me worried. You weren't answering my texts and Suho wasn't either," his friend rattled off. Shit, he’d completely blanked on replying since yesterday.
"I’m sorry," Sieun apologized, shutting the bathroom door.
"Did something happen?" Juntae asked.
Sieun let out a humorless laugh, because what didn't happen while they were out of touch?
"You have no idea."