If anyone were to be in Jihoon’s place, they would be in a state of euphoria. To walk into the heart of a stunning suite, to be welcomed by a large four-poster with red rose petals peppering all over the white duvet; it felt unreal. He knew it should not come off as a surprise, knowing the rank of his newly-wedded husband.

Nonetheless his breath still hitched as Jihoon glanced at the beauty beyond the clear glass door, wholly embraced by the nature surrounding him — the sound of waves crashing into the white sand, shying just few feet away from the wooden patio, and an infinity of darkness beyond the sea. The way the moon reflected on the surface was an art of its own, a view Jihoon had never thought he would be able to witness.

And it finally dawned unto him that the beach, the cottage, the private island – all of them were theirs and theirs only.

Choi Seungcheol and Choi Jihoon’s.

No one but the two.

Yet Jihoon was unable to fully indulge the landmass of exquisiteness, for he was far too furious, features too strained to let even a smile creep up his thinning lips. In fact, he could literally feel the heat spreading throughout his face as he dragged his luggage along the marbled floor, ignoring Seungcheol’s adamant offer at carrying it instead. He supposed Seungcheol wanted to be a gentleman of some sort, being that they were on their honeymoon, but Jihoon had none of it.

His husband was already pissing him off when it was only their first night together.

“Why are you getting so worked up?” and the devil himself, Seungcheol, eventually trailed into the same shared space minutes later, one hand tightly gripped around his own suitcase. Though even the friction of wheels against the floor didn’t bother him, he couldn’t contain a flinch when Jihoon threw his bag onto the bed a little too hard.

“Why?” Jihoon scoffed, both fallen petals and bag were forgotten as he threw a glare at Seungcheol. “It is because your rich brought me here to this private island instead of the sanatorium, where I already placed my ing appointment. Who are you to make all the decisions around here??”

Only then it all clicked in Seungcheol’s head.

Letting out a sigh, the Opulent lessened the distance between Jihoon and him, carefully making his way to the middle of the room, “Is this what it is all about?”

Of course it was.

It was pretty much why Jihoon had been sour the entire boat ride to the island. He was indeed frustrated at the turn of events, aware that days of pre-planned itinerary just went out of the window. However, even with anger boiling deep within, Jihoon found his lips to be clamped shut, words stuck in the back of his throat. It was too humiliating to admit, given his skyrocketed ego.

So instead, Jihoon his heels, facing out to the dark sea illuminated by the full moon and stars in the sky. He didn’t remember the last time he had seen that many twinkling dots, dispersed across the black canvas. The part of the city he lived in didn’t give him the opportunity for so, he could only see cracks upon cracks – covering tall buildings, pavements, even the ceiling of his small bedroom. He had to admit: ever since he came to the island, he was able to see a breathtaking view contrasting to the distinct mark of collapsing city.

For once, Jihoon felt his body relax.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Seungcheol freaking dragged him there, away from the sanitarium where he could’ve gotten the procedure for free. Seungcheol could’ve at least consulted Jihoon first, before making any amendments of his own. But no, the Opulent just had to use the privilege that came along with his status.

Jihoon hated it then and he still hated it now.

Nothing could ever change Jihoon’s view towards ravenous Opulents. He did come to a realization that he shouldn’t generalize the entire population as a whole, though it didn’t mean he would hate the greedy ones any less. If Seungcheol started to behave like one, then he too was included.

“Jihoon, I’m sorry,” came a voice from behind, fairly close to Jihoon, sending chills down his back. It did little to calm to the younger when Seungcheol, who had no concept of ‘personal space’ whisperend into his ear, chest almost touching Jihoon’s back, “I didn’t think that far ahead.”

Jihoon could feel his walls crumbling down, his ego already at bay. He was too cautious to give in, too calculative to take a leap into the possibly open arms behind him.  Besides, their marriage was a contract-based and Jihoon was not obliged to accept Seungcheol and his advances, for the vow he gave at the altar hours before was strictly done for the sake of Seokmin’s well-being.

Nonetheless, Seungcheol could only be patient for so long. When Jihoon kept ignoring him, not once budging, still facing the glassed door, he grabbed on Jihoon’s wrist. Simultaneously turning him around, two strained faces staring at one another.

Jihoon almost barked, a warning of their promised clauses resting on the tip of his tongue when he heard Seungcheol say, “You know I mean well, Jihoon.”

Again, he was left speechless.  

Of course Seungcheol did. It had always been that way.

After months of knowing Seungcheol, with talks on wedding preparation in full motion, Jihoon could see how considerate he had been. Not only were his intentions generally thoughtful, they mostly revolved around Jihoon and Seokmin, which Jihoon had learned to view as a kind gesture. In all honesty, never had he encountered such a selfless soul as Seungcheol himself. It was obvious how Seungcheoul perceived Jihoon as his top priority, the first above all, despite Jihoon being the most stubborn prick ever.

Then again, Seungcheol should have known better, given the multiple events in which Jihoon had lashed out towards him throughout the wedding preparation; particularly when issues regarding money were in the picture. Jihoon had even stressed once that he would never be on board the leisure ride on Seungcheol’s status as an Opulent.

Jihoon wanted to be independent. Neither a gold-digger nor a scraper.

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol spoke up after a stretched silence. “I am really sorry. It was selfish of me.”

And Jihoon felt a jab to his heart because if anything, it was him who was being selfish.  Not Seungcheol, never the forever thoughtful Seungcheol. It was their honeymoon, their first night together, yet here Jihoon was, fuming at Seungcheol for being worried of him, for wanting to take better care of him.

To say Jihoon was embarrassed was an understatement.

Yes, he was mad at Seungcheol. For not discussing, for doing everything on his own accord. But was Jihoon allowed to be mad when the man meant nothing but to protect him? When there was nothing absolutely selfish in the act itself?

Running his fingers through his still gelled hair, Jihoon turned around, “I am-” he let out a sigh, “- I am sorry too. Just, don’t ever do things like this again.”

“Never. Now go and wash up. I’m sure you’re tired.”

Seeing the smile on Seungcheol’s face, eyes regaining their initial shine, Jihoon started to think that Seungcheol deserved better than being stuck with him for the next 6 months.

- - - - - - - - - - -

It might have been the fact that it was their first night together that the mere thought of it sent shivers all over Jihoon’s limbs. He felt cheeks heat up as he stole glances at the closed bathroom door. The sound coming from the running shower head made it harder for him to sit still on the bed, cleared of rose petals which he somehow had began to pick up once Seungcheol went in for a shower, seconds after he was done with his.

Jihoon was far from comfortable.

He was burning up.

Clearly, it didn’t help that he was wrapped in his favourite sweater, one that was too hot to wear, but too soft to resist. Jihoon glanced over at a clock on a bedside table, its numbers glaring at him in big blocks of red. '11:55PM' it said, and although his body was screaming for sleep, Jihoon couldn’t. For he was nocturnal and his sleeping schedule was far too messed up to fix.

But knowing that Seungcheol was showering behind the one door that separated them both, clothes all stripped off, made Jihoon want to dig a hole and hide forever. It was ing inappropriate and he could not think about Seungcheol in such a manner when their marriage was purely contract – and of course, he had other important things to think of. Seokmin being one of them.

However, Jihoon found himself going rigid when he heard the faucet being turned off; thick silence instantly draped over him, suffocating him so that eventually, he just couldn’t think. Unknowingly, he started counting in his head as if waiting for a bomb to drop.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9-

Then, the door creaked open.

.

Under the warm light, Seungcheol finally revealed himself and damn he looked good. Although the elder was fully dressed, donned with long pajama pants and a fitted shirt, it didn’t stop Jihoon from ogling at the partially wet hair. There were few strands dangling over Seungcheol’s forehead as the latter dried his head with a smaller towel, causing few droplets of water to flick around.

Jihoon knew he heard something, possibly coming from the still oblivious Seungcheol, but it was muffled from the towel. Though Jihoon believed he was too distracted to listen in the first place anyway.

And Jihoon was not the only one whose mind was preoccupied.

Seungcheol stopped messing with his hair, eyes fixated on the still staring male on the bed. Somehow, the look on his face began to mirror the expression on Jihoon as he traced the younger with his eyes from head to toe. And , Jihoon looked cute. With how his slender finger shyly peeked from under the long sleeves and how the overly-sized pink sweater drooped from his shoulders, Seungcheol was losing his mind. As for those thighs?

All Seungcheol could say was .  

Still, Seungcheol had promises to keep and clauses to abide. Jihoon’s safety was his first and foremost priority, and he shouldn’t let his raging libido take a hold of himself. Not when Jihoon had started to trust him. Not when Jihoon was possibly in great danger.

Jihoon needed to be protected from any impending threats, inclusive of Seungcheol and his building desire.

Moreover, Seungcheol didn’t want to make a move on the Indigent-turning-Opulent, especially when he knew how uncomfortable Jihoon may have felt. A reason that was deemed to be sufficient enough as Seungcheol headed to the other side of the room, turning a blind eye at the empty side of the large bed. He wanted to be at a safe distance, shielding both Jihoon and him from doing anything that they may regret - either next morning or few months to come.

Though what he didn’t expect was a timid voice that went off from behind, planting Seungcheol’s feet to the floor, merely a few steps away from Jihoon.

“Where are you going?”

“The couch,” Seungcheol simply replied, a genuine smile plastered on his face. Jihoon, on the other hand, couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“It’s time to sleep?”

At that, Jihoon had to scoff, his words drenched with unintended sarcasm, “Yeah, I am fully aware of that Seungcheol. But that doesn’t explain why you’re heading to the couch. There’s a perfectly fine bed here, if you haven’t noticed.”

Suddenly, Seungcheol turned around as he walked back, every steps caused Jihoon’s heart to beat faster and faster. The space between them was decreasing at a scarily fast rate and he didn’t know if he could hold his frantic breath any longer. But when Seungcheol ruffled his hair instead, smile undeterred, Jihoon believed his heart plummeted a little.

“It's okay. I’ll be sleeping on the couch. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow and you need your rest.”

As grateful as he was to see how thoughtful Seungcheol was, Jihoon had to say he might have preferred to have someone by his side. After so many years sleeping with Seokmin, having to lie alone on such large bed, he found that night was indeed the coldest one he had ever slept through.

And little did Jihoon know, Seungcheol too had a hard time falling asleep as he stared at his alleged husband from across the room, remaining awake even when he heard a soft snore breaking the silence.

- - - - - - - - - - -

If Jihoon had to be honest, he was never a morning person. He hated every start of the day with all his guts, enough that he had lost count of how many times he had snapped at Seokmin — even Soonyoung and Mingyu for interrupting his slumber. Yet when he felt a pressure on his left cheek, an all too familiar velvet-like voice kissing his eardrums, Jihoon easily woke up with the longest yawn, hands rubbing his puffed eyes.

“Morning, Jihoonie.”

With a coursed voice, still thick with sleep, Jihoon mumbled a short, “Morning.”

And Jihoon didn’t miss the chuckle from the freshly showered male. Almost immediately, he felt the corner of his lips tug upwards. Bear in mind, Jihoon had never woken up with a smile before. It had to be the nature enveloping him; from the fresh and clean air to the chirping of the birds, for he was such in a pleasant mood. Else why would he be smiling, at – he squinted his eyes at the clock – 9 ing AM?

“I already prepared some breakfast for you,” Seungcheol said, and only then Jihoon caught a whiff of pancakes coming from the hovering male above him. On cue, a grumble went off, to which Seungcheol laughed, “I believe someone is hungry.”

Jihoon blushed as he held his midsection, “Shut up”.

Another laugh.

“Go and take a nice shower before it gets cold.”

Seungcheol was lucky because Jihoon got up on the right side of the bed that morning.  

- - - - - - - - - - -

“This is amazing.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn't know that you can cook!”

“You didn’t ask,” and Seungcheol could only chuckle as Jihoon stuffed himself with another pancake, which was undoubtedly his fifth. Breakfast was simple – with poached eggs, pancakes and a touch of maple syrup. It may not be much, but it sufficed. In fact, if it were any more 'luxurious' than this, Jihoon would have flipped.

But Jihoon had to admit: he who was at first skeptical as he eyed at a cup of coffee in front of him, was definitely taken by surprise as soon as he sipped on the hot liquid. Seungcheol had hit the bullseye when the bitter, yet equally rich taste danced on his tongue, leaving an aftertaste of perfection. It was rather astounding to find out that Seungcheol knew how he liked his coffee to be, when he had never specifically stated it. Unlike Jihoon who had learned it through Seungcheol’s usual order (it was caramel macchiato) and frequent visits during his shifts at the café with Chan.

With that being said, he was still unsure as to how Seungcheol would really like his coffee to be served.

However, despite having such a nice breakfast at the patio, breeze from the sea lightly teasing his hair, Jihoon was jam-packed with anxiousness. Unfortunately, Seungcheol too had taken notice.

“Scared?”

Jihoon nodded, “less.”

“It’s going to be fine,” with a clank, Seungcheol put away his utensils as he slowly but surely reached for the trembling hand belonged to a rather pale Jihoon. “I’ll be here, every step of the way.”

As weird as it may sound, it felt assuring. Surgeries had always been terrifying to Jihoon, yet feeling the sure grip and hearing Seungcheol’s comforting words, he let his fear dissipate. Because Seungcheol, his husband, was there and he knew the Opulent would never go against his words.

And unknowingly, Jihoon had started to believe in him.