Shivers run down his arms as cold water splashes about, leaving his sweater soaked. He tries to provide warmth to himself by hugging his arms, bringing his trembling knees to his chest, but his teeth clatter still. The old, wet sweater is heavy on his body, dragging him down in the tub when he has no more strength to hold himself up. The smell of artificial honey soap fills up the entire bathroom, but instead of soothing him, he feels terrified. Baekhyun remains silent, refusing to speak, refusing to acknowledge the man caressing his neck.

“There,” comes a small whisper against his skin. “Do you feel better now?”

Bare hands try to pull the sweater away from his shaking body, but that sweater was the only barrier that kept his pride safe, so he yanks himself away. Baekhyun keeps his hands over his chest, breathing heavily, cold and scared, tears on the verge of tracing down his damp cheek.

“Don’t,” he croaks out weakly. “Don’t touch me…”

Yifan pauses, holding onto his shoulder, before he lets go. “You would feel much more comfortable taking a bath if you took off your clothes.”

Baekhyun shakes his head, holding back a cry. “Please, I beg you… Please stay away from me.”

“Baekhyun—” Yifan struggles to keep Baekhyun in place when he flinches, thrashing the moment Yifan lays a hand on him. “Hey, hey, shh… It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I told you before, Baekhyun… I would never hurt you.”

But you killed your wife, Baekhyun bites back his words bitterly, you tried to kill my husband. You hit us with a car. You tried to kill Chanyeol.

He turns away, sobbing quietly as spidery fingers undress him. Yifan removes Baekhyun’s final piece of clothing with an easy swoop, no longer bothered by the younger man’s constant thrashing. He hears Yifan exhaling shakily, tracing his hand down to Baekhyun’s bare stomach. Although the touch is gentle, he feels filthy beyond words, letting someone other than his husband touching him in such manner.

“I wish you can see how beautiful you look right now,” Yifan breathes out against his skin. The man dips his finger in Baekhyun’s navel, then run his fingers upwards.

“If you’re going to kill me,” he starts, venomous, unafraid. “You might as well just do it now. I have no will to live.”

“Don’t say that,” the older man hums, tipping Baekhyun’s chin up. “I’m not going to kill you. Never. Not when I love you so much, I could die.”

Baekhyun smirks with a dry laugh. “You told me you loved your wife, yet you killed her off. What makes you think you won’t do the same thing to me?”

“That was different.” The previously playful tone in Yifan’s voice morphs into something more serious, more sinister as he recalls his deceased wife. “She was nothing compared to you. She… No one can compare to you. She was just a hole to me.”

“You’re disgusting.” Baekhyun spits out. “You’re ing sick.”

“I’m just telling you the truth,” the man squeezes his cheeks tightly, pulling him so close that Baekhyun can feel the man’s nose against his skin, breathing him in. “When I ed her, I’d picture you. I had to, or else I wouldn’t get to finish. At first, imagining myself ing you was enough… But eventually, I wanted more, so I ed another man and tried to fantasize about you while I was doing it.”

Yifan places a kiss on the corner of his eye, leading down to his mouth before Baekhyun yanks himself away.

“But it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.” Yifan chuckles softly. “Do you get it now, Baekhyun? I did what I had to do.”

“So you wanna me?” Baekhyun asks calmly. His trembling hands contradict his serene demeanor. “If that is all, then just do it already. I don’t ing care anymore. Just me and get it over with. Throw me out on the street when you’re done.”

“Hey, but that’s not love, isn’t it…?” Yifan replies, pulling him by his shaky hand. He’s forced to stand in the tub, quivering when the older man rinses the foams of soap off his body. “I love you. I’ll keep you here in my home. I’ll take good care of you, feed you and bathe you. Soon, you’ll love me too, then… we can make love. Together.”

“Just the mere thought of that makes me want to vomit,” Baekhyun mutters under his breath. Wrapping his body with a towel, Yifan carries him out of the bathroom, rubbing his back as if to soothe. Baekhyun lies in the man’s arms lifelessly, emotional exhaustion having finally caught up to him. Still, in the back of his mind, faint images of a familiar smile remained.

Yifan dresses him up quietly, lifting his arms to fit into a loose shirt. Baekhyun feels a wave of sadness hitting him once more when he fully recalls to whom the handsome smile belonged to.

“Chanyeol…” Baekhyun murmurs quietly. “You didn’t hurt Chanyeol, did you? Where is he now? Is he… Is he safe?”

The older man pauses abruptly, sighing. “That man is the least of my concerns. Right now, you’re here in my arms, and another woman is probably in his.”

Baekhyun stiffens at the realization. How could he forget?

His husband had another lover, a fiancée. Now that Baekhyun is finally out of the picture, they must be more than delighted to live in that house. Would Chanyeol even care if he finds out that Baekhyun is in the arms of someone who tried to kill them?

Would Chanyeol even wonder how Baekhyun is feeling now that they are separated?

“You know I’m right,” Yifan coaxes, bringing him closer in his arms. Unceremoniously, he plops the weakened man down on his lap, running his fingers through dark locks of hair. “A husband? That man deserved no such title.”

Again, the silent tears start to fall. His body has given up on him after a long day of resisting the hold of a man whose hands killed an innocent. Baekhyun doesn’t hold back a cry this time, only sobbing against Yifan’s chest as he realizes that he was beyond help. After all this time, Baekhyun had no friends to call. His parents despised him still, and his husband had found another lover. There, Baekhyun laid, saddened and exhausted, eventually falling asleep in the arms of someone he couldn’t run away from no matter how hard he tried.

At the end of the day, there was no one he could turn to.

—

“He’s about this… tall. He has brown hair, and he’d most likely hold onto his walking stick.”

The police officer stares at him as if he’s growing two heads, but who wouldn’t, when he’s been searching all over town for his missing husband? Walking on the streets with the shirt he’s worn for the past three days, stumbling over stones on the sidewalks, grabbing onto frightened strangers’ arms with widened, frantic eyes. Here, the powerful lawyer, Park Chanyeol stood, helpless and desperate, holding onto the officer’s hands with a tight grip.

“Please, you have to help me find him…” Chanyeol whispers to the disinterested officer. “He’s blind, so he couldn’t have gone too far…”

The police officer shakes Chanyeol’s grip off calmly, nodding. “We’ll try our best to find your husband, sir, but we can’t give you any promises—not when you can’t provide anything else other than a mere description of him.”

Chanyeol gasps, fishing his wallet out of his pocket. A picture of Jinah is the first item that greets him, her smoky eyes staring back at him, burning holes in the back of his head. He almost tears the wallet open in search of his missing husband’s picture, but all he manages to find are crumpled receipts of movie tickets and a warranty of his recently purchased engagement ring. Traces of his hidden lover occupy his wallet and phone, his entire belonging. Hints of his Baekhyun had gone missing after months of negligence.

“That—I…” Chanyeol stammers helplessly, swallowing. The officer raises a curious brow when he sees Chanyeol keeping his wallet back in his pocket. “I have his pictures at home—I’d have