“You two seem rather close.”

Baekhyun stops stirring his peppermint tea. The grip of his thumb and forefinger holding the small spoon falters as it falls into the mug with a clink. It is the first time that he has heard Jinah starting a proper conversation with him, albeit the tone in her voice sounding a bit bitter. He tilts his head, confused by her words. “You ‘two’…?”

“That piano guy and you,” she says from the corner of the kitchen, probably cooking dinner—judging from the sounds of a kitchen knife chopping fresh vegetables on the wooden chopping board. “I saw him carry you all the way home the other day.”

“That’s because we made a deal and I won, so he had to carry me.” Baekhyun laughs, recalling the way Jisoo whined when he lost. The way he had played Bohemian Rhapsody with the old piano that was extremely out of tune. “He’s a nice guy but he talks a lot most of the time…and ends up not even teaching me.”

“Cute,” she breathes. There’s a short pause, and an obvious tension in the large space they sat in, before she speaks once more. “Both of you look good together—you two would even make a great couple, I’d say.”

Baekhyun chuckles. Salt on his tongue and shards of glass on his fingertips. He raises the mug of tea nearer to his mouth, taking a sip as he smiles. “I suppose you – out of all people – would like that to happen, wouldn’t you…?”

Jinah pauses once again, and this time, Baekhyun doesn’t waste his time by waiting.

“I’m going to take a warm bath,” he says quietly, walking past her frozen figure, air blown cold on his tear-stricken face.

Baekhyun dips himself further into the warmth of the lavender-scented bath, tilting his head back as he caresses his skin slowly, sighing in satisfaction. Fatigue seeps out of his tensed shoulders—it’s one of the rare times that Baekhyun gets to truly enjoy a quiet time for himself, without his constant anxious thoughts bothering him or giggles from the other room irritating him to no end. Baekhyun is sure that he is alone, soaking himself in the large bathtub, until he feels rough pads of fingers tracing his jaw, down to his neck.

He tenses. “Chanyeol…?”

“Hey,” his husband exhales, fingers resting on Baekhyun’s nape. “Dinner’s ready. It has been... for like half an hour or so.”

“I’m not hungry.” Baekhyun shrugs, his legs sliding against each other as he wipes the lathers of soap down his thighs. “I think I’m just heading to bed after this.”

“I need to talk to you—”

“Kiss me, please.” Baekhyun suddenly whispers, hands grasping tightly on Chanyeol’s necktie. He does not wait for a response, only tips Chanyeol’s chin up a little, pressing a kiss on his husband’s lips, chaste at first, but he eventually gets bolder when Chanyeol eases up, giving in, and arms snaking around Baekhyun’s waist. Water splashes onto his cheeks once Chanyeol enters the huge tub fully clothed, both of their mouths too occupied to complain.

Chanyeol’s suit is beyond soaked, but somehow neither of them cared. Chanyeol’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth, unfaithful hands groping around, and although the name his husband utters is his own, Baekhyun still feels like a cheap feast. He tries to focus on Chanyeol’s low and heavy breathing on his skin, but he only feels shame, disappointment—hurt when his husband’s hands roam clumsily with great reluctance.

Despite his mind protesting his actions, Baekhyun whimpers as he feels Chanyeol’s tongue roaming in his mouth, hasty and dirty.

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol whispers against his skin, “Baby, what are you doing to me…?”

He could feel his husband growing beneath him each time they move against each other in sync. The lavender-infused water creating small waves drags Baekhyun in further, deeper—so rough that he’s almost suffocated. Chanyeol’s belt and blazer thrown somewhere unknown as they lips meet in a hasty manner. Baekhyun’s arm snakes out to twist the knob of the shower, shivering when water hits them from above.

“I love you,” Chanyeol utters once he slips his spidery fingers in, comforted by the way his husband leans in to rest his head on his shoulder, whimpering softly. “I love you, Baekhyun, I love you…”

Baekhyun arches his back, wrapping his hands around Chanyeol’s neck when Chanyeol enters him in a smooth slide. His palms cradle his husband’s cheeks, chuckling lightly as he moans, “You brilliant liar…”

—

Poor Jinah, he thinks. Baekhyun wonders what the girl is up to, perhaps scrubbing plates of untouched food as she curses in anger, or sulking in the guestroom. Somehow, for Chanyeol, hurting one person was simply not enough. Poor Jinah for having such a terrible, lying