*Bael’s POV*

The bedroom is too quiet.

Bael notices this at 11:47 PM on the second night, sitting at the desk with his laptop open to a contract he’s reviewed three times without retaining any of it.

The silence isn’t new, he’s worked late in this room countless times before, but the quality of it is different now.

Empty.

Runze’s absence is tangible in a way his presence never was, which doesn’t make sense but is nevertheless true.

Bael closes the laptop with more force than necessary.

This is unproductive.

He’s wasting time thinking about something he can’t change, something that shouldn’t matter this much in the first place.

Runze locked himself in his old room two days ago and hasn’t emerged except during hours when Bael is guaranteed to be elsewhere. The avoidance is deliberate, strategic, and completely irrational given that nothing actually happened.

Bael stands, moves to the window, looks out at the dark garden.

His reflection stares back at him, he looks the same as always, controlled, composed, no visible evidence of the frustration currently making his jaw tight.

Nothing happened.

That’s what matters, that’s what should matter.

***

Three nights ago, Bael had gone to Xue Lian’s apartment.

Not because he really wanted to... he’d been putting it off for weeks, finding reasons to postpone, to reschedule, to avoid, but because Xue Lian had finally cornered him about it.

*You promised you’d come. You keep making excuses.*

Which was accurate.

Bael had promised, back when seeing Xue Lian was something he wanted rather than something he was obligated to want.

The apartment was exactly as Bael remembered. Minimalist, expensive, carefully curated to project sophistication without effort.

Xue Lian had opened the door wearing something casual that somehow looked calculated, smiled in that way that used to make Bael’s chest tighten, and pulled him inside before Bael could reconsider.

"Finally," Xue Lian said, closing the door. "I was starting to think you were avoiding me."

Bael was avoiding him, he’d been for weeks, but admitting that would require explaining why, and Bael didn’t have an explanation that made sense.

They’d sat on the couch initially. Xue Lian poured wine that Bael didn’t drink, talked about his week in that animated way he had, laughed at his own stories.

Bael listened without really listening.

His attention kept drifting.

To the fact that he’d left Runze at home without explanation, to the fact that Runze had sent a message that morning asking when he’d be home.

To the fact that he’d ignored the message because he didn’t have an answer that wouldn’t lead to questions he didn’t want to address.

"You’re distracted," Xue Lian said, moving closer.

"I’m fine."

"You’re never fine. You’re always thinking about something." Xue Lian’s hand rested on Bael’s knee. "Let me guess. Work?"

"Yes."

A lie, but a convenient one.

Xue Lian didn’t look convinced but didn’t push.

Instead, he shifted, moving from beside Bael to straddling his lap in one smooth motion, hands settling on Bael’s shoulders.

"Then stop thinking about work," Xue Lian said, leaning in.

Bael’s hands moved automatically to Xue Lian’s waist, muscle memory from three years of this exact dynamic, this exact position.

Xue Lian kissed him.

Deep, tongue sliding against Bael’s in a rhythm they’d established long ago.

It should have been familiar, should have been easy, should have felt like coming home after months of pretending otherwise.

It didn’t.

Bael kissed back because stopping would require explanation, because his body knew what to do even if his mind was elsewhere, because Xue Lian’s hands were already working on his shirt buttons and saying "wait" now would make this into something bigger than it needed to be.

Xue Lian made a small sound against his mouth, pleased, satisfied, like he’d won something.

Bael’s grip tightened on his waist.

Xue Lian’s scent was everywhere, sweet, cloying, distinctly omega in a way that should have been appealing.

It wasn’t.

It was wrong, too sweet, too much, not...

Bael stopped that thought before it could complete.

Xue Lian pulled back slightly, breathing faster, eyes bright. "Bedroom?"

Bael’s hands were still on his waist. He should say yes, he should follow through, and want this.

"Bael?" Xue Lian prompted, rolling his hips slightly.

Bael tried to focus.

Tried to be present in this moment instead of thinking about the fact that Runze would be asleep by now, curled up in their bed, probably annoyed that Bael didn’t respond to his message.

Wait.

Their bed.

When did Bael start thinking of it as their bed?

Xue Lian kissed him again, deeper this time, and Bael’s brain supplied an immediate comparison he didn’t ask for.

Runze kissed differently. More hesitant at first, then demanding once he committed to it, hands that grabbed instead of caressed, made sounds that were genuine instead of performed.

Bael pulled back.

"...What’s wrong?" Xue Lian asked, frowning slightly.

"Nothing."

"You stopped."

"I’m thinking."

"About work still?" Xue Lian’s hands slid down Bael’s chest. "I can help with that."

No.

Not about work.

About the fact that Xue Lian was in his lap and Bael was thinking about someone else entirely, about the fact that Xue Lian’s scent was making him vaguely nauseous instead of aroused.

About the fact that he’d spent three years convinced he wanted this, wanted Xue Lian, wanted everything they’d planned together.

And now, sitting here with Xue Lian actually in his lap, all Bael could think about was how wrong this felt, how different it was from having Runze sit in his office doing nothing, just existing in the same space, how Xue Lian’s carefully curated presence felt exhausting compared to Runze’s blunt directness.

How this... all of this... wasn’t what he wanted anymore.

When did that happen? When did Bael’s preferences shift without him noticing? When did Runze become the person he’d rather be with?

The realization was inconvenient, unwelcome, and undeniable.

"Bael," Xue Lian said, and there was irritation creeping into his voice now. "What’s going on?"

Bael’s hands moved to Xue Lian’s waist, lifting him off his lap with controlled force.

"Something came up."

"What?" Xue Lian stood there, shirt half-unbuttoned, looking genuinely confused. "We just...you just got here."

Bael was already standing, already moving toward the door.

"Then what—"

"Work issue." The lie was automatic. Easier than the truth.

Xue Lian’s expression shifted from confusion to anger. "Work? You’re leaving because of work?"

Bael didn’t respond.

"We’ve done this hundreds of times and you’ve never—"

"I need to go."

The words came out flat, final, no room for negotiation.

Things were easier before Runze.

Bael had spent the past several months living with someone who challenged him constantly, who sat in his chair eating his strawberries, who locked himself in Bael’s office and refused to leave even when told to.

Someone who made everything more complicated than it needed to be, someone Bael apparently preferred over the person he’d spent years planning a future with.

That was the problem.

And Bael was furious about it.

The drive home was silent.

Bael sat in the back seat, jaw tight, trying to organize his thoughts into something logical.

He’d gone to Xue Lian’s apartment intending to follow through, to do what he’d been planning to do for months, to prove that the marriage to Runze was still what it was always supposed to be, a practical arrangement, nothing more.

Instead, he’d left.

Because every time Xue Lian touched him, Bael thought about Runze instead, because the realization that he wanted to be home more than he wanted to be there was impossible to ignore, because apparently, at some point Bael hadn’t noticed, his preferences had shifted entirely.

And he was angry about it.

Angry at Runze for being the kind of person who got under his skin without trying, angry at himself for letting it happen, angry at the entire situation for becoming complicated when it was supposed to stay simple.

By the time the car pulled up to the estate, Bael’s frustration had crystallized into something cold and controlled.

He walked through the door at 10:47, not expecting anyone to be awake.

Runze was standing in the entryway.

Just... standing there like he’d been waiting.

The first thing Bael noticed was his expression, something complicated, something Bael didn’t have the capacity to decode right now when he was still processing what had just not happened with Xue Lian.

Then Runze’s face changed.

Went from whatever it had been to something sharp, hurt, completely unexpected.

"Where were you?" Runze asked, and his voice was wrong.

Off.

Bael didn’t understand the question. "Working."

"Working." Runze repeated it flatly. "You smell like him."

Bael stopped.

He probably did smell like Xue Lian... they’d been in close proximity for thirty minutes, Xue Lian’s scent would have transferred during the kissing even though nothing else happened.

"Like who?" Bael asked, even though he knew.

"Don’t." Runze’s hands were clenched. "Xue Lian. You smell like Xue Lian."

This was...

Bael didn’t have a response ready.

He hadn’t anticipated this conversation, hadn’t anticipated Runze waiting for him, hadn’t anticipated having to explain something he barely understood himself.

"Did you fuck him?" Runze asked, and the question came out raw.

Bael’s jaw tightened.

The accusation was insulting given that he’d specifically left to avoid doing exactly that.

Given that the entire reason he was standing here angry was because he’d realized he didn’t want Xue Lian anymore.

But explaining that would require admitting why, would require acknowledging things Bael wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

"Why are you asking me that?" Bael said instead.

Wrong answer.

He knew it was wrong the moment Runze’s expression cracked further.

"Because you smell like him!" Runze’s voice broke. "Because it’s all over you and you won’t even—"

Bael took a step forward.

Runze stepped back immediately.

The retreat stung in a way Bael didn’t expect.

"Did you?" Runze asked again, quieter now. "Just tell me. Did you sleep with him?"

Bael looked at him.

At his expression, at the way he was holding himself like he was bracing for impact, at the fact that Runze cared about the answer more than someone in a practical arrangement should care.

And Bael didn’t know what to say.

Because "no" felt like it required explanation, required admitting that he’d left because of Runze, required making this situation more complicated than it already was.

"That’s not your concern," Bael said finally.

The words were automatic.

Defensive.

Wrong.

Runze’s face went blank.

Then: "Not my concern. We’re married."

"We are. And you knew what this was from the beginning."

The sentence came out cold, crueler than Bael intended.

But accurate.

They’d never promised fidelity, never established rules beyond what was necessary for appearances.

The marriage was practical.

Always had been.

So why was Runze looking at him like Bael had just destroyed something important?

"Get away from me," Runze said, voice steady despite the way his hands were shaking. "Just...stay away from me."

Then he turned and left.

Walked to his old room and locked the door.

And Bael stood there in the entryway, still smelling like Xue Lian, and tried to figure out what just happened.

***

That was two nights ago.

Now Bael sits in their empty bedroom at midnight on the second night, staring at his own reflection in the window, and the frustration has only gotten worse.

Because Runze is avoiding him, because the house feels wrong without Runze’s presence, and apparently, at some point Bael didn’t notice, having Runze around became necessary instead of tolerable.

And he hates it.

Hates that Runze made him like this, hates that he can’t focus properly when Runze is locked in another room refusing to speak to him, that he chose to leave Xue Lian’s apartment for this, for someone who won’t even listen when Bael tries to explain that nothing happened.

Except Bael hasn’t actually tried to explain, hasn’t knocked on that door, hasn’t said "I left because of you."

Because saying that would make it complicated, would require admitting feelings Bael isn’t ready to admit, would complicate everything further when it’s already too complicated.

But the current situation is unsustainable.

They live in the same house, they’re having a child together, they need to be able to coexist.

And more importantly—though Bael doesn’t want to examine why it’s more important—he needs Runze to stop avoiding him.

Needs to find a way to make Runze understand that nothing happened with Xue Lian, needs to fix this.

But he doesn’t know how.