Euthymia

Shades Of Vines And Oceans

Suho described their second abode as a beach house, but, really, he meant a beachside villa. Far too big to be labeled anything but. A castle with two floors that feel like entire buildings on their own. A place of isolation and relaxation, sunburns and lemonade, bare feet and seashells. All French windows and rice paper doors and squares and minimalistic styles like the Gangnam penthouse. The only difference – Jeju Island has that pop of color Chanyeol keeps searching for.

Hues of green and yellow against the beige of the walls. Vines growing up the plaster, bushes lining the walkways, a sterile blue pool behind the building, a single marble half wall to the side equipped with shower heads and drains in the floor. Four stone steps leading up to the front door. Sehun has to carry Baekhyun's luggage up these steps along with his own.

They are directly against the beach, the steps leading into a sandy slope, the slope leading into the water. The air permanently carries the smell of fish and moisture, and with such brutal winds today the sea spray mists up all the windows at the front of the villa. By the time they get off the boat with all their luggage and vehicles, each looks like they stepped out of a shower. Baekhyun tidies up his hair in the reflection of the car window while Sehun wrestles a suitcase. Neither have looked at Chanyeol once.

They shuffle onto varnished wooden floors, wet shoes squeaking against the polish in an obnoxious, out-of-tune chorus. Curtains whip around in the breeze, all the windows open. Sehun carries their belongings to a room on the second floor. Baekhyun flops onto the couch, useless.

"Hey," Sehun snaps. He stands at the top of the stairs, looking over the mezzanine. "Get up here so I can show you your room."

With his one bag of clothes and the duffel bag of weapons, Chanyeol trudges up the stairs, squeaking every step of the way. Sehun leads him to a set of two doors, about fifty feet between them, the surrounding walls decked out in meticulously placed seashells and faux fishing nets. One door leads to his and Baekhyun's room – a single bed, another balcony. The second door leads to Chanyeol's room – same layout, same balcony, but significantly more empty. A bathroom connects the two, bridges their separate quarters so they can't avoid Chanyeol as much as they want.

"Don't think a Jack-and-Jill bathroom is some invitation to come into our room whenever you please." Sehun explains, hovering over Chanyeol as he sets his bags down. "Remember to lock both doors when you're in there or else we might walk in on you. And knock before you enter if the door on your side is closed."

A picture hanging over Chanyeol's lonely bed catches his eye. A nude man eating fruit, bathed in shades of vines and oceans. Certainly an upgrade from the uninspired art in the penthouse.

"You can set your sniper up on the balcony. There's really no need to leave your room unless to eat. We don't have any staff here, so no maids to bring you food. You'll have to come down and get it yourself; we're not gonna be the maids for you."

Chanyeol unzips his duffel bag and carefully removes the sniper. Cursed thing. He doesn't have much confidence in his shot anymore.

"Do what you came here to do – nothing more." Sehun steps a foot outside the door, but stops to add one more thing. "And Chanyeol?"

He puts the gun down, glancing over his shoulder.

"Stay the hell away from Baekhyun. If I find out you tried to put your hands on him again, I'll kill you."

There's that sandalwood again. Wisps of masculinity and dominance drifting down the hall, down the stairs, and right back to the omega he'll do anything to keep to himself. A hint of Madeleines comes through. Their pheromones don't complement each other very well. Like oil and water. Nauseating.