Archive of Our Own

Peach was extremely happy, he had landed a gig with a rising star WIK. Honestly even if the artist had a emo vibe, his facial structure was a photographer’s dream. Professionally speaking, Peach was excited to work with him as the model.

Unfortunately for him he had a husband and two adorable children who were absolutely against him looking at a model’s face for hours, figuring out their best angles.

“Papa” Marn said, “why does this Phi look so sad?”

“Because he has an image, baby”

“I think this Phi is handsome.” Chimed in Mohk.

“I think so too sweetie.”

This conversation reached the ears of the CEO of Arseni. A flurry of expensive suits clouded Peach’s vision before his face was turned to the side, meeting the eyes of his beloved husband.

“Peachayarat.” The monologue had started. “the love I hold for you in my beating heart is pure as the water from a mountain spring. How can you praise the face of another man in front of your living husband. Your admiration hurts my soul.”

Perhaps the speech was not finished. Perhaps it was. Peach did not care. He absolutely was in love with the man in front of him. That did not mean he would let Thee rant a story, especially in front of the kids. They were little tape recorders, recording pieces of conversations that made no sense individually but together, painted a weirder picture.

Peach closed his laptop with one hand and rested the palm of his other hand on Thee’s cheek. That shut him remarkably fast. However puppy eyes demanded more, Peach chuckled before planting a big fat kiss on his lips.

“Get a grip Khun Thee. I am analyzing the bone structure and the best angles of a new model.”

“Is he more handsome than your husband, PeaChayarat?”

“Khun Thee.”

“Dad, the model Phi looks so sad.”

“Baby for the last time it is called image. He is not sad.”

Khun Thee must have had saved a kingdom to land a adorable family like that.

“Khun WIK, strike a pose now. And don’t stop.”

Kim had been booked with a perfume brand he had not bothered to learn the name of. To him they all were the same. At the end of the day his Chay was away to Hong Kong on a student exchange program. These past three months were more than enough for him to bear; he still had nine months to go.

His manager had looked at him weird when he wanted to cancel his shoot.

“You need a public endorsement WIK. A small perfume shoot. It is good for PR.”

“If the company needs money ask the Theerapanyakul CEO to reimburse the cost. I do not need the money.”

“Think about what Chay would say. Would he love to see you be all moody ?”

That shut him up real quick. The entire staff of WIK’s roll had known the power of Khun Chay, the very definition of sunshine and the only person who can get the temperamental black cat Kim to do any work without complains.

And his name worked every time.

Without fail.

That had been this case when he is standing in a photo studio, in a knitted top and blowy pants that looks comfortable but only Kim knew how much fabric it holds. One wrong move and he face plants with the glass bottle in his hand.

He already regrets his day.

Specifically waking up.

He should have had taken his private jet to Hong Kong, today is a weekend for god’s sake.

But here he is stuck in the hot Bangkok.

A series of poses later the photographer and the producer finally called for a break.

He was exhausted.

Peach looked at the still he had captured.

 Marvelous. Absolute pieces of art.

He wondered if he could use his husband’s connections to book another photoshoot for this singer.  

Thee would probably agree. Infact if he ever voiced out his opinions, he was sure Thee would personally book him for a random shoot.

Which reminded him that it could be potentially injurious to the model’s health.

He was used to models peeking behind his back to look at the computer screen, how good their shots came out. WIK on the other hand retreated to a cool place with shadows and buried his nose in his phone.

iPad kids these days.

Kim was hoping for a reply from his sweetheart a sea away. He had rushed like a man drowning towards his phone. Instead of messages from a contact saved under love with a red heart, he saw messages from Big.

Khun Chay went to classes as usual.

Breakfast as usual.

Ofcourse.

Chay would rather die than give up on his breakfast. How he managed to down a whole strawberry glazed donut with chocolate frappechino with extra scoops of java chips and extra whipped cream, remained beyond Kim’s comprehension.

Half shot of espresso. Not one.

Kim had made the mistake of stealing a sip from his boyfriend’s order and immediately saw stars. He, from then onwards had maintained a strict rule to stick to his iced Americano with double shots of espresso.

Wise choice.

How he would like to see that face with whipped cream on Chay’s lips now.

Still no new text from him. He had wished him a good morning with a message so sunshiny that Kim would have had considered burying himself had that come from a different person.

But it was Chay.

Logistically speaking, Chay was busy in his Business Admin class right now. He would not have time to reply or text.

But was Kim logical?

No.

He was determined to sulk for the rest of the photoshoot. Honestly the only reason he was still here was because of Chay. No matter how long or how many pictures of Kim he has, Chay never fails to go nuts over the photoshoots.

Anything to see him smile.

He was so into his head that he had completely missed the photographer come up right in front him.

His mafia instincts needed a revamp. He had been too much wrapped in softness.

“Khun WIK, I saw you miss the snack beak, here is a protein bar”

A hand holding a protein bar entered his field of vision. Kim was about to snap, but then he looked up.

It was the photographer, with a sweet smile.

What was his name again ?

Peachayarat.

He begrudgingly accepted the bar, but did not open it.

He still dosen’t eat things he is handed by unfamiliar people.

Peach however did not care. He saw the poor model huddled with phone, missing the break. the shoot was exhausting and the producer along with the creative director were relentless for perfection. Kim had been serving them that with a side of professionalism. There were four sets remaining, shoots like this tend to suck the soul out of the body.

Poor kid probably is thinking about calories.

“Khun, it does not have calories. Eat up. You will need the energy. Also do you need coffee?”

The tone of his voice reminded him of Chay. His Chay would ask him coffee at random times, and knew his schedule.

He missed him.

“Ice Americano with two shots of espresso.” Kim immediately regretted speaking.

No one could blame him. This photographer’s eyes were like Chay’s. If he didn’t know about Chay having a brother, who is unfortunately Porsche, he would have believed that these two were siblings.

How even are Porsche and Porchay brothers?

Peach smiled with his eyes. This poor kid is caffeine deprived. That explains his moodiness. He immediately signaled an intern towards him.

“Can you get us a iced Americano with double espresso and a Matcha latte with extra ice and no sugar?”

Kim looked at him with surprise.

“No sugar?”

“Not a big fan. Matcha tastes a lot better without sweetness.”

Finally a man of taste. Kim thought.

“I agree. Caffeine should not be sweet.”

Peach was immediately drawn. This kid had good taste palate.

A huge sip of coffee and matcha later, Kim had decided that this photographer is a good person. He wouldn’t mind working with him again. He made a mental note to hire him for his other photoshoots as well. This guy was decent, kind and professional. He wouldn’t mind him as a friend in the industry.

P’Kim, you need more friends in the industry. Chay’s voice rang out in his mind. It can now only mean one thing.

Background check.

He shot of a quick text to Arm for a thorough check before he was called back for a costume change.

Please let it be something dark as my soul. I cannot take these knitted monstrosities anymore, thought Kim.

A valid thought in the Bangkok heat.

The shoot went on smoothly for Kim. He had originally thought it would be more time consuming, but P’Peach made it shorter.

Yes he was on P’Peach basis with Peach. Sue him.

Peach on the other hand was pleased with Kim, the ideal model and quiet kid was shy. No wonder he never had seen him in the wild parties with industry peers his age.

Sweet child.

If Aran was mischevious, Kim would be the sensible and soft kid he adopts from his work.

After caring for Mohk, Marn and on special occasions, P’Kian, Peach had awakened his adoptive streak.

And Kim is his new cat.

“Dad, can we get this new WIK Merch please?”

Thee had taken Marn to the Arseni company on a specific day. Mohk had soccer practice, he would be joining late. He picked up Marn from school with intentions of dropping her home. However the mafia princess had other plans, she clung to Thee with no intention of letting go.

The older Marn had gotten, the closer she got with Thee. Often she had shown interest in whatever Thee was currently doing. Lakorns, perfumes, she even had her clothes embroidered with her name on it just like her dad. At one point she also had decided to dress in similar suits as Thee.

My little copycat. Khun Thee had affectionately called her, stroking her hair.

One of the side effects of Peach editing the shots of WIK had been, Marn was WIKified. She had liked the aesthetics and was now deep down the rabbit hole of the pop icon.

And if any, Thee had not stopped her. He had listened to how beautiful his voice was. How handsome WIK was and how she was going to his concert when she turned twelve. Thee might have encouraged her to have a popstar poster on her bedroom wall.

The picture used for that poster was clicked by Peach.

As for Thee. He had looked fondly when his husband came home bearing praises of the well behaved singer. He had suspected that the singer looked familiar but his thoughts were pushed away by a needy Peach kissing him.

 Currently Khun Thee’s little copycat was sitting on his lap looking at the latest WIK Merch that just dropped on the website.

“We have to ask Papa for that baby. He will scold me if I spend too much.”

Marn had weaponized her puppy eyes to the maximum and poor Thee Theerakit Kian Lee was reduced to a doting father who could only hand her his credit card.

Mok had shot a ‘you are digging your own grave’ look at Thee, but that was ignored.

Just the way he ignores logic.

A few days prior, the CEO had received a call from Rome. A member of the Theerapanyakul family, more importantly the boyfriend of THE Kimhan Theerapanyakul is in Hong Kong and the family had asked for mutual protection for foreign land and some additional deals to sweeten the treat.

Rome had called Thee to discuss the viability of the request. And Mok had been sent down to assess the situation in Thailand, along with other things. Even if Thee’s new assistant was useful, no one could measure up to Mok’s level.

And that new assistant was currently in the office opposite to the boss's desk.

“Khun, should we run a small check on the singer Khun Peach had lunch with yesterday? He has been working with him a lot.”

Thee turned his head to his new secretary with a look that could chill an entire auditorium without air conditioners.

“You lowly peasant,” he said, voice dangerously calm, “do you dare insinuate that my wedded husband would entertain improper intentions behind my back?”

The secretary froze so completely it looked like he had stopped existing.

“That is not what I meant, sir,” he rushed. “I only meant the entertainment industry is unstable, and scandals tend to follow public figures.”

Mok shot an unimpressed look at the man in the room. Years of experience had taught him the choice of words mattered more than intentions. Especially in business.

“Khun Thee, it might be better to just make sure that the new friend of Peach is a friend and not a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

That seemed to calm the boss.

As the day drew to an end, Thee had found himself in his office in the mansion staring at the file carefully camouflaged by his secretary. He had almost not wanted to open the file; his husband had told him long back to not run background checks of everyone who hired him. This time however he was curious to see what kind of a man this singer was.

Against the warning bells in his head, he opened the file.

The face of Kim Kimhant Theerapanyakul stared back at him.

Right at his face.

Thee didn’t move at first. His eyes simply held on, as if the paper had made a mistake and would correct itself if stared at long enough. The lighting and contour had made the face familiar but now it became recognizable.

It didn’t.

The photograph was recent. Controlled lighting. Minimal expression. A carefully built “WIK” layered over something far older.

So that was it.

WIK.

The rising star.

The moody model.

The boy Peach had been feeding coffee and protein bars like he was some exhausted intern.

A soft laughter escaped his throat before he could stop it.

Not amusement, exactly.

Recognition.

Because he had heard of this name before; long before perfume campaigns and staged photoshoots.

Kimhan Theerapanyakul.

Enforcer.

The Theerapanyakuls.

The kind of name that didn’t circulate in business circles unless someone had survived being in the same room as him. And there were not many survivors. It was rumoured that he had been the reason the younger brother of the current spouse of the Theerapanyakul head had survived the minor family’s slaughter. Just the thought of Gun Theerapanyakul was enough to send shivers down his spine.

And he was also the cousin of Vegas Theerapanyakul, the current head of the Minor Family.

Oh Joy.

And then came the next thought.

Far worse.

Peach had spent hours with him.

Adjusting angles.

Touching his face to turn it slightly.

Telling him to relax his jaw.

Offering him coffee like he was just another overworked artist.

Thee stared at the screen again.

The joke wrote itself.

A former executioner of a kingdom turned pop idol, being gently scolded by his husband for talking too much about another man’s face.

He exhaled once, slow.

“-Of course it’s him.”

From across the room, Mok had already seen enough in Thee’s silence.

He stepped closer.

“Sir?”

Thee didn’t look away from the file.

Instead, his voice came out almost conversational.

“So the cat Peach adopted,” A pause. “was never a cat.”

Mok’s eyes flicked to the paper once and he understood immediately. That wasn’t a problem; that was history choosing to sit down at a photo shoot under studio lights. This connection could prove to be useful or blow up spectacularly.

Thee finally closed the file.

Not because he was done.

But because he had seen enough to understand something simple:

Peach had not been working with a singer, he had been standing next to a man the entire city used to make way for. A freaking leopard in a cat’s clothing.

And worse than that

He had been treating him like someone who needed care.

Thee let out a quiet breath, almost fond.

“This is going to be troublesome.”

Not fear.

Not anger.

Just the very tired realization of a man who had learned that his husband collected dangerous things the way other people collected flowers.

“Looks like my Peach is fond of animals.”

Mok looked at Thee with pity. He had to call and let Rome know about the recent development of petting the mafia cat.

Kim had refreshed his email twice before opening the file sent over by Arm. Poor overworked Arm, with his glasses resting on his tired nose, has faithfully presented the file in an encrypted email. It was rare these days to receive a background check from Kim, given the fact he was currently engaged in his musical career.

The encrypted file contained two pages of information with one word glaring at his face.

Spouse:Theerakit Kian Lee.

That was enough.

The name wasn’t unknown. It had always existed at the edge of circles he rarely cared to enter; corporate networks, high-tier alliances, families that didn’t need to introduce themselves twice. Underneath it lies a family backed by Triads.

His face was rarely discussed and name even sparsely, a seemingly ordinary photographer had captured the heart of the eldest Lee form Hong Kong and married him. Now that he recollected, there was a buzz about the public proposal and over the top romantic gestures. That gave his elder brother Kinn ideas about proposing to Porsche.

Not that he cares.

His gaze lingered on the file a moment longer.

Then his phone lit up again.

A message from Chay.

‘Sleep early P’Kim…. You have an early morning meeting tomorrow.’

Warm.

Kim closed the file immediately.

The screen went dark.

And just like that, the world that had briefly tilted toward “interesting” stopped mattering again. 

“Right,” he murmured.

Then, softer:

“I miss you.”

He misses Chay. 

And he has tomorrow’s meeting, with his producer.

                                                                           ***

When Peach found out that the model for the clothing brand is WIK, he was ecstatic. Working with him became much easier after they bonded over their mutual love of music. A particular band Peach was fond of during his university days, WIK had been in middle school, even if the band had been inactive for long, some of their music was quite popular among the age group.

They had met for lunch last week and Peach had almost adopted him on the spot.

WIK is so cute.

And skittish.

Like a little cat. Wrapped in leather.

Adorable.

He was aware of the latest obsession of his daughter, collecting WIK merch and building a practical shrine out of his photocards. When he had entered Marn’s room he was surprised to see the picture he had shot of WIK was in the poster she had put up along with some other k-pop idols.

He remembered Plub having the same phase.

He shook his head and focused on the background for now. The shoot was set in outdoors. Plenty of natural sunlight to focus on. The summer in Thailand bore down on the set.

“If I crack an egg on the pan and leave it on the table, I will end up having fried eggs for lunch.” Peach turned around to see WIK dressed in sweats.

Poor guy.

“Do you want another bag of ice nong WIK?”

The ice helped for exactly three minutes. Kim was back to feeling hot, he had shot a look at his manager who politely looked away.

I am going to make him suffer.

Kim’s train of feral thoughts for retaliation was interrupted with the entry of precisely thirty plain dressed body guards. Immediately his instincts flared, the men were armed. He made a mental note of all the exit routes and their positioning.

Then came the main attraction.

A man in burgundy suit had walked out of a magazine and landed straight in the outdoor photoshoot.

“P’Kian.”

“LookPeach.”

So, here he was. P’Peach’s husband.

Theerakit Kian Lee.

Despite the appearance of the CEO, the shoot went on smoothly. By this stage it was common knowledge to in select circles that hiring Peach involved the sudden appearance of his husband.

Occasional  ‘hold that expression’, ‘reset’, ‘next frame’, ‘give me stillness’, ‘don’t break eye line’ interrupted the clicking sound of the shutter. Kim had moved through every frame without hesitation, adjusting angles and expressions the moment Peach asked.

“Okay lets take five.” The Project manager announced after a very satisfactory session. Peach retreated back to the computer screen and looked at Thee.

“P’Kian, did you see how good the model was? He obeyed so very good.”

Thee looked at the monitor displaying Kim's latest shot.

"Mm."

A pause.

"He does seem cooperative."

Peach beamed.

"Right?"

Cooperative was not the word most people used for Kimhan Theerapanyakul.

Only Thee knew what that obedience was the result of. Though he had never met Kimhant personally, the rumours flew. He was just here to verify the safety of his husband.

                                  ***

If Kim panicked seeing Thee on the set, he schooled his expressions neutral. He had foreseen this day but not like this, He had wanted P’Peach all to himself today. It was hot and the set had too many people. Under normal circumstances Kim never minded people but pictures were a different topic.

He had been trained since childhood to avoid wall cameras; he was good at it, if not best. There was something about cameras capturing his face that made him uncomfortable. Even with almost half a decade into public life he still felt shivers looking at a lense.

Peach had been quite helpful in easing his discomfort unintentionally.

But would he approach Peach directly?

No. Not a chance.

Peach moved through the set like he always did, unbothered, efficient, focused on what mattered in front of him. A cup of iced coffee in one hand. A protein bar forgotten in the other.

“You need energy. Don’t skip meals.”

No insistence. No pressure.

Just a statement of fact.

Kim looked at it for a moment.

Kim finally spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Peach hummed softly, unconvinced, but not pushing it further.

“That’s what everyone says when they’re overheating.”

Silence settled between them again.

Then took it.

Not because he agreed.

Because refusing would have taken more effort than accepting and it was hot.

Peach took a sip of his coffee, already looking back toward the set, like the interaction had already been filed away as complete.

Peach turned to look at Kim properly this time. He was aware how much of an introvert Kim was, and his obsession with his phone. Peach was almost tempted to ask him to put it down, the frown would crack the already melting foundation.

“Nong WIK, do you need more ice?” Peach asked helpfully.

P’Peach, your husband is shooting daggers at me. Please move away.

Kim wisely kept that thought inside his head.

Before he could answer, Peach turned his head.

“P’Kian!”

The response was immediate.

Thee looked up from wherever he had been standing.

“Hmm?”

“Can you ask someone to bring another cooler? Nong WIK is melting.”

Kim nearly choked on his coffee.

Thee's gaze shifted toward him.

Direct.

Measured.

The same look a predator gives another predator when deciding whether or not it is worth the effort.

“Of course, LookPeach.”

The request was relayed before the sentence had fully left his mouth. A staff member practically teleported toward the ice boxes.

Peach nodded, pleased.

“See? Problem solved.”

Kim stared.

Because apparently asking one of Bangkok’s most influential businessmen to procure ice was considered normal in this household.

Thee walked closer.

Not enough to crowd.

Just enough to enter the conversation.

“So you're WIK.”

There was nothing hostile in the statement.

That somehow made it worse.

Kim lowered his coffee.

“And you're Khun Thee.”

A smile appeared on Thee's face.

Polite.

Dangerous.

“Good. Saves us both an introduction.”

Peach felt a silent gaze directed at him. It was his assistant for today's shoot. The poor girl looked moments away from a nervous breakdown. In her defense, approaching him while Khun Thee stood on one side and WIK sat on the other was probably a terrifying experience. Both men had reputations.

He turned to look at WIK, only to find Thee settling into a folding chair that had somehow materialized beside him.

 “Go on LookPeach, I will stay here.”

Peach shot a fond look at Thee and a ‘stay hydrated’ look towards WIK and moved towards the assistant in need.

“Khun WIK, I have heard a lot about your work.” Thee crossed one leg over the other. “ My husband speaks highly of you.”

Kim knew where Thee was going, honestly this was a conversation disguised as an interrogation. In their world, coincidences like this were suspicious.

He understood the implications. He would be the same if it were Chay here.

“Khun Thee, your reputation speaks for itself. Working with P’Peach is an honour.”

Thee hummed.

A neutral sound.

“Has it?”

“Very much so.”

Neither man looked away.

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It was measured.

Assessment.

Calculation.

Two men quietly confirming that neither intended to make the other's life difficult. Fortunately for everyone involved, Peach had excellent taste in people.

Threat dissolved.

“Khun WIK! Costume change!”

The moment broke instantly.

Kim stood, setting the empty cup aside.

“Duty calls.”

Thee inclined his head.

“Of course.”

Then Kim turned and followed the stylist.

Thee watched him go before glancing toward the opposite side of the set, where Peach was still busy helping a distressed assistant solve whatever crisis had appeared in the last five minutes.

The Theerapanyakuls and the Lees were no enemy to each other.

Fortunately.

Rome was having a meltdown in Hong Kong, when Vegas Theerapanyakul had reached out for a safe passage for a year to one of the family members, he had assumed that it might be for his brother, Macau.

Instead, here he was with Porchay, a ray of sunshine. Kimhan Theerapanyakul’s boyfriend and Kinn Theerapanyakul’s brother in law. And the ray of sunshine did not have an ounce of survival instincts. He needed to be bubble wrapped; to the power hungry wolves, he was a very juicy piece of fresh meat.

Which brings him to his recent dilemma.

Mok is in Bangkok.

There is no one to hold his hand and tell him that he did well.  He missed Mok as well. And it was the middle of the night. The skyline of Hong Kong was illuminated with a galaxy of led lights.

His phone rang at 02:13 a.m.

Which meant one thing: someone had either died, disappeared, or decided to become emotionally inconvenient at scale.

He picked up without checking the name. There was a separate ringtone just for Mok.

“Hello.”

A pause.

Then Mok’s voice.

“Rome.”

Rome sat up slightly.

That tone meant we are past prevention and into damage control.

“What happened.”

A brief silence.

Then:

“Peach adopted a cat.”

Rome stared at the ceiling.

“That’s not a crisis.”

Another pause.

Mok continued, slower.

“The cat is Kimhan Theerapanyakul.”

Rome did not move for a full five seconds.

Then,

“-I’m sorry, repeat that.”

Mok repeated it.

Carefully.

Like saying it slower would make it less real. Rome exhaled once through his nose.

Long.

Controlled.

The kind of breath people take right before they start reorganizing their entire life priorities.

“So,” Rome said finally, voice dangerously calm, “let me understand this correctly.”

He counted on his fingers out of habit, even though nobody could see him.

“One: Peach is working with a top model.”

“Two: That model is a retired Theerapanyakul enforcer.”

Mok added, “Presumably inactive.”

Rome ignored that.

“Three: Peach is feeding him coffee like a stray intern.”

Mok did not correct him.

Rome continued.

“And four-”

A pause.

His voice dropped.

“Thee already knows.”

Silence on the other end confirmed everything.

Rome leaned back slowly.

Then laughed once.

Short.

Unhappy.

That specific kind of laugh that means I am going to need to expand my jurisdiction.

“You people are unbelievable,” he muttered.

Mok replied flatly, “We did not plan this.”

Rome immediately shot back, “No one ever plans this. This is always Peach.”

Another silence.

Somewhere, Mok had the decency not to argue.

Rome stood up and walked to the window.

Bangkok lights stretched out like nothing was wrong in the world.

That was the problem.

 “So,” Rome said, voice sharpening, “we have Peach casually bonding with a man who used to make entire organizations negotiate with their mortality-”

He exhaled.

“-and Thee sitting on that information like a time bomb with manners.”

Mok added, “And a child who is currently very interested in WIK merchandise.”

Rome closed his eyes.

That made it worse.

That always made it worse.

Because children meant exposure.

Exposure meant patterns.

Patterns meant recognition.

And recognition meant—

“Oh no,” Rome said softly.

Mok paused.

Rome opened his eyes again, sharper now.

“There’s a second one.”

Mok didn’t answer.

He already knew where this was going.

Rome continued anyway.

“Kimhan Theerapanyakul is not just adjacent to Peach.”

A beat.

“He’s adjacent to Theerapanyakul internal structure.”

Mok said, “Yes.”

Rome’s voice dropped further.

“And Peach is married into Arseni.”

Mok said nothing.

Rome let it settle.

Then, very quietly:

“So Peach is standing in the intersection of two families that pretend they are businesses.”

A pause.

“And he thinks he is just taking pictures.”

Mok finally said, “Yes.”

Rome stared at the skyline again.

For a moment, he looked almost tired enough to be normal.

Then he sighed.

Long.

Resigned.

“Fine.”

A beat.

“And I have a Theerapanyakul in my territory who calls me P’Rome with the biggest boba eyes possible.”

Mok hesitated. “Is he behaving?”

Rome’s reply came immediately.

“He will need more than just Kim to survive in our world. He has befriended the guards I had posted. And buys them snacks.”

Another pause.

Then, colder, “I want to understand how close we are to the explosion before it happens.”

He ended the call.

The photos were released to the media and WIK fans were breaking down the internet. Several hashtags appeared within an hour and the idol’s manager was reaping the PR they had wished for. Merchandise were selling fast and profits rolling in.

Kim on the other hand was severely missing Chay. Throughout the entire process he had missed him way more than usual. The weekly video calls did not satisfy him anymore. So he decided he was going to do the next best thing.

Hang out with P’Peach.               

For Peach that day, it was bring your kids to work day. Marn had somehow decided to tag along with him. Mohk wanted to be the Mok’s shadow for the day

Uncle Mok is really cool.

That tagline was all that was required to get them to accompany Peach.

Peach had taken up another small assignment in Arseni.

The morning he had woken up, he felt a slight chill in his bones. The kind that spelled trouble later on during the day. He landed a kiss on his husband’s forehead before getting down to start the day.

By midday he was in Arseni, with his two children by his side and a loving husband who was secretly spying on him from the cctv cameras.

Blissful life.

So when he received a message saying that WIK wanted to hang out with him on a random Sunday, he had felt that this was a good chance to make sure that the nong is hydrated. He had one more shoot with him this season.

Immediately he had texted back,

‘I have my kids with me. Are you sure you can handle a thousand questions before lunch?’

‘ I need coffee first. Also I babysit my cousin when I am free.’

That settled it.

A flashy sports car stopped in front of the Arseni entrance. The kind that makes everyone stop and look. Probably make them count the zeros and then give up. A leather clad figure with shades stepped out. The moment Peach caught the sight of him, he had almost pulled him inside the company, into the air conditioned hallway.

Kim had known what kind of risk he was taking the moment he had agreed to meet the photographer in the company. He was breaking an unspoken rule among the mafia families, no stepping into each other’s territory without permission.

Did he care?                      

No.

He was just meeting a friend. And he meant no harm. Negotiations be damned, Arseni and him were not on bad terms.

“Nong WIK do you need more ice in your coffee?”

Kim replied with the sweetest smile. The assistant at the counter nearly shot him heart eyes. Peach was used to this. He had seen the same with Rome and Aran.

Heartbreakers.

The moment Kim had stepped into the Arseni building, the entire building was ablaze. The non-mafia section was cooing at how adorable the idol was with boss’s husband. The mafia half was alive like a raw wire with a million watt voltage flowing through them.

Thee had almost called Kinn regarding the news, it was a liability this way. A wrong move and this had the potential into turning into a bloody turf war. Mok had retreated back into his bodyguard mode and had shot of a quick message to Rome.

Two Theerapanyakuls in Lee territory.

Beautiful recipe for disaster.

Marn had seen her papa with her idol. It had taken her exactly ten minutes to capture him and bombard him with questions.

“Khun WIK do you have a girlfriend?”

Kim gave out a dazzling smile. The memory of Chay had flooded his senses.

“This is top secret.” He whispered conspiracy being an essence. “I have a boyfriend.”

The squeal Marn had given out was enough to wake the dead. Peach was amused. If only Thee were here now.

 The door to the private lounge slid open. Looks like his husband was here.

Thee stepped inside with an urgency of a man possessed. The sight before him made him pause, in spite of it being the kind he had seen on his monitors.

Peach sat on the sofa.

Marn was practically hanging off Kim's shoulder. Mohk had somehow claimed the spot beside him and was showing him pictures on a tablet. Kimhan Theerapanyakul, youngest son of the Theerapanyakul family, internationally known idol and occasional mafia menace, was listening with complete attention.

Thee sighed.

Of course.

Peach looked up first.

"Oh! P’Kian.”

The smile on his husband's face softened immediately.

Thee crossed the room and pressed a kiss against Peach's forehead.

Only then did he look at Kim.

"Khun Kim."

Kim raised his coffee.

"Khun Thee."

Mohk's eyes widened.

"You know Khun WIK?"

The room went silent.

A silence that lasted exactly three seconds.

"Papa knows everyone," Marn declared confidently.

Fair enough.

Thee sat beside Peach.

Across the room, three Arseni security officers looked like they were actively praying.

Peach noticed.

"Why does everyone look stressed today?" he whispered to his husband’s ear.

Several people immediately pretended to be busy.

Thee took a slow sip of his husband’s coffee.

"Because your adopted nong is accidentally causing a security incident."

Peach blinked.

"What?"

Kim suddenly found the ceiling fascinating.

Thee pointed at him.

"This one."

Peach looked between them.

"This one what?"

"Peach."

"Yes?"

"What's his name?"

Peach frowned.

"WIK."

Thee waited.

Peach waited back.

Thee turned toward Kim.

Kim was very clearly trying not to laugh.

Thee pinched the bridge of his nose.

"His actual name."

Peach blinked once.

Twice.

"-WIK?"

Kim made a suspicious choking sound.

Thee stared at his husband.

"Darling."

"Yes?"

"The idol."

"Yes?"

"Is Kimhan Theerapanyakul."

Silence.

Complete silence.

Peach turned slowly toward Kim.

Kim offered him a small wave.

"Hello."

Peach looked at Thee.

Then back at Kim.

Then back at Thee.

"Theerapanyakul?"

"Yes."

"Theerapanyakul?"

"Yes."

Peach frowned.

"Why does that sound familiar?"

Across the room three security officers looked ready to pass away.

Thee stared.

Kim stared.

Mok stared.

Marn was eating cookies.

"Oh."

A pause.

"OH."

"The Theerapanyakul?"

"Unfortunately."

Kim looked offended. Like Peach personally had kicked his puppy.

"I heard that."

"The mafia family?"

"The very same."

Peach stared.

For a very long moment.

Then he turned toward Kim.

"You skipped lunch three times during the photoshoot."

Kim blinked.

"What?"

"You were dehydrated."

"..."

"You also keep drinking coffee instead of water."

"..."

"And your manager is terrible at making sure you eat."

Thee watched his husband process life-changing information and arrive at the completely wrong conclusion.

Again.

Kim looked genuinely touched.

"P'Peach."

"No wonder you're always tired."

"P'Peach."

"You should sleep more."

"P'Peach."

Peach pointed at his coffee.

"Finish your water."

Kim obediently reached for the water bottle.

Thee buried his face in one hand.

Across the room, several Arseni employees looked moments away from tears. Their boss's husband had just discovered the identity of a major mafia heir.

And his immediate response had been parental concern.

Marn gasped.

"WAIT."

Everyone looked at her.

She pointed dramatically at Kim.

"You're like mafia? Like uncle Rome?"

Kim considered the question.

"Retired."

"How so?  Do you draw pensions as well?"

Kim opened his mouth.

Thee immediately interrupted.

"Do not answer that."

Mohk tilted his head.

"Can we still ask him questions?"

"Absolutely not," Thee said.

"Absolutely yes," Peach said at the same time.

Kim smiled.

Marn and Mohk cheered.

Thee looked toward the ceiling.

Somewhere in the building, Mok and several security teams were probably having collective heart attacks.

Thee’s husband had adopted a Theerapanyakul.

 *Bonus scene

The internet was gushing how sweet the interactions were between the photographer and the idol. A leaked behind the scenes showed Peach handing Kim a coffee and a bar. Immediately there had emerged shipping stories.

Chay had happened to see them.

And he found them cute.

He was currently sitting on the sofa in P’Rome’s office. His bodyguards had immediately rushed him there the moment he stepped out of the classes.

Security concerns.

By this time he had learnt not to ask questions other than the security protocol coded.

Kim had drilled them into his brain.

 “Something interesting, Chay?”

Rome asked the question after ending a call that had already shortened his lifespan by several years.

Across the office, Chay sat curled up on the sofa.

His textbooks were abandoned.

His attention was firmly occupied by his phone.

A dangerous sign.

Chay looked up with a grin.

“P'Rome, they're shipping P'Kim with the photographer.”

Rome immediately felt a headache forming.

“Are they?”

“Mhm.”

Chay scooted closer and held up the screen.

A compilation video was playing.

Peach handing Kim coffee.

Peach offering him snacks.

Peach adjusting his jacket.

Peach standing on tiptoes to fix a strand of hair.

The comments were unhinged.

Rome already regretted being able to read.

“Look,” Chay said excitedly.

He pointed at one comment.

He only smiles like that around the photographer.

Another.

The photographer understands him.

And another.

Somebody write a novel.

Rome stared.

Then stared harder.

Because technically speaking; the photographer did understand him, far more than the internet realized.

“P'Kim told me how nice he is,” Chay continued happily.

“Did he?”

“Mhm.”

Chay nodded enthusiastically.

“He said P'Peach always remembers his coffee order.”

Rome closed his eyes briefly.

Of course he did.

“Also snacks.”

“Snacks?”

“Yes.”

Rome pinched the bridge of his nose.

Naturally.

A former enforcer feared by half the city.

Defeated by protein bars.

“P'Peach sounds really kind.”

The smile on Chay's face softened.

“He reminds me a little of Hia.”

Rome nearly choked.

That was actually alarmingly accurate. And quite dangerous. Porsche may be a new addition to the mafia but he was by no means as gentle as Peach.

But then again he has tamed Kinn. Like Peach did with P’Kian.

“Maybe that's why P'Kim likes him.”

Rome looked at the ceiling.

Dear universe.

No.

That was absolutely why Kim liked him.

The problem was that Chay was currently operating with approximately three percent of the relevant information.

“Chay.”

“Hmm?”

“Hypothetically.”

The word immediately made Chay suspicious.

“P'Rome.”

“Hypothetically.”

“P'Rome.”

“If someone discovered your boyfriend was friends with another family.”

“Which family?”

Rome sighed.

Of course that would be the first question.

“Well, P'Kim is a Theerapanyakul.”

Rome stared.

“No, I mean another family.”

“Oh.”

Chay thought about it.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“Are they good people?”

Rome felt something inside him break.

Just a little.

“That's not how this works.”

“Why not?”

“Because families are complicated.”

Chay considered that.

“That sounds like a yes.”

Rome immediately regretted engaging.

A comfortable silence settled.

Chay returned to scrolling through comments.

Then he stopped.

“Oh.”

Rome felt danger.

“What?”

“Someone figured out where the photographer works.”

Rome sat upright.

“What?”

Chay held up the phone.

“Arseni.”

Rome froze.

“Oh.”

A pause.

Then another.

Then Chay looked at him.

Then looked again.

Then sat up straighter.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

The gears finally started turning.

“Wait.”

Rome watched realization arrive.

Not all at once.

Just enough to be entertaining.

“Wait.”

“Mm.”

“Arseni?”

“Yes.”

“Like Khun Thee's Arseni?”

“Yes.”

Chay blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then stared.

“-P'Kim is hanging out with Khun Thee's husband?”

Rome leaned back in his chair.

At last.

Progress.

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Another pause.

“Oh.”

A longer pause.

“Oh.”

Rome waited.

Chay's eyes widened.

“P'Kim went into Lee territory voluntarily?”

“Correct.”

“By himself?”

“Correct.”

“Just to drink coffee with the P'Peach?”

“Correct.”

Chay stared into space.

"Not a neutral location?"

Rome could practically see the moment the pieces connected.

Then Chay smiled.

Bright.

Fond.

Completely missing the point.

“He must have been really lonely.”

Rome dropped his head onto his desk. He would have to see a feral cat being treated as a domesticated kitty for four more months.

The sound echoed through the office.

Because apparently Peach wasn't the only person who looked at Kimhan Theerapanyakul and immediately decided he needed emotional support.

The disease was spreading.