Chapter Text
When someone called him lucky, Peach used to internally roll his eyes and try to keep the conversation short. Luck didn't feed him, didn't put a roof over his head, didn't make him want to live. Hard work did, diligence did, and most importantly, Peach himself did. Luck felt like gambling, and just hoping for better felt like imprisonment.
But that was before. Now, when Peach wakes up every morning, sunlight creeping into the bedroom and brushing his face, he doesn't think so anymore. Maybe his luck was just waiting for the right time. Maybe his luck is a person. Maybe it's Thee after all.
Rubbing his eyes, Peach reaches for his phone on the nightstand. He does it quietly - his husband is still sleeping, arms wrapped around a pillow. During the night, Thee enveloped Peach with all his limbs, like an octopus. Only on his third attempt did he manage to break free from Thee's vice grip.
He'd love to stay in the tempting warmth of their bed, but alas, that isn't possible today. Peach checks the time. It's still early. He lets his head fall onto the pillows again.
Five more… ten more minutes, Peach bargains with himself, eyelids closing.
Yet, his overthinking mind doesn't let him have even a second of sleep. Today, Peach has an important project to wrap up, and tomorrow, his well-deserved vacation is supposed to kick off. Just imagining what awaits them makes him smile from ear-to-ear. Peach feels like a kid again, being more excited than Marn and Mork. Of course, they too have been talking their grandparents' ears off about the places they planned to visit. Peach doesn't blame them; they deserve it more than anyone.
In his peripheral vision, he sees Thee stirring in his sleep, smacking his lips. Peach's smile grows wider. His hands itch to ruffle his husband's fluffy hair, but he resists the temptation, his hand frozen mid-air. The ten minutes unfortunately ran out, as everything in life does.
"Why did you stop smiling?"
Peach huffs as Thee, still not fully awake, wiggles his way towards him and falls headfirst onto Peach's belly. He nuzzles into Peach, making the latter squirm.
"I'm ticklish! Get off me, P'Kian!"
"Then smile one more time," demands Thee, turning his head to the side, cheeks pressed to his skin.
Each inhale and exhale Peach takes is felt by Thee. They breathe in unison.
"I have to get up, that's why," Peach answers, threading his fingers through his husband's disheveled hair.
Thee looks like he's about to purr in pure bliss. He traces lines on Peach's belly, gently, lovingly. No matter how much Peach wishes to stay, he has work to do and people to meet with. He tries to get up, but Thee is too heavy to push away, especially when he climbs on top of Peach, eyes gleaming with mirth.
"Don't go," he pleads, snuggling into his chest, "you can reschedule. They can wait."
"P'Kian," Peach tries to change his tone to sound stern. He fails.
It's getting harder and harder to say no to his husband. Loving Thee became his norm, too difficult, almost impossible to live without. Just as Peach expects the sun to rise and greet him above the horizon, he expects Thee to be by his side every single day. It's reassuring to love and to be loved back unconditionally.
Thee feigns a pout. Despite being slightly upset (not with Peach, never with Peach), he rolls away. Clutching the pillow he previously abandoned, Thee nods solemnly.
"Go on your merry way, dear husband," he says, flailing his arms.
"What soapie are you watching again?"
"You."
Peach lets out a weary sigh, but he can't stop his lips from curving into a smile. Thee beams at that. Finally, he musters all his will to jump out of bed. He yawns before stretching, arms reaching towards the high ceiling.
"You should go back to sleep, it's early," Peach suggests.
"What time is it?" Thee asks, eyes scanning Peach up and down.
"Eight o'clock." Peach notices the heated stare and covers his chest with a shirt he just picked from the wardrobe. "You'd better act decently, Theerakit Kian Lee."
Thee raises his hands in surrender, but he makes sure Peach sees him wink and wiggle his eyebrows. Peach fights the urge to squish him in his embrace. He only had those impulses when it came to cute animals, but turns out, Thee is an exception. He's too cute for his own good.
Leaning onto the headboard, Thee sits up, pillow still in his hands. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, clearly deep in thought.
"Just tell me," Peach says at last, witnessing Thee gather his thoughts multiple times.
"I know you already turned down my offer yesterday, but… You really don't want to take my private jet? Or a commercial airplane if you don't like it? I can ask my assistant to purchase a ticket right this moment. It will take just a couple of minutes."
Peach stops packing his bag and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, his weight dipping into the mattress. He touches Thee's foot over the blanket, caressing it.
"I'm ok, but thank you for thinking of that, of me. I'll just drive there. It's only three hours."
"Only three hours? Lookpeach, do you hear yourself?" Thee asks, bewildered.
"I'll be fine. It's not like I haven't done this before. I'll keep updating you, if you want," Peach says and stands up.
Thee doesn't seem to be convinced, but he nods nevertheless.
Not too long ago, Peach caught him watching a horror movie, cozied up on a living room couch with a cup of hot tea. Obviously, he didn't get to watch it until the end because a single jumpscare made him flinch so hard he spilled his drink all over the carpet. Peach was just relieved Thee didn't end up burning himself. Probably the reason he's so anxious these days.
"Are you sure you're not watching anything scary again?" Peach asks, pointing at his husband with his index finger.
"No, only true crime," replies Thee innocently, batting his eyelashes.
Peach grinds the base of his palm into his forehead, unamused. He purses his lips and forces down a laugh, ready to burst. Just when Peach thinks Thee has nothing left to surprise him with, he pulls something new out of his sleeve.
"You're unbelievable."
"Unbelievably yours, Peachayarat."
Peach chooses the most comfortable clothes; he wants to drive peacefully with no distractions. He packs lightly, taking only the essentials. And of course, he wouldn't forget the most important item - his new camera, which he has been waiting to try out for upcoming projects. Peach has been planning to use it on their vacation, too. Just thinking about it lifts his mood.
He hasn't told Thee and their kids yet, but he prepared three other cameras for the three of them. Peach would love to see their point of view, the way they perceive the world, what excites them, and what catches their attention the most.
A knock on the door makes them both turn in its direction. A second later, a tiny head peeks in.
"Oh, Marn! You already got up?"
The girl nods, rubbing her puffy eyes, and enters the room. She drags along a blanket that trails behind her on the floor. Marn grunts as she tries to jump onto the bed, too sleepy for her body to cooperate with her brain. Thee helps her up, and she immediately lies down.
"Is Mork still asleep?" asks Thee, patting her on the back.
The girl makes a sound of acknowledgment. Her gaze falls onto Peach's bag, and she tilts her head in confusion.
"Are you leaving us?"
Peach picks his bag off the armchair and takes a glimpse at his reflection in the mirror one last time. His hair isn't in the best shape, but it will do.
"Just work, sweetheart. I'll be back by evening," Peach replies as he plants a kiss on top of her head. "Be good and listen to your dad."
Before exiting the room, Peach turns around one more time, indulging himself, to look at his husband and their daughter, who are cuddled up together. Thee is still patting her shoulder as if she's a toddler. He checks up on Mork in the room adjacent to theirs. The boy must have been having a good dream with the way he's grinning, drool sliding down his chin. Peach leaves the house in high spirits.
The drive to the neighboring city is just as tranquil as he wanted it to be. Even the weather decides to spare Peach, a chilly breeze hitting his face is proof.
Although Peach has seen the views appearing through the windows of his car hundreds of times, he still loves to experience them; it's a jamais vu. He's not in a rush, so he makes occasional stops to take photos of random things and sends them to Thee. A tabby cat with a battle scar on its nose. A lonely flower in the middle of nowhere. Birds making a nest out of a few twigs. Peach captures everything.
Thee gave up a spacious room for Peach's collection of cameras, photographs, and albums, despite Peach thinking it was too much.
"I want you to have everything you love in our house, and that includes your passion," his husband said at the time.
He was right. Album after album, the room (Thee labeled it as "Peach Garden") began to fill up with memories precious to Peach.
He hasn't told Thee yet, but pretty much most of those albums are dedicated to Thee. He's become Peach's muse. The photos weren't taken in a studio, nor were they professionally curated. They were candid. Thee eating spicy noodles; Thee pouting while Mork makes fun of him, sticking his tongue out. Thee working in his office. It's their day-to-day life.
The project Peach needs to finish today has been going on for a whole year. Usually, his clients book him for a photoshoot of a person or people, in general. But this time it is a two-hundred-year-old oak tree. Its owner's family has been taking care of it generation after generation. Peach has been asked to take photos of the tree every month to celebrate its anniversary this year. It's a unique contract, but Peach always liked trying something new. And this project is nothing short of that.
The family greets him enthusiastically, offering food and drinks. Peach can't reject their kindness, especially not when he's all sore and tired from the trip. Only after that, he begins his work. Since it's the last entry to the oak tree's one-year album, Peach approaches it more seriously than ever and takes longer than usual to make sure the project wraps up in the best way it can.
He's grown attached to the tree, to its calm yet powerful presence. How much history must its roots hold? How many eyes had been set upon its trunk? How many people had found solace underneath its shade? Peach's mind comes up with various stories and possibilities.
More hours slip by.
When the leaves get painted in hues of amber, only then does Peach realize he lost track of time. The photos turned out satisfiying and the client approves without having to review them thoroughly.
"I trust you, and I trust your work, Khun Peach. They've never been bad, I tell you," she says.
"Thank you! I'll go through them again to edit. I can send you the final version by tomorrow morning."
They shake hands, and Peach gets into his car. The tree's leaves, as if saying goodbye to its photographer, tremble under a gust of wind.
You'll probably outlive me, he thinks, waving his hand at it before driving away.
The playlist is packed with Thee's favorite soundtracks from the old primetime shows, one after another. Peach doesn't sing along, but he knows all the lyrics by now. At first, he was reluctant to add them; Thee had to beg him. Despite the songs being a little bit outdated and sometimes with a cringeworthy lyric here and there, Peach finds himself nodding along with the beat. They also help him to stay alert on the road.
There aren't that many cars, so Peach lets himself relax. He only has one hour left to drive. He can't wait to take a hot shower and sleep.
Before hitting the road, Peach has notified Thee of his departure. His husband, being his usual self, sent a bunch of GIFs and stickers, all with hearts and kisses. Peach tends to text in a dry manner - short, concise, and straight to the point, but thanks to Thee, now he mixes it up a little bit, with a thumbs-up emoji and an awkwardly smiling one.
The night is young, but it gets dark outside quite fast. Thankfully, the road, despite being narrow, is newly-paved. Peach almost floats on it.
Luck has never been persistently kind to anyone. It's not something Peach believes in devotedly. Perhaps it's just life, the way it flows. But tonight, when luck is needed the most, it turns its back on him.
Peach doesn't expect it.
He doesn't have time to react; the only thing he does is grip the wheel tightly. As tight as possible. There is no space to swerve, no space to escape. Peach thinks of Thee, his family, his friends. It's a one-second film. That second unfortunately runs out, as everything in life does.
After, there is only a blaring light, blinding him.
And it's not luck.
It's danger.