Chapter Text
The internet exploded for exactly eleven days.
Perth knew because he counted.
Eleven days of headlines.
Eleven days of trending hashtags.
Eleven days of strangers debating whether Santa’s career was over because he dared to love someone publicly.
Some fans celebrated.
Some turned cruel.
Some acted personally betrayed.
Entertainment channels replayed the press conference endlessly:
Santa standing from his chair,
walking across the ballroom,
grabbing Perth’s hand like it was the easiest decision in the world.
No more hiding.
Perth still hadn’t recovered from it either.
“You know,” he muttered one morning while scrolling through social media bitterly, “I think at least six different news sites called me ‘mysterious photographer boyfriend.’”
Santa snorted softly from the kitchen.
“That’s kind of iconic actually.”
Perth looked up immediately.
And unfortunately forgot whatever complaint he’d been about to make.
Because Santa looked unfairly beautiful in morning light.
Barefoot.
Messy-haired.
Wearing one of Perth’s hoodies while making coffee like this had always been his apartment too.
Domesticity still hit Perth like emotional violence.
The past few weeks had changed everything.
Some brand deals disappeared.
Others surprisingly stayed.
Santa’s company remained furious, though significantly less powerful now that public support had divided instead of collapsing entirely.
And Santa?
Santa looked lighter.
Still tired sometimes.
Still adjusting.
But no longer hiding pieces of himself constantly.
Perth noticed the difference most at night.
No more panic attacks behind buildings.
No more pretending exhaustion was weakness.
No more forcing smiles every second of the day.
Now Santa just—
existed.
And somehow that felt more beautiful than every polished celebrity version combined.
“You’re staring again,” Santa called lazily while pouring coffee.
Perth smiled slightly.
“You’re dramatic.”
“You’re obsessed with me.”
“Unfortunately.”
Santa laughed brightly.
God.
That sound still ruined him.
The actor walked over carrying two coffee mugs before sliding naturally into Perth’s lap like he belonged there.
Which he did.
Completely.
At some point after the press conference, they’d accidentally stopped separating their lives.
Santa’s clothes slowly invaded Perth’s apartment.
Perth’s camera equipment appeared inside Santa’s condo.
Toothbrushes migrated.
Coffee preferences became memorized.
Neither officially discussed moving in together.
It just…
happened.
“You have an interview later,” Perth reminded quietly.
Santa groaned immediately, burying his face against Perth’s shoulder.
“Cancel it.”
“You can’t cancel every interview forever.”
“Watch me.”
Perth laughed softly before pressing a kiss into his hair.
“You survived the public scandal. I think you can survive one reporter.”
Santa tilted his head up slightly.
“That’s easy for you to say. You like reporters.”
“I literally hate reporters.”
“You became one.”
“Worst mistake of my life.”
Santa grinned before kissing him lazily.
Slow.
Warm.
Familiar now.
Not desperate like before.
Certain.
That was the difference these days.
Neither of them feared losing the other anymore.
And somehow that made every touch softer.
Perth brushed gentle fingers along Santa’s jaw while the actor settled comfortably against him again.
Outside, Bangkok sunlight flooded warmly through apartment windows.
Peaceful.
Finally peaceful.
“You know what’s weird?” Santa murmured quietly.
“What?”
“I used to think love would feel dramatic.”
Perth raised an eyebrow.
“Our relationship literally became national news.”
“Okay fair.” Santa laughed softly. “But I mean… this part.”
He gestured vaguely around them.
Morning coffee.
Messy blankets.
Shared silence.
Ordinary things.
“I thought it would feel bigger somehow,” Santa admitted. “Instead it just feels…” He smiled faintly. “Safe.”
The word settled deeply in Perth’s chest.
Because maybe that was always the point.
Not intensity.
Not headlines.
Safety.
Being fully seen by someone and loved anyway.
Perth kissed his forehead gently.
“I think safe is better.”
Santa looked at him softly then.
Dangerously softly.
“You know,” he whispered, “I still can’t believe you were a paparazzi photographer.”
Perth groaned immediately.
“Please let me escape my past.”
“Never.” Santa laughed quietly. “You were literally hired to stalk celebrities.”
“And now I’m dating one. Very unethical.”
“Mhm.”
“You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Santa gasped dramatically.
“You think I’m cute?”
Perth stared at him flatly.
“You publicly destroyed your career for me.”
“And?”
“And you still need verbal confirmation?”
“Yes.”
Perth rolled his eyes affectionately before pulling him into another kiss.
Santa melted instantly.
Warm hands resting against Perth’s chest while sunlight painted soft gold across the apartment around them.
For several quiet seconds, nothing existed except this.
Then Santa pulled back slightly.
Thoughtful now.
“Nervous?” Perth asked softly.
“A little.”
“About interviews?”
Santa nodded slowly.
Perth understood.
Public acceptance remained uncertain.
Questions would keep coming.
People would keep watching.
Celebrity culture never stopped consuming people.
But this time Santa wouldn’t face it alone.
Perth cupped his face gently.
“Hey.”
Santa looked up immediately.
“You don’t have to perform every second anymore.”
Emotion flickered briefly across Santa’s expression.
“You really believe that?”
Perth smiled softly.
“I think you forgot something important.”
“What?”
“You’re allowed to be happy.”
God.
The way Santa looked at him afterward nearly broke him completely.
Like nobody had ever said those words seriously before.
Then quietly—
“I love you.”
Still devastating every single time.
Perth kissed him once before answering.
“I love you too.”
—
Six months later, Perth held his first photography exhibition.
He almost canceled it twice.
Not because of nerves.
Because the exhibit felt too personal.
The gallery walls displayed dozens of photographs under one title:
REAL.
Not celebrities.
Not polished campaigns.
Not staged perfection.
Just people existing honestly.
Laughing.
Crying.
Resting.
Living.
And at the center of the gallery—
Santa.
Not the celebrity version.
Not actor Santa.
Not model Santa.
Perth’s Santa.
Sleeping on the couch beneath sunlight.
Laughing with ramen in his mouth.
Looking peaceful beside rainy windows.
Smiling softly at someone behind the camera.
At Perth.
Visitors moved quietly through the gallery while soft music played overhead.
Perth stood near the back wall pretending not to panic.
Then warm fingers slipped naturally into his hand.
He looked down immediately.
Santa smiled up at him softly.
Beautiful as always.
But real now too.
No masks.
No disguises.
Just Santa.
“You put the ugly ramen photo in here,” he whispered accusingly.
Perth looked offended.
“That’s artistic.”
“I look possessed.”
“You looked happy.”
Santa’s expression softened instantly.
Ah.
There it was.
The thing both of them still struggled getting used to.
Being loved honestly.
A journalist approached carefully nearby.
“Can I ask what inspired this exhibit?”
Perth glanced toward the photographs quietly.
Then toward Santa standing beside him.
Easy answer.
“Him,” Perth admitted simply.
Santa looked down immediately, visibly flustered.
Cute.
The reporter smiled slightly.
“Your work captures people very intimately.”
Perth’s fingers tightened gently around Santa’s hand.
“I think people are most beautiful when they forget they’re being watched.”
The words lingered quietly afterward.
Because that had always been the truth.
Perth never fell in love with celebrity Santa.
He fell in love with:
the tired rooftop version,
the sleepy taxi version,
the boy who just wanted somewhere safe to exist.
And now—
Santa no longer had to hide those pieces of himself away.
Later that night, after the gallery emptied and Bangkok settled into soft midnight glow, Santa stood outside beneath city lights waiting while Perth adjusted his camera one last time.
“You’re working even now?” Santa complained dramatically.
Perth smiled behind the lens.
“One final photo.”
Santa sighed exaggeratedly but moved closer anyway.
Warm wind drifted softly through quiet streets.
No screaming crowds.
No hidden fear.
No disguises.
Just them.
Santa looked toward the camera.
Then toward Perth instead.
Softly.
Lovingly.
Completely.
And for the first time since the night they met—
Perth finally took the photograph without feeling guilty.
Click.
The image captured everything:
warm eyes,
city lights,
love without hiding.
Beautiful.
Real.
Only his.