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Benz, a famous actor in Thailand, was no stranger to the spotlight. His fanbase stretched across the country, his face gracing billboards, magazines, and TV screens, but one night, at a private party, things took an unexpected turn.
As he made his way to the back door to sneak out, trying to avoid the paparazzi waiting at the front, his escape took a sudden detour. The door swung open and hit someone standing outside.
“Hey!” The person yelped, rubbing their head in surprise, but then their expression froze. They looked up and locked eyes with Benz.
They had almost gotten angry, but then, he recognized the look. The person wasn’t starstruck, nor did they seem impressed by Benz’s fame. They just seemed...annoyed.
Before Benz could even react, the stranger opened their mouth. “Oh, it’s you.”
Benz quickly covered the person’s mouth with his hand. “Hey, I know you know me, but don’t shout. Please, I’ll sign anything—your shirt, your notebook—just don’t tell anyone I’m here.”
The person pushed his hand away and glared at him, unimpressed. “Well, Khun Benz, I don’t care about your stupid signature. Can you just go away so I can continue my job?” With that, the person turned to walk away.
Benz stood there, stunned. It was the first time anyone had ever responded to him like that. No admiration, no excitement. Just irritation.
“Wait,” Benz called out before the person could leave. “What’s your name?”
The stranger turned back and handed Benz a business card. “Garfield,” he said flatly. “And by the way, can you compensate me for the injury? My head hurts like hell. PromptPay is fine.”
Benz blinked, processing the request for a moment, but then he smiled to himself. Garfield...
The next day, Benz found himself reaching out to Garfield. He offered him a job as his personal assistant, but he never expected that what started as a simple professional arrangement would evolve into something much more personal.
As Benz sat at his desk, reviewing some notes for an upcoming project, Garfield knocked and entered the room. He was holding a cup of coffee, his usual no-nonsense attitude still intact.
“You look like you’re drowning in scripts,” Garfield remarked, placing the coffee down beside him with a teasing smile. “Need a hand?”
Benz chuckled, looking up from his work. “I could always use an extra set of hands.”
“You know,” Garfield leaned against the desk, folding his arms, “you don’t have to pretend to be perfect all the time. Everyone knows you're busy.”
Benz raised an eyebrow. “Pretend? I am perfect,” he joked, leaning back in his chair with a playful smirk.
Garfield rolled his eyes, a knowing smile on his lips. “Yeah, right. And the fact that you’re practically a walking, talking billboard for perfection doesn't make you feel trapped at all?”
Benz froze for a moment, his expression softening. He hadn't really thought about it that way before. “I guess I never really questioned it.”
Garfield leaned in a little, looking at Benz with those piercing eyes. “Well, it’s exhausting to try to be someone you’re not. Doesn’t that get old?”
Benz couldn’t help but laugh. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”
“No point in pretending,” Garfield shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re just a guy, Benz. Famous, yeah, but still just a guy.”
Benz felt a warmth spread through him as he watched Garfield, a rare and genuine smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I like that. Most people don’t see me that way.”
“That’s their problem,” Garfield said it like it was the simplest thing in the world, but to Benz, it was a revelation.
Later that afternoon, Benz caught Garfield making one of his usual sarcastic jokes during a meeting, and he couldn’t stop laughing.
“You know, you’re actually pretty funny,” Benz said, his voice lighter than usual. He wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “I didn’t expect that from you.”
Garfield looked over at him, a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. “I’ve got layers, Benz. Don’t let the tough guy exterior fool you.”
“I’m starting to see that,” Benz replied, his gaze lingering on Garfield for a second longer than he intended. “There’s more to you than I thought.”
Garfield smirked, walking past Benz to grab some files from the shelf. “Yeah, well, don’t go getting any funny ideas about me. I’m still just here to help with your ‘perfect’ life.”
“Perfect, huh?” Benz sighed, leaning back in his chair, watching him. “I don’t know anymore. Sometimes I wish I could just walk away from it all.”
Garfield turned back, locking eyes with Benz. “Then why don’t you? You’re not your image, you know. You’re allowed to just be…you. I think that’s what people miss about you.”
Benz was silent for a moment, his thoughts swirling. “I don’t know if I can,” he admitted, the weight of his world pressing down on him.
Garfield’s expression softened, and for the first time, Benz saw something more—compassion, maybe, or understanding. “You don’t have to be perfect for me, Benz. You’re already enough.”
Benz's heart skipped a beat, but he said nothing. Instead, he simply smiled. “Thanks, Garfield.”
As the days went on, their relationship shifted. Benz began noticing how Garfield made him feel like a person, not a brand. It was the little things that stuck with him—how Garfield always called him “Benz” instead of “Khun Benz,” how he didn’t shy away from teasing him, or how he’d always make fun of the extravagant things Benz would be offered at events.
One evening, as they were heading to the car after a long day of meetings, Garfield casually nudged Benz with his elbow.
“You know,” Garfield said with a grin, “if you didn’t have so much fame, you could probably live a really normal life. Like...I don’t know, work at a coffee shop or something?”
Benz laughed, surprised by the thought. “I can’t imagine myself as a barista.”
Garfield chuckled. “You’d be good at it. I can already see it—‘Famous actor serves coffee to regulars while trying to blend in.’ I’d totally come visit you.”
Benz paused, his smile fading slightly as he looked at Garfield. “I don’t know if I’d be any good at being normal. I’ve spent so much time trying to be ‘perfect,’ I don’t remember what it’s like to just be…me.”
Garfield stopped walking, turning to face him. “Then let me remind you.”
Benz felt a knot form in his chest, realizing how much he had come to rely on Garfield’s honesty, and how much he admired the way Garfield didn’t let fame—or the pressures of it—define him.
“I think I need that,” Benz whispered, more to himself than to Garfield.
Garfield’s smile softened, and he shrugged, looking away with a slight blush on his cheeks. “Well, then, I’m happy to help.”
He went along with it, and that just made Benz even happier, grinning to himself like a total goofball. Anyone watching on set could see him smiling ear to ear, looking a bit like a lunatic lost in his own world of joy, but his manager, who was in the loop about what was really going on, knew it was time to step in. He watched Benz's carefree antics with a furrowed brow, ready to confront him before things got any more out of hand.
One evening, while working in the office, Garfield overheard a conversation between Benz and his manager that shattered him.
“So, do you like him?” the manager asked casually, his tone more curious than anything.
“Who? Garfield?” Benz asked, clearly surprised.
His manager nodded.
Benz hesitated. “I mean, he’s cute and hot, but…” He sighed. “I live in a world where everything I do needs to be perfect. Every interaction, every appearance needs to have value. I’ve been curated to be the perfect actor, the perfect prince charming, and that’s how the world sees me. And while Garfield’s great, he... just doesn’t fit in.”
Garfield froze in place. His chest tightened. He doesn’t fit in? He turned and quietly walked away, his heart heavy.
What Benz didn’t realize was that Garfield had heard him. While he wasn’t able to hear what Benz had to say next, he understood that what Benz failed to express was the truth left in his heart—the truth he was too scared to admit aloud.
As soon as Garfield left, Benz turned to his manager. “But I love him,” he whispered, almost as if the words had been waiting to escape. “And I’m willing to give up everything—the fame, the perfect image—just to be with him.”
The next few days felt like a blur for Benz. The words he had said to his manager replayed in his mind over and over: “While Garfield’s great, he...just doesn’t fit in.” At first, he tried to convince himself it had been an offhand remark, a moment of frustration, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized the weight of what he’d said and how much it would hurt Garfield if he heard him. The last thing he wanted was to lose him.
The problem was, Benz didn’t know for sure if Garfield had overheard him. Garfield had disappeared right after their encounter, and Benz hadn’t had the chance to explain himself or apologize, but as the days passed, Benz couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that Garfield had heard. It was like an instinct, a gut feeling that had been gnawing at him.
He couldn’t keep going like this. He needed to find Garfield. He needed to make it right.
Benz decided to leave the city. He packed a small bag, throwing caution to the wind, and bought a ticket to the small town where Garfield was from. The thought of showing up unannounced, of searching for him, felt reckless—but Benz had never felt more sure of anything. He was tired of hiding behind the perfect image everyone else expected of him. If he had to lose everything, even his career, just to show Garfield the truth, then he would.
☕
When Benz arrived in Garfield’s hometown, the streets felt unfamiliar, quiet compared to the chaos of the city. It was a strange kind of peace, the kind Benz hadn’t experienced in years. He asked around, trying to find where Garfield lived or worked, but the people in the town didn’t recognize the name. This only made Benz feel more anxious. He had no clue where Garfield might be, but he wasn’t about to give up.
After hours of wandering, Benz finally stumbled upon a small café. It had an old-fashioned charm, with a wooden sign hanging above the door and the smell of freshly brewed coffee drifting out. As Benz stepped inside, the quiet hum of conversation stopped for a moment. His eyes scanned the room, searching for Garfield, and then he saw him—cleaning a table, his sleeves rolled up, wearing a simple shirt and an apron.
For a moment, Benz froze. Garfield looked so...ordinary, so human, and yet, in this moment, that was exactly what Benz needed. He could hardly believe he was here, standing in front of the man who had made him feel like someone real, not just an image.
Benz took a deep breath and walked toward the counter. “Garfield,” he called out, his voice unsure.
Garfield looked ready to turn and run, but before he could, Benz rushed forward. “Please don’t go,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “I was wrong. I’m sorry for what I said. I don’t care about the image, about the fame. All I care about is you.”
Garfield stood still for a moment, watching Benz, his eyes narrowing slightly. There was an unreadable expression on his face, but Benz could see the hurt in his gaze. The silence between them stretched on, thick and heavy.
Garfield finally spoke, his voice quieter now, though still guarded. “You think you can just show up and apologize for something like that? Do you even know what it’s like to be treated like you don’t belong? To feel like you’re just...a footnote in someone else’s story?”
Benz flinched, the words stinging, but he didn’t back down. “I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just want you to know that I do care. And I want to make things right, however I can. I’ve spent so much of my life being someone I thought people wanted me to be, and I’ve lost track of what really matters. What really matters is you.”
Garfield looked away, his jaw tightening. For a second, it seemed like he was about to say something, but then he shook his head. “You don’t get it, Benz. You’re still thinking about this as if it’s some kind of problem to be solved, as if I’m just some...obstacle. You’ve lived your whole life surrounded by cameras and expectations, and I don’t think you even know what it means to just...live without them.”
Benz’s chest tightened at the words. He could feel the weight of everything he had ignored for so long. “I know I’ve messed up,” he said softly. “And I know I can’t just walk into your life and expect everything to be okay. But I’m willing to try, Garfield. If you’ll let me.”
“I’m here because I want to understand you. And I want to be with you—really be with you. No more pretending. I’m here to ask you to be mine, if you want to.” Benz’s voice was steady, yet full of vulnerability.
Garfield hesitated, his eyes searching Benz’s face for any trace of doubt. “Does that mean I have to be the perfect, valuable person to stand by your side?” His voice was quiet, tinged with a mix of uncertainty and hope.
Benz shook his head, a gentle smile spreading across his face. “No, Garfield. You’re perfect just the way you are. You don’t need to change for anyone. Especially not for me.”
Garfield’s expression softened, but a hint of mischief flickered in his eyes. “So I don’t have to be a star to be with you?” he asked, his lips curving into a teasing smile. “No fancy suits, no image? Do I need to wear a disguise to avoid the paparazzi, or is that part of the deal too?”
Benz chuckled, the sound rich with affection. “No disguise necessary. Everyone knows who you are now, and more importantly, I love you, Garfield. I don’t care what anyone else thinks, not when it comes to you.”
Garfield’s cheeks flushed, a deep crimson spreading across his face, and Benz couldn’t help but smile at how endearing he looked. “But, you know, I do love seeing you in those cool shades. You look like a celebrity yourself,” Benz added, teasing gently.
Garfield laughed, his nervousness melting away in the warmth of Benz’s words. The distance between them closed in an instant, and their eyes met with an unspoken understanding. Garfield leaned in, his breath mingling with Benz’s, and as the world around them seemed to fade away, they shared a kiss—a kiss that was soft, lingering, and full of promises for the future.
It wasn’t just the kiss of two people finally admitting what they had been hiding for so long; it was the kiss that sealed their love, one that didn’t need perfection to thrive. It was simply the kiss of two people who had found something real—something that could never be faked.
And in that moment, both Benz and Garfield knew: they didn’t need the world’s approval. They only needed each other.