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The stadium lights blazed like stars. Santa stood in the center of the stage, chest rising and falling with each breathless note. JASP.ER’s set was a success, the fans chanted their names, waved their flash on phones like constellations, and sang every lyric back louder than the speakers.
Santa smiled, winked at the crowd, and touched his heart. He loved this, they all did. Every city, every fanmeet, every moment where the music wrapped around them like magic.
But the second the fanmeets ended and the lights dimmed, the high began to fade. The crowd’s energy echoed in his chest, but it wasn’t enough to fill the quiet ache he’d been carrying.
His phone buzzed in the dressing room. Not a message, just the wallpaper: a photo of Santa holding Perth’s chin while wearing one of his blouses, not forgetting their red thread that hung on each other's wrists.
God, he missed him.
Santa held the phone in both hands. The fans saw the glitter and glamour, but they didn't see this part. The part where he walked alone back to a hotel room that smelt like soap not home. The part where all the things he wanted to say were stuck in his throat every time he almost called.
And tonight, the missing got too loud to ignore.
He tapped on FaceTime.
Waiting for his boyfriend’s face to show up.
Perth had just finished washing his face, still patting it dry when his phone rang. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the name: Tata 🖤
It was late. Past midnight. He hadn’t expected a call, not tonight, not really any night anymore. Santa had been busy with fanmeet schedules, rehearsals, and interviews. Perth understood, he really did.
Fingers trembling a little, Perth accepted the FaceTime call. The screen flickered and there he was.
Santa.
Face framed by the hood of a worn gray hoodie, glitter still clinging faintly to the corners of his eyes. His hair was messy, his cheeks flushed, and his expression: tired, soft, fragile. They were in a way where Perth rarely saw.
“Santa?” He called out, gently.
“Hi,” came the reply, quiet and slightly choked. Then nothing. Just breathing. Just looking. Perth felt a lump rise in his throat, “you called.” Santa gave a faint smile replying awkwardly, “I didn’t know if I should.”
“Why?”
Santa bit his lip, “because I knew the second I heard your voice, I’d miss you even more.” Perth exhaled shakily, tears slowly cascading, “I miss you every second. Even when I’m not thinking about you, I’m missing you. It’s as if my body knows you’re not here.”
Santa’s shoulder dipped, like those words untied something inside him. He leaned back against the hotel headboard, eyes glassy. “I feel so far away from everything. I love the fans, the stage, but after the lights go down and the cheering fades…It’s just me and this room that doesn’t even have a hint of your scent.”
Perth’s heart ached,”Tata…”
“I keep reaching for you when I sleep,” Santa whispered, blinking quickly. “Sometimes I wake up thinking your hand should be in mine. And when it’s not, I feel so stupid for forgetting.”
“You’re not stupid,” Perth said softly. “You’re just in love. And far away.” Santa laughed, just once, broken and wet. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to cry and kiss someone at the same time this badly.”
Perth smiled gently, even as his own eyes stung. “You always say the sappiest things when you’re emotional.” Santa giggled under his breath, “You love it.”
“I do,” Perth whispered. “I love you.”
Santa stared at him through the screen, voice barely a whisper, “Are we okay?” Perth sat down on the couch, cradling the phone in both hands like it was the most fragile thing in the world. “We’re more than okay. We’re still us. Even if it hurts. Even with the distance. I never stopped waiting for you.”
Santa looked like he wanted to crawl through the screen and into his boyfriend’s arms. “You’re the best thing in my whole damn life, you know that?”
“I know, and you’re mine,” Perth replied back, patting his tears dry.
There was silence again, heavy but safe. Santa wiped at his cheeks, let out a quiet breath, and murmured, “I’ll be home to you soon.”
“I’ll be right here,” Perth reassured. “Same place, same heart.”
They didn’t hang up for another hour. Even when the words stopped, the screen stayed on - two people, thousands of miles apart, breathing in sync, not ready to let go just yet.
———
The call had ended twenty minutes ago, but Santa’s screen still glowed softly in the dark. His heart felt like it had been wrung out, held up to the lights, and gently pieced back together with every word Perth said. Not because it was painful, but because it reminded him what home sounded like.
He laid back against the pillows, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. The hotel room was quiet, too quiet. But this time it didn’t feel empty. Perth’s voice still echoed in his mind, “I never stopped waiting for you.”
Santa turned over onto his side, pulled the hoodie Perth left him months ago over his arms, and held his phone to his chest. His eyes prickled, a soft ache of missing mixed with something warmer: hope.
He whispered, not for anyone to hear but himself, “I’ll be back in your arms soon.”
And for the first time in weeks, he fell asleep smiling.
Two days before Santa’s flight home, Perth decided he wanted to do something for Santa when he landed. He sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by scattered markers, glitter glue, and a large piece of my cardboard that used to be the back of their TV box.
He frowned at the first draft. Crumpled it. Started again.
What was the right mix of funny and romantic? He wanted Santa to laugh, but also melt. Also maybe tear up a little.he deserved a full emotional breakdown at the arrivals gate.
So he started writing: “WELCOME BACK, MY TATA” Then underneath, in slightly smaller letters, with a fat pink heart: “(Domiia misses his papa!)” He snorted softly, it was so cheesy. But also so them.
As the glue dried, he stepped back and stared at it. It looked ridiculous, sparkly, and like it had been made by a ten-year-old on a sugar rush.
Perfect.
He waited these long days watching compilations of them made by loving fans - it was sweet and some moments gained a laughter out of him.
———
At last, his long, excruciating days were over and he stood between the doors waiting for the beagle-like face to pop up.
The plane touched down with a soft jolt, and Santa’s heart jolted with it.
After weeks of endless cities, echoing stadiums, and hotel rooms that never quite felt like his own, this was the moment he’d been clinging to in quiet hours. The one that got him through red-eye flights and late-night rehearsals. Through stage lights and exhaustion.
Home.
Bangkok air hit him like warmth and memory as he stepped through the arrivals gate, adjusting his cap low and scanning the crowd, the duffle strap heavy across his shoulder. He told himself not to turn. To be cool. Chill. But then, he saw it.
A ridiculous, sparkling cardboard sign held proudly above the heads of a waiting crowd. It was covered in glitter stars and drawn-on cats. It looked like chaos. It looked like love. And it was held by the one person Santa had been aching for every night.
Perth stood there grinning, eyes already teary, biting the inside of his cheek like he was holding in either a sob or a laugh. Santa stopped walking for a second. His throat closed up.
It was real. He was real.
The crowd didn’t matter. The cameras didn’t matter. The noise faded. There was only one person in the world right now. He dropped his bag.
And ran.
Straight into Perth’s arms, nearly knocking them both over. Perth let out a breathless laugh, wrapping him up so tight it felt like the final piece sliding back into place.
“Hi,” Santa whispered, voice shaky and muffled against Perth’s shoulder.
Perth’s fingers curled in his hoodie. “Hi. You’re here. You’re really here.”
Santa buried his face in his neck, holding him like he could stay there forever. “I missed you. I missed you so much it made me stupid.”
“You’re lucky I like stupid people,” Perth murmured, voice wet with a laugh-cry. “I made you a sign.”
“I saw,” Santa said, pulling back just enough to look at him. “It’s beautiful. Just like you. Just like this.”
Behind them, Santa’s bandmates were watching the whole scene unfold. Joong brought out his phone not wanting to forget this moment, Aou teased them with phrases like, “He’s actually here with a sign,” and lastly, Pond took the moment thinking how special they were to each other.
Santa didn’t care. He cupped Perth’s cheeks gently, thumbs brushing along his jaw, “Thank you for waiting for me.” Perth leaned in, eyes filled with tears, “Always.”
Santa kissed him softly, just once, just enough. Right there at arrivals. He didn’t care who saw. This wasn’t about them. It was about finally making home to the person who never stopped making space for him.
And when they pulled away, Perth laced their fingers together. “Ready?” he asked, voice warm like sunlights.
Santa nodded, “let’s go home.”
The entered the van, hand-in-hand - never wanting to let go, the two immediately wrapped their arms around each other. They finally reached home.