Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The music pulsed through the rooftop, lights flickering like a heartbeat in sync with the laughter and footsteps swirling around the pool.
Santa Pongsapak adjusted the cuffs of his denim jacket for the third time, squinting as glitter lights bounced off glass. He wasn’t the party type, not really. Especially not industry parties.
“Remind me why I agreed to this again?” he asked, nursing a strawberry soda like it was a rare vintage wine.
“Because I blackmailed you,” Fourth said cheerfully, balancing a cupcake on his plate with practiced ease. “Also, you said you were bored, and I know for a fact that your idea of a wild Friday night is watching cooking shows with subtitles.”
Santa rolled his eyes. “I was learning. The dumplings looked good.”
“Point is,” Fourth interrupted, “you need to meet people. Network. Maybe flirt with a rich director or a cute singer.”
As if summoned by Fourth’s joke, the crowd shifted—and in walked Perth Thanapon.
Santa didn’t see him at first. He felt him.
There was something about the way the room changed. Heads turned. Conversations stalled and picked up again, eyes trailing toward the man in black jeans and a weathered band tee, walking in with Ohm on one side and Gemini on the other. All three were members of G-POW, but Perth was the one that owned the space.
Santa exhaled. “That’s—Perth, right?”
Fourth followed his gaze. “Yup. G-POW’s lead vocalist. Your one-night-stand dream. Also allegedly a heartbreaker.”
“Heartbreaker?”
“Rumors,” Fourth replied, nonchalantly licking frosting. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”
Santa couldn’t look away. He wasn’t sure if it was the confidence or maybe the fact that Perth looked like he lived in his lyrics—intense, soulful, slightly messed up. He looked untouchable.
So of course, Perth spotted him instantly.
Their eyes met across the rooftop. Santa, halfway through pretending to be invisible, choked slightly on his soda. Perth smiled. Not a polite industry smile, but the kind that was soft around the corners, curious.
“Don’t stare,” Fourth hissed, clearly delighted.
“I’m not—”
“Too late.”
Perth walked toward them, each step purposeful and smooth like the opening verse of a song. Santa tried not to panic. He failed.
“Hey,” Perth said, voice low and husky, like someone who’d lived on late-night rehearsals and black coffee. “Santa, right?”
Santa blinked. “You know my name?”
Perth laughed gently. “I watched that lakorn you were in. The one with the runaway groom. You were good.”
Santa flushed. “I was only in three episodes.”
“Still. You stood out.” Perth paused. “Want to get out of here?”
Santa blinked again. “Out of the party?”
“Too loud to talk here,” Perth said, eyes twinkling. “Unless you’re scared of me.”
That was all it took. One nod. One smirk. One slow walk out of the rooftop bar and into the Bangkok night.
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They ended up at a boutique hotel not far from the river. The suite was cozy, minimalist, with fairy lights by the window and warm hardwood floors. It smelled faintly like lemongrass and linen.
Santa had never done this before—well, not like this. There had been dates. Kisses. Maybe a few hands under shirts. But not this kind of instant chemistry. Not the kind where your whole body felt like it was tuned to someone else’s.
Perth was careful, despite the rumors. Gentle with his touch, generous with his attention. He kissed like someone who wrote lyrics about heartbreak but hadn’t quite believed in love—yet.
They talked between kisses, laughed between clothes hitting the floor.
“You’re not what I expected,” Santa whispered against his collarbone.
“What did you expect?”
“Something louder. More… rockstar.”
Perth grinned, tracing a line down Santa’s spine. “I get that a lot.”
It was Santa’s first time, so he was scared to get hurt. But Perth was nothing but an angel that night: going at the younger's pace, whispering soothing words to his ear, soft caresses.
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Later, tangled in sheets, Santa watched the ceiling, heartbeat slowly syncing with the rhythm of the city below.
Perth had fallen asleep beside him, one hand still resting on Santa’s waist.
Santa turned to look at him. Peaceful. Beautiful. And then—softly, like a sigh, Perth murmured:
“William…”
Santa froze.
His heart thudded once, twice, painfully.
William.
So that’s who he loved. A boyfriend? An ex?
He stared at the ceiling again. The spell was broken. His chest ached, embarrassment spreading like frostbite.
He slid out of bed slowly, quietly gathering his clothes. Perth didn’t stir.
By the time Santa reached the hallway, he wasn’t even sure what hurt more—the fact that he’d believed in magic for a moment, or that it had only taken one name to end it.