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Perth stood at the edge of his narrow dorm bed, sheets twisted from restless sleep, and in the center of it all - a small, stubborn lump.
Santa had stolen his pillow again.
Curly hair spilled over his forehead in soft rebellion, lashes resting heavy against warm cheeks still faintly flushed from last night’s tears. His fingers were curled possessively into the cotton as if even in dreams he refused to let Perth go.
His breathing was even now. Calm. Finally.
Perth’s chest loosened.
He leaned down slowly, careful not to disturb the fragile peace, and pressed a soft kiss into Santa’s hair.
"Sleep a little more, my beloved."
Santa’s lips curved faintly, then dropped into a sleepy pout. A quiet whine slipped out as he hugged the pillow tighter.
Perth huffed a small laugh under his breath and pulled the blanket up to Santa’s chin, tucking it in around him like something precious.
Last night had been hard.
Assignments stacked like mountains. Deadlines closing in. And Santa, who always tried to be brave about everything, finally crumbling under the weight of it.
He had cried against Perth’s neck, words tangled and breath hitching, apologizing for things that were never his fault. Perth had simply held him. Whispered steady, grounding things. One sentence at a time. One breath at a time.
Eventually Santa had fallen asleep still clinging to his shirt, face pressed crookedly against his collarbone like that was the only place in the world that made sense.
Perth glanced at the clock.
Presentation in fifteen minutes.
He grabbed his wallet and keys from the table, then hesitated. Walked back.
One more kiss. This time to Santa’s cheek.
A soft protest. The pillow squeezed tighter.
Perth tapped his nose gently.
"Why are you even cuter when you’re not trying, hm?"
He shook his head at himself, forcing his lovesick expression into something presentable. Pond would absolutely mock him if he showed up smiling like this.
Still, when he slipped out of the room, the smile stayed.
Let Pond call it creepy.
Perth called it surviving on love.
𓍯 ִֶָ 🎀.
The younger boy stretched awake with a loud yawn, barely catching it with his palm. He rubbed at his eyes and sat up, blanket still wrapped around him like armor against the world.
Santa blinked at his phone.
Of course there were messages.
"Don't forget to have your breakfast. TaTa."
"And I already arranged your assignments. Just take them from our table."
And more. Soft reminders. Gentle care folded into text bubbles.
A smile bloomed across his face, helpless and pink at the edges.
No matter how many years passed, Perth’s small acts still made him blush like an eighteen year old with a secret crush.
Santa typed back quickly.
"Happy Hug Day, baby."
A smug little curve touched his lips. He knew exactly what that word did to Perth. Red ears. Pink cheeks. Neck flushed like sunrise.
His mind drifted.
Their confession had been awkward and tangled. Perth had been nervous, confused, afraid. Santa had not been. He had wanted the whole world to know.
They were eighteen. Clumsy. Honest. Terrified.
They fought. They disagreed. They sulked. But they always returned to each other like oxygen returning to lungs that had forgotten how to breathe.
A shy smile lingered on his face.
His phone rang.
Phuwin.
Santa’s expression collapsed instantly.
"What do youuu want, Phi Phuuuu?" he whined.
"Do not tell me you were daydreaming about your boyfriend again." Phuwin sounded tired of being right.
"So what if I was? He is perfect. Handsome. Lovely. Should I ask him out, Phi? What if he rejects me?"
There was a long sigh from the other end.
"Santa Pongsapak. That perfect, handsome, lovely person is already your boyfriend. Possibly your husband in a few years."
"HUSBAND? PHI. I AM NOT READY TO BE HIS HUSBAND. WHAT IF I EMBARRASS MYSELF?"
"You embarrass yourself daily. Now get ready. I am outside. If you are not out in ten minutes, I am doing black magic to make your boyfriend fall in love with someone else."
"NOOOO, PHI. I am coming. I swear."
He leapt out of bed.
And immediately hit the floor.
Phuwin winced through the phone.
"Oww. That hurt."
"Check the floor too. A giant just fell on it."
Santa pouted. Phuwin could picture it perfectly.
"You better not sulk or the chips I brought are going to someone else."
"Who is sulking? I am so happy," Santa sang, already scrambling up.
He got ready in record time and bolted out.
Phuwin stood there with a stack of library books and fries in the other hand. Before greeting him, Santa stole the fries.
Phuwin exhaled slowly, choosing peace.
"Let’s go. We have to finish the assignment."
"You have to, Phi Phu." Santa proudly pulled his own assignment from his pink tote bag. "Perth helped me."
Phuwin stared at him. Betrayal. Then calculation.
Santa’s soul left his body.
"No. No."
"I am tearing this apart."
They sprinted down the hallway like children, Santa laughing and pleading while Phuwin chased him with dramatic threats.
They finally stopped in front of the cafeteria, breathless, stomachs growling.
One glare from Phuwin. One wide eyed pout from Santa.
Deal made.
Santa would help him later. Benefits of sharing the same major - clinical psychology.
They walked through the cafeteria with trays in hand. Santa chatted endlessly. Phuwin half listened, scanning the room.
"Is that Perth? Why is he sitting there with... my boyfriend?"
Santa’s gaze finally lifted from his fries.
"What are they doing here? Nara said he had class."
Santa stuffed three fries into his mouth before answering.
"Maybe it got cancelled, Phi."
He shoved the remaining fries into Phuwin’s hand and grabbed his wrist.
They were already moving toward the table.
𓍯 ִֶָ 🎀.
Pond and Perth were drowning in stress.
“I swear she gave us another assignment on purpose,” Pond muttered, letting his forehead drop dramatically onto the table. “Just because she does not have anyone to celebrate Valentine’s with does not mean we should suffer.”
Perth huffed quietly but said nothing.
The class had been cancelled, technically. Cancelled only to assign them more work and dismiss them with a polite smile.
“I wanted to do something grand,” Pond groaned, lifting his head just enough to glare at nothing. “Three days in Chiang Mai. He misses his family. Then dinner at his favorite place when we get back. And a promise ring.”
Perth glanced at him. “You can still do it.”
“Do you think Phuwin will go? He will glue himself here to help me finish this assignment. You know how he is.”
Before Perth could answer, a familiar voice rang across the cafeteria.
“PHII PERTH.”
Perth did not even pretend to be calm. The stress vanished from his face in an instant.
He stood just as Santa launched himself forward without hesitation, arms wrapping around him as if the entire cafeteria did not exist.
It did not.
Perth caught him automatically, one arm circling his waist, the other supporting his thighs. Secure. Familiar. Effortless.
Around them, eyes rolled in synchronized disapproval.
“What is it, my beloved?” Perth murmured against his ear.
Santa’s face flushed instantly. He buried it into Perth’s neck, voice softer now.
“Nothing. I just missed you. And it is Hug Day. You should hug me until I smell like you.”
Perth laughed under his breath and sat back down, keeping Santa anchored in his lap.
“Hello? We are still here,” Pond waved a hand in front of them.
Neither responded.
“You already smell like me,” Perth said quietly, fingers sliding through Santa’s curls. “All the time.”
Phuwin gently tugged at Pond’s wrist.
“Come on. Let us leave them before they forget we exist.”
He also took the fries. On purpose.
Soon, the noise of their friends faded.
Santa lifted his head slightly. “Did they leave?”
Perth nodded, smiling. “Phu stole your fries.”
“You can buy me more, right?” Santa tilted his head, eyes hopeful, fingers warm where they rested against Perth’s chest.
Perth did not even try to resist. He never could.
The cafeteria noise blurred into something distant. Just movement and color without meaning.
Santa looked at him properly then. Really looked.
His eyes traced familiar territory. Dark lashes. The bridge of his nose. The curve of his mouth.
He leaned in first.
The kiss was not dramatic. Just soft and certain. A brief press of lips that carried years inside it.
When they parted, Perth rested his forehead lightly against Santa’s.
“You still have class.”
A reluctant hum answered him.
“Let me walk you.”
Santa nodded, though he stayed in his arms a second longer, as if memorizing the warmth.
Eventually, they stood.
Hands intertwined. Fingers fitting easily together.
They walked out of the cafeteria side by side, leaving behind assignments, stress, and the faint echo of friends pretending not to be fond of them.
𓍯 ִֶָ 🎀.
Perth was panicking.
Valentine’s Day was tomorrow. He had already bought everything he needed, every piece carefully chosen, hidden, guarded. But how was he supposed to make it with Santa orbiting him twenty four seven like an affectionate moon?
His phone rang before his thoughts could spiral further.
My Beloved 🤍🪐 is calling…
He picked up after two rings.
"Hello baby?"
A soft pause. Then a whisper.
"Phiii. I am at the library. I will come back late today."
Perth blinked. The library? At this hour?
"Everything is okay, right baby?"
"Yes, yes Phi. I… we just have an assignment to finish. I will be back at 12:00."
"This late? What library is open this late?"
"Ah…"
A shuffle. Then another voice cut in.
"We will go to my dorm room. Now bye, we have work to do."
The line went dead before Perth could protest.
He stared at his screen, confused, until a message popped up.
"Sorry Phi. Phi Phuwin is cranky today. I will come back later. Take care of yourself. I have already prepared food in advance. Don't forget to eat."
Perth’s chest tightened in the softest way. Even while "busy", Santa still thought about whether he would eat.
He sat down on his bed, the LEGO sets waiting like patient secrets.
He had wanted tulips at first. They did not have tulips. So he chose the lotus. Because Santa once said lotus flowers bloom even in muddy water. Because Santa bloomed even when he felt overwhelmed and messy and not enough.
And cherry blossoms. Because they fall gently. The way Santa’s laughter spills when he gets shy.
His fingers trembled slightly as he opened the box. Excitement. Nerves. Hope stitched together.
Will he like it?
He shook his head, focusing. He opened the manual, tore open the white packet, and poured the pieces onto his bed. Plastic clicked softly against fabric.
Before starting, he grabbed his phone.
He wanted to tease him.
But his grin faltered when he saw a new message.
My Beloved 🤍🪐
"I am making something for you Phii. I am so excited for you to see it. 😉"
Perth froze.
Now his heart was racing for a completely different reason.
What if Santa did not like what he made?
He typed back quickly.
"I am making something for you too, my beloved."
He set his phone down, smiling so wide it almost hurt. The butterflies in his stomach were no longer fluttering. They were throwing a full festival.
And somewhere across campus, two boys were building love in secret, piece by careful piece.
𓍯 ִֶָ 🎀.
Santa sat alone in Phuwin’s dorm.
Phuwin had escaped to Pond’s room, and his roommate was gone too, likely wrapped up in his own love story somewhere else. The room was quiet. Almost ceremonial.
Markers, paint pens, brushes, and color palettes were scattered across the bed like a tiny art storm. In the middle, his sketchbook lay open, waiting.
Santa scrolled through Pinterest, adding the final touches to his private board titled "My Baby."
Private. Because Perth followed him there. They had shared boards, full of obvious sweetness. But this one was his secret constellation. Just for Phi Perth. Just for him.
When the board finally felt complete, he set his phone down and picked up his pencil.
The first thing he glued onto the page were two saniplast strips crossed over each other, tilted just right so they looked like they were hugging. He outlined them carefully, then filled the surrounding space with scattered colored hearts.
His excitement spilled into every line. Every stroke. He was practically vibrating.
Four Valentine’s Days.
Four years of choosing each other.
And still, his hands shook like it was the first time.
He remembered last year. Perth had bought him three plushies. They now lived mostly under the bed because Perth, for reasons unknown to science, slept like a malfunctioning clock. Limbs everywhere. Blanket fighting for survival.
The only time he slept peacefully was when Santa was locked in his arms, secured like something precious.
Santa smiled at the memory and bent back over his drawing, feet kicking softly in the air.
His phone chimed.
"I am making something for you too, my beloved."
A squeal slipped out before he could stop it. His stomach tightened, fluttering wildly. Perth had that effect on him. Always.
He put the phone away with trembling fingers and picked up the scissors.
He folded the paper in half. Cut a neat box shape from the center. Folded it both ways until it created a small grid.
On the clean white page, he kept the center space open. He wanted Perth’s eyes to land on the words first.
Tiny pink and brown hearts were scattered across the page. Slightly uneven. Drawn while smiling.
On the left side, in bold black letters, he wrote:
"ALL I CAN SAY IS I WAS"
And beneath it, in warm yellow:
"ENCHANTED TO MEET YOU"
In the center sat the folded grid of pink squares. Each little box filled with colorful letters and small hearts. Playful at first glance. But intentional. A code only Perth would decode. Their language. Their universe.
Around it, he drew deep purple roses. Dramatic petals layered thickly. Almost protective.
One rose stood alone at the bottom. Like a signature.
Santa stared at it for a moment, then folded the card gently and slid it into his sketchbook.
11:50 PM.
His heart started racing.
He packed everything quickly, footsteps light in the hallway as he made his way back to his own dorm.
The lights inside were dim.
Maybe Perth was already asleep.
A soft smile tugged at his lips.
He pulled out his keys carefully. He had removed the guitar keychain Perth gifted him. No noise tonight. No accidental betrayal.
He eased the door open.
The room glowed softly under one lamp.
And there was Perth.
Leaning close to a glass vase, tongue peeking out slightly in concentration, carefully tracing a red bow with an acrylic marker. His brows were furrowed like this was a life or death operation.
Santa froze at the doorway.
Warmth filled his chest slowly. Then painfully.
His vision blurred.
He heard Perth mumble under his breath.
"If I mess this up, he will still like it… right?"
The crack in Santa’s chest widened.
He tried so hard to stay quiet. But a hiccup escaped him. Then another. Tears slipped down his cheeks before he could stop them.
Perth flinched at the sound.
He turned quickly.
And their eyes locked.
One pair glassy with tears.
The other wide with shock.
The room felt smaller suddenly. Like it was holding its breath with them.
𓍯 ִֶָ 🎀.
Perth built the flowers like they mattered more than anything else in the room.
Each block pressed into place with care that bordered on devotion. His fingers were steady, but his heart was not. Every click sounded too loud in the quiet dorm.
The pink lotus stood first. Soft. Delicate. Open.
Then the green flowers, bound together with a white ribbon that read "Just for You." Tulips leaned gently against cherry blossoms. A white lotus rested among them like quiet light.
It looked tender. Bright. Alive.
Like Santa.
Perth adjusted the stems again, even though they were already perfect.
Only the vase remained.
They did not have pink. So he bought clear glass and acrylic markers.
He would color it with his own hands.
He bent over it, drawing small red bows carefully, his tongue peeking out slightly in concentration. His brows were furrowed like this was something sacred.
He was so focused he did not hear the door open.
But he heard the hiccup.
He turned sharply.
Santa.
Standing there. Sketchbook in hand. Curls falling over tear soaked lashes. Tears sliding helplessly down flushed cheeks. His whole body trembling.
“P-Phi—”
Perth was already moving.
He reached him in seconds, pulling him close, arms wrapping tight like instinct.
“What happened? Why are you crying?” His voice cracked immediately.
Santa tried to speak, but his breath kept catching. His fingers gripped Perth’s shirt so tightly the fabric wrinkled under his hands.
“My love, breathe. Please.”
“Y-you made these for me?” Santa pointed weakly toward the flowers, his hand shaking.
Perth flushed softly. “Yeah. I did.”
Santa broke.
“I don’t know why I’m crying,” he sobbed. “Why are you so sweet? I love you so much. Please don’t ever leave me.”
Perth’s own vision blurred.
He cupped Santa’s face, wiping tears gently with his thumbs. His touch was slow. Careful. Like Santa was made of something breakable.
“I am not going anywhere,” he whispered.
He kissed his curls. His forehead. His wet cheeks. His nose.
When his lips reached Santa’s, the kiss was soft at first. A promise pressed between their lips.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, my beloved.”
Santa answered by deepening it.
His lips were warm and slightly trembling. He pressed closer, like he needed to dissolve into Perth completely. His fingers tangled into Perth’s hair, gripping tightly.
Perth’s arm tightened around his waist, lifting him effortlessly. Their bodies fit together perfectly, like they had practiced this for years.
When they broke apart, Santa’s breathing was uneven. His lips swollen. His eyes glassy and heavy.
Perth lowered his face to Santa’s neck, inhaling deeply. The scent of him made something inside Perth unravel.
“I really do have my own flower,” he murmured, his voice lower now.
Santa shivered.
Perth’s lips traced along his neck slowly, lingering. Not rushed. Not careless. Every touch deliberate. Every press of his mouth filled with quiet hunger and reverence.
He laid Santa gently onto the bed, pushing aside markers and ribbon without looking away from him.
“Will you be my Valentine?” he asked softly against his skin, his breath warm.
Santa’s hands slid around Perth’s neck, pulling him closer.
“Yes,” he breathed. “Always.”
The kiss that followed was deeper. Slower. Their mouths moving together with familiarity and need. Not frantic. Just consuming.
Perth’s hands moved carefully under Santa’s shirt, palms warm against bare skin. Not hurried. Exploring like he was memorizing him all over again. Like even after four years, he still needed to learn every inch.
Santa’s body trembled under him, breath catching in soft, broken sounds. His fingers gripped Perth’s shoulders, then his hair, holding on like he never wanted to let go.
“Phi…” His voice was barely there. Soft. Open.
Perth looked down at him.
Flushed cheeks. Wet lashes. Lips parted. Completely vulnerable and impossibly beautiful.
Perth leaned down and kissed him again, slower this time. Deeper in feeling than in heat. His hands cradled Santa’s waist, thumbs brushing over warm skin like he was worshipping something sacred.
Their foreheads pressed together as they finally paused, breathing shared between them.
Perth kissed him one last time, tender and grounding, before slowly pulling away.
Santa blinked up at him, dazed and breathless.
“Where are you going?” he whispered.
Perth did not answer.
He stood, adjusted his shirt, then carefully placed the flowers into the decorated vase. He tied the pink ribbon around the base.
Then he walked back and knelt on the carpet.
Santa sat up quickly, heart racing.
“For you, my beloved.”
Santa slid off the bed and knelt too. His hands were still shaking when he accepted the vase. He set it aside carefully and handed Perth the sketchbook.
“For you.”
Perth opened it.
Small drawings. Flowing lines. Hearts scattered like confessions.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”
He turned the page.
A purple flower garden.
“All I can say is, I was. Enchanted to meet you.”
Perth swallowed hard.
“Why is ‘enchanted to meet you’ in yellow?”
Santa cupped his cheeks, brushing them.
“Because you brightened my world when I met you.”
Perth closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.
He pressed a kiss into Santa’s palm.
“I love you,” he said, wrapping his arms around Santa’s waist and burying his face against him, holding him like he might float away.
Santa laughed softly, fingers sliding into his hair.
“I love you more, baby.”
And the room, messy with markers and ribbons and plastic petals, felt like the most sacred place in the world.
Because love had filled every corner of it.
𓍯 ִֶָ 🎀. What PerthSanta made for each other.
