Me and Thee: English translation.

Wake-up call #1

 

The flashlights flickered in rhythm with the shutter’s click as the model in front of the backdrop seamlessly shifted poses. He was a petite man with delicate, almost feminine features—a famous unisex model exuding charm as he posed with an expensive perfume, perfectly embodying the scent's image as a unisex fragrance.

 

"Give me just a bit more confident look... That's it, perfect," a rich, soothing voice instructed, eyes never straying from the camera. A few more clicks later, the lean figure finally lowered the camera and announced a short break to reset for the next scene.

 

"Hey, Peach, how do I look? Am I killing it or what?" The model practically skipped over, half-running, half-jumping with excitement. His over-the-top enthusiasm made Peach chuckle as he casually turned the camera screen for him to see.

 

"You won't trust my skills or what, Ran?" Peach teased as he unclipped the camera from around his neck. He moved over to a nearby chair, plopping down and leaving his younger colleague to scroll through the shots. Meanwhile, he went back to reviewing the photos on his own device. Aran smiled ear to ear until his cheeks puffed up, sparkling eyes glued to his images on the screen. 

 

"Who wouldn't trust you, Peach? I already knew the shots would be amazing-that's why I couldn't wait to see them!"

 

And Aran wasn't exaggerating. Peach-or Peachayarat Janekit was one of the country's top photographers. His skills were nothing short of extraordinary. Even models who lacked standout features or fame could turn heads after being captured through his lens. Many actors and celebrities owed their breakout success to just a handful of Peach's stunning photographs.

 

Aside from his exceptional talent, Peach also had a sterling reputation in the industry. Known for his professionalism, impeccable manners, and composed demeanour, he had never been involved in any scandals or bad press. Yet, despite his outstanding career, his love life was a complete disaster —almost laughably tragic. After being dumped by his third girlfriend for the same reason as the two before her, Peach had resigned himself to the idea that love might not be in the cards for him.

 

"Peach, Peach! Are you coming to the wrap-up party tonight?" Aran asked, finally satisfied with the photos and turning back to him. His wide, innocent eyes held a faintly pleading look that made Peach smile in amusement.

 

The gorgeous model had been close to Peach since his early days in the industry. Some might even say Peach was the one who helped him rise to fame. Still, their bond had always remained surface-level—a professional relationship at best. 

 

To Peach, Aran was nothing more than a younger brother to be fond of. The only problem? Aran's situationship was infuriatingly possessive and overly dramatic, enough to make anyone want to roll their eyes.

 

"Have you told Tawan yet? If you two start fighting at the party, I'll kick both of you out," Peach warned, crossing his arms. 

 

The petite model immediately looked flustered, fidgeting awkwardly before sheepishly admitting he hadn't mentioned it yet. Without another word, he dashed off to his dressing room, probably to call and report to his significant other and get ready for the next shoot.

 

Peach let out a long sigh before getting up to inspect the next set. Pulling out his phone, he checked his messages and skimmed through his schedule. After a moment, he opened the bluebird app to catch up on trending news while waiting.

His scrolling paused when a particular headline caught his eye.

 

It was the latest buzz about a young, half-Thai, half-Russian entrepreneur making waves as a rising star in the perfume and jewellery industry. Not only was he famous for his sharp business acumen, but his striking looks and on-again, off-again romances with multiple actresses had propelled Theerakit Kian Arseny to the peak of celebrity fame.

 

Peach glanced at the perfume bottle sitting neatly in the set, then shifted his focus back to his phone, shaking his head slightly with a faint smirk. His boss really was a smart cookie. The thought briefly crossed his mind before he returned to his work. While technically his "boss," the title applied only in the sense that the man was the CEO of the company Peach was shooting ads for. The likelihood of their paths actually crossing was next to zero. What he needed to focus on was hoping that his young model colleague wouldn't drag him into some fresh drama tonight.

 

With long strides, Peach headed toward his small car, deciding to swing by his condo first before joining the others at a trendy restaurant-slash-pub in the heart of the city. Once at the condo, he parked in the underground lot, locked up his car, and gathered his things before heading for the building entrance. After tapping his key card at the security panel, he stepped into the elevator and pressed his floor.

 

The mirror reflected a sharp-featured young man with a lean figure, standing just over 175 centimetres, maybe closer to 180. His build was slender but fit, with the toned look of someone who took care of themselves. Not strikingly handsome, not stunningly beautiful, but the kind of face you could never get tired of looking at.

 

The elevator dinged softly as it reached his floor. Peach made his way to his unit, tapped his key card on the smart lock, and pushed the door open as it clicked. His condo was a standard studio—not big, but just right for one person. The layout split the space into a living area and a bedroom, with a small kitchen on one side and a bathroom on the other. At the far end was a tiny balcony, just big enough for a washing machine, a drying rack, and a few small plants to add a touch of green.

 

Peach's room was simple and understated, just like him. Peach tidied up his things. He prided himself on being fairly organised, even if his version of organised often made sense to no one but himself. After putting everything in its place, watering his plants, and grabbing a little something from the fridge to keep his stomach from growling later, he headed to his wardrobe to pick out an outfit for the evening.

 

Sliding open the wardrobe, he was met with his usual collection of plain, solid-colored tops in dark tones and a row of well-fitted jeans. He decided to stick with the same pair of jeans he had on and swapped his casual T-shirt for a short-sleeved button-up. He left the top two—or maybe three buttons undone, just enough to show a hint of his fair chest. A quick spritz of cologne later, he was ready to head out.

 

Truthfully, Peach wasn't all that surprised when his last girlfriend dumped him two months ago. His life was simple— probably too simple, just like his personality. He wasn't one for grand gestures or over-the-top displays. What he offered was steadiness, someone who appreciated the little things and took care of life's day-to-day together.

 

Most people described him as the perfect confidant, someone who gave great advice, made them feel at ease, and radiated warmth. Reliable, dependable... but never someone to fall in love with.

 

The thought made him chuckle to himself, recalling the exact words his ex had used to break things off. The line had left him fighting the urge to fire back with a snarky comment: "Oh, so what, you want someone unreliable? Should I sponge off you like a freeloader instead to make me 'the one?!'" Of course, he didn't say any of that at the time. When it came down to it, all he managed was a sad little smile as he watched her walk away, hand in hand with her new boyfriend.

 

Ah, the tragic tale of Peachayarat's love life, He thought, brushing off the lingering frustration and heading downstairs to his car again. Two months post-breakup, Peach had more or less returned to normal. Sure, he wasn't exactly eager to run into his ex, but at least he could think about it without flinching.

 

Sliding back into the congested city traffic, he was reminded why Friday nights were pure chaos. It was as if the entire city had collectively decided to let loose after a gruelling week. The roads were packed, with barely an inch to spare between cars.

 

After nearly an hour of stop-and-go agony, Peach finally reached the restaurant and made his way inside to join his friends at their table, ready to let the night unfold.

 

The venue was a restaurant-slash-pub with live music, not the kind of crowded, chaotic place you'd call a full-on club. It was just busy enough to feel lively, which made finding his friends' table pretty easy. Tonight's gathering was a wrap-up party for the Fall collection shoot, which featured a whole set of perfumes and matching accessories—nearly ten looks in total. The shoot had taken almost an entire week, combining both video commercials and still photography. Sure, there was still a mountain of editing and post-production work ahead, but celebrating what they'd accomplished so far was a great morale boost.

 

Peach was ushered into a seat near the head of the table. He offered a polite, faint smile and sat down without a fuss. Across from him was Aran, the campaign's star model, enthusiastically waving at him like a puppy excited to see its owner. Unfortunately, Aran didn't seem to notice the death glare Peach was getting from Tawan, the model's boyfriend, sitting right beside him.

 

"If you stare any harder, Tawan, I'm going to end up pregnant," Peach teased with a grin as he reached for the cocktail ingredients to mix his own drink. No way was he trusting his crew to handle that— they were always scheming to spike his drinks for fun.

Tawan responded with an exaggerated glare, his sharp eyes narrowing in mock warning. One arm rested on the back of Aran's chair, making it clear who the model belonged to. Peach chuckled to himself, keeping his thoughts to himself this time.

 

It wasn't surprising, though—Aran was stunning. His beauty had a softness, with big, doe-like eyes that sparkled with warmth and charm. Yet, the sharp definition of his jawline gave him an undeniable masculinity. It was an irresistible mix that drew attention from everyone in the room, women and men alike.

 

Peach glanced at Tawan, a masculine man, in the most traditional sense. His sharp, angular features, lean muscles, and imposing 183 cm height practically screamed alpha male. There was a slight intensity in his demeanour and fiery temper. Peach had to call out more than once to keep him in check. He really is a protagonist, no doubt about it.

 

Peach, who had recently gotten hooked on a new series, shook his head slightly. If he were to size it up, those two would be born to stand in the spotlight, leading roles through and through. Meanwhile, he was more like the supporting cast: the best friend who gives sage advice, shines a light on the hero's path, or sometimes stirs the pot just for fun. He didn't hate playing that kind of role, but now and then, it got a little lonely.

 

After filling up on food and satisfying his hunger, he lingered over a drink for a bit. But soon enough, he decided to call it a night. He had driven himself here, and there was still work waiting for him later. Getting drunk wasn't an option.

 

Standing up, Peach headed to the restroom, planning to splash some water on his face and freshen up before leaving. But the moment he opened the door, he was met with an unexpected sight: the petite model, Aran, cornered by three men dressed in black. What the hell is this mess now? Peach cursed inwardly but quickly stepped inside, his long legs closing the distance in seconds. In the back of his mind, he swore at that scowling boyfriend of Aran's, so quick to glare at him, but apparently nowhere to be found in a situation like this. Outwardly, though, Peach kept his composure, forcing a faint smile as he tried to defuse the tension in the room.

 

"Hey, Ran, why have you been gone so long?" he called out casually, even though he had no idea when Aran had left the table. Smoothly, he reached for the younger man's arm and manoeuvred him behind himself as naturally as he could manage. 

 

"You drunk? Are you okay? You didn't bother these gentlemen, did you?" Peach rambled on, pretending not to notice Aran about to open his mouth. Before the younger man could say a word, Peach tightened his grip on his arm—a silent warning. He knew all too well how sharp Aran's tongue could be. If he let him talk, this situation would spiral out of control for sure.

 

Turning to the men surrounding them, Peach offered a polite smile, hoping to ease the tension. That was when he finally noticed the figure leaning casually against the sink in the back of the room. The man looked to be mixed-race, with sleek black hair swept back, revealing a broad forehead. Under the neon lights, his hair seemed to shimmer with hints of brown. His eyes, sharp and commanding, were the colour of storm clouds, and his chiselled jawline added to his intimidating presence. He wore a long-sleeved shirt with the top three buttons undone, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing firm muscles and a hint of tattoos.

 

Flanked by two burly men in black suits, he exuded an air of authority that made the cramped restroom feel even smaller. The scene screamed danger—so much that Peach felt an overwhelming urge to bolt right then and there.

 

"Looks like my friend here caused you some trouble. I'm terribly sorry about that. Please don't take it to heart," Peach said, tightening his grip on the other guy's arm and bowing his head politely. Peach wasn't the type to escalate situations, especially when the other side radiated that kind of menace. If a quick apology could smooth things over or give him a chance to escape, he'd gladly take it.

 

"Well then, if you'll excuse us," he added with a forced smile, spinning on his heel and making a beeline out of the bathroom, not waiting for permission. He pulled the smaller model along with him, not letting go until they were safely out of range, so much for wanting to freshen up before driving home. That little scare had already sobered him up more effectively than a splash of cold water ever could. Once they reached a quiet spot, Peach finally turned to face the younger man, questions brimming over.

 

"What the hell happened back there, Run? Who were those guys?"

 

"I have no idea! I didn't do anything!" Aran huffed indignantly, his cheeks flushed a deep red—partly from anger and partly from the alcohol coursing through his veins. "That mafia-looking creep tried to grope me! So, I told him off. Then he called his lackeys in to scare me. What a jerk!"

 

Peach resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. Sure, he knew this kid was good-looking enough to draw in the kind of lowlifes who thought with their egos and hormones. But Aran's idea of conflict resolution clearly needed some work.

Barely bigger than a bean, alone in a room full of dangerous-looking men, and still mouthing off? It was a miracle he hadn't ended up dead or worse. Did this kid not have even a shred of survival instinct?

 

He was just about to open his mouth and say something to defuse the situation when suddenly, he was yanked away. A strong hand gripped his shoulder hard enough to hurt before shoving him aside without an ounce of mercy. Luckily, he managed to keep his balance, but not before the railing he grabbed for support scraped his palm, leaving a stinging cut. His arm throbbed from where it had collided with the edge.

 

Peach turned around, his heart sinking with dread as he feared the dangerous man from earlier had followed them. But to his surprise, the person glaring daggers at him, looking ready to tear him apart, was none other than the stern-faced celebrity. Tawan stood there, holding the petite model tightly against his chest. His rough, biting tone didn't match the protective gesture.

 

"What the hell is going on here?" Tawan barked, his voice like a whip. His grip on Aran tightened as if to keep him from slipping away. "Gone for ages, turns out you were sneaking around with this damn photographer, huh?"

 

"Tawan, listen to me!" Aran squirmed in the iron hold, trying in vain to free himself. 

 

"It's not what you think! Peach helped me out, that's all!" Aran's protest only seemed to fan the flames. Tawan's frustration grew as he snapped back, then, without another word, hauled the smaller man off with him, one arm securely wrapped around him like a claim. Before they disappeared, Tawan shot Peach a look so sharp it felt like a dagger to the gut—a clear warning to stay away.

 

Peach stood frozen, trying to process the whirlwind of chaos that had just erupted. His thoughts lagged behind the storm of emotions that had just raged through the room. A part of him wanted to yell out What the hell just happened?! But in the end, all he did was let out a long sigh, rubbing his uninjured hand through his hair in frustration before trudging back toward his car.

 

On the way, he started wondering if he should take on fewer jobs involving Aran. He didn't want to be the cause of any more misunderstandings or tension between the two. And besides, he wanted to make it crystal clear to Tawan that he had no interest in getting involved in their drama. The problem was that Aran had recently become Arseny's brand ambassador. With a full-contract obligation for the entire fall collection, avoiding the pair would be next to impossible.

 

Peach sighed again, resigned to whatever settled in his chest. He hadn't done anything wrong, yet trouble just kept finding him. At this point, all he could do was shrug it off and focus on the job. Everything else? Not his problem anymore.

 

He walked over and stopped by the car. Just as he was about to head back, a sharp sting in his arm reminded him of the cut. Changing his mind, he rummaged around in the trunk for a bottle of water, thinking it'd be a good idea to rinse the wound. He figured he might need to stop somewhere for a tetanus shot, too. It was too dark to see what had nicked him, and if it had been rusty metal, that could be a real problem.

 

Peach grabbed the water bottle and awkwardly tried to twist the cap off with his uninjured hand. His clumsy fumbling made him think back to the man he'd run into earlier in the restroom— the one with the dangerous vibe. He had to admit, the guy was ridiculously good-looking, undeniably so. But the air of danger that surrounded him was hard to ignore. Still, what stuck with Peach the most wasn't the man's looks, but his smoky grey eyes.

 

They were stunning, almost hypnotic, the kind of eyes that made you stop in your tracks. He even caught himself wishing he'd had a camera to capture them. There was something eerily familiar about them, too, like he'd seen them somewhere before. Their beauty, almost like swirling smoke caught in motion, was rare enough to ignite the photographer's spark.

 

"Need a hand with that?"

 

The deep voice startled Peach. He looked up and flinched slightly as his gaze locked with those same smoky grey eyes he'd just been thinking about. Great. It looked like that pesky freshman was dragging a whole new set of problems straight to him.