Me and Thee: English translation.

Wake up call #15

Peach lay sprawled across the bed, arms and legs stretched out, staring blankly at the ceiling. An indescribable emptiness weighed on his chest, leaving him feeling detached and drained. The emotional storm from yesterday had settled, but a lingering heaviness still clung stubbornly to his chest, making even the thought of moving feel exhausting.

The All Seasons' One Word project contract had only been a verbal agreement with Nuch, but he'd cleared his entire work schedule for three months just for it. Now, with the project cancelled, he was left with absolutely nothing on his plate — an unfamiliar and unsettling reality. He could try rescheduling old gigs or accepting new assignments, but the mere thought of working drained him further. With a long, resigned sigh, his frustration dissolved into a numbing laziness.

Truth be told, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been this genuinely free. As a kid, he'd worked tirelessly to support himself and his younger sibling. After putting his brother through school, working nonstop had just become second nature. Taking a break wasn't such a bad idea after all. His eyes drifted toward the calendar, its empty slots staring back at him mockingly. He felt lost, like a car forced to a sudden stop after speeding down the highway for too long.

Pressing his lips together, Peach's gaze shifted toward the bookshelf against the wall. Among the work-related reference books sat a stack of travel guides that Plub had left behind ages ago. He could go on a trip.

The idea sparked a faint sense of relief. He grabbed his phone and started looking up potential destinations, favouring a place that was relaxing and easygoing. He wasn't in the mood for anything adventurous or demanding —just a laid-back getaway to clear his head. The beach seemed perfect.

Once Peach made up his mind, he set about packing. He dug out some comfy clothes he rarely wore and started mentally mapping out his trip. Driving along the coast with a camera sounded like just the escape he needed. He'd only just finished tossing his essentials into his bag, planning to hit the road the next day, when the doorbell suddenly buzzed. Pausing, he peeked out from the bedroom, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

He'd lived in this condo for years and could count on one hand how many times he'd interacted with his neighbours - and even then, it was just polite nods in passing. Who on earth would be ringing his doorbell now? Before he could make sense of it, the buzzer went off again, more insistent this time. The shrill sound made him jump. Worried about disturbing the neighbours, he hurried over, practically jogging, and yanked the door open - forgetting entirely to check the peephole. The last person he expected to see was Thee, towering in the doorway with his arms crossed, his expression dark and unforgiving.

"Mr Thee?" Peach managed to gasp, mouth slightly agape.

Before he could ask what the man was doing there, the stern-faced mafia boss shoved the door open with ease, forcing his broad frame inside. Still stunned, Peach could only stare, frozen for a moment. But as soon as he saw Thee casually stepping further into the apartment like he owned the place, indignation flared up.

"Mr Thee, change your shoes first," Peach blurted out, his voice edged with urgency. He was way too lazy to mop the floor again if dirt got tracked in. Without thinking, he grabbed Thee's arm, holding it firmly, his mind entirely focused on finding a pair of slippers.

Thee glanced down at the hand clutching his arm, something unreadable flashing in his eyes, though his expression remained neutral. He stopped in his tracks, quietly pleased, though his voice stayed cool as ever when he asked, "Why should I?"

"Your shoes are filthy. I'm not cleaning the floor again."

"T'll call housekeeping," Thee deadpanned, already reaching for his phone like he meant it. Peach then snatched up a pair of his sister's old slippers.

"Just change your shoes, that's all. Here, I've got my sister's slippers..." Peach trailed off, suddenly noticing the slippers were bright pink with a giant, fluffy bunny tail on the back. His breath hitched as he glanced at Thee again, heart skipping a beat at the thought of making him wear those. Without missing a beat, he chucked the slippers across the room. That was a close call. Like hell he'd let a ruthless mafia boss wear those slippers. He'd be signing his own death warrant for sure.

....Just take your shoes off, please. It's way easier than calling housekeeping." Theerakit hesitated, but when he caught Peach's pleading expression, he sighed and stepped back, slipping off his shoes. Then, with the air of someone owning the place, he strode into the living room and sprawled out on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table like it was his personal lounge. Arguing was pointless, so Peach hurried to fetch a glass of water, practically on autopilot, and set it down in front of his very important guest.

"Why didn't you call me?" The abrupt question made him freeze. He was getting used to Thee's random interrogations, though, so he didn't let it show. Quietly, he set the glass down before sinking into the chair opposite.

"I didn't have any reason to," he replied with a faint smile, his gaze dropping. "Didn't know what I'd say."

The lingering fear from that day still clung to him. Thee studied him in silence, his expression unreadable, colder and commanding than usual, almost... subdued. Even his voice was calmer when he spoke again. "Why did you quit the project?"

"I didn't quit. The team told me I wasn't needed anymore.  What else was I supposed to do?" Peach said, shrugging, though the tightness in his chest flared up again. "If you're worried about Aran, don't be. You guys seem to be working things out just fine. You can keep going without me... I'll even send you his number."

"I'm not worried about Aran. I'm worried about you."

Peach froze, snapping his head up to stare at the young man in front of him in disbelief. The man's face remained unreadable, calm as ever, as though he hadn't just dropped a bombshell. His tone was firm, steady—there was no softness in his gaze, but its intensity carried something far stronger: unwavering determination.

"You're not the type to give up easily. That project was yours. Why didn't you fight for it?"

"I couldn't... I couldn't do anything." Peach's voice wavered, cracking under the weight of emotions he'd bottled up for so long, rage with no outlet, resentment with no resolution. It all crushed his chest, making it hard to breathe. "If I fought back, Plub would've been the one to suffer. They've got connections... power. I couldn't let my sister get hurt because of me. But I'm so angry, so furious, I can't even think straight, but I was powerless."

"Then why didn't you call me?"

The same question—again. Peach went still, realising he might have misunderstood its meaning all along. He'd assumed the mafia was just mad about not being kept in the loop about Aran, like usual. But now... it seemed like the meaning ran deeper. Was it possible... to believe someone might actually want to protect him? 

"Could I... really have called you?" Peach asked quietly, voice distant. Ever since Mr Thee had given him that number, he'd never once considered using it aside from answering when he called him, demanding updates or issuing orders. He was mafia, after all. How could Peach have thought he had the right to ask for anything?

"There are hundreds of thousands of people who'd kill to have my number," Theerakit said, his tone laced with arrogance. "But you? You've had it this whole time... which means I've permitted you to call me."

Peach blinked, mind reeling. His chest felt tight, emotions tangled into an impossible knot.

"If I'd called... would you have helped me?"

"Why wouldn't I help you? You're mine. No one gets to mess with what's mine."

Peach froze. Thee's gaze stayed steady, unwavering, as if daring him to question his sincerity. His voice held a gravity that felt almost tangible, rooting Peach to the spot. There was no deception there—just resolute conviction, as solid as a lone tree standing firm in the heart of a raging ocean.

"I... Can I really call you? If I do, will you actually help me? Won't I have to fight alone anymore? I won't have to be scared of that bastard's connections... I won't have to take it?'

Thee crossed his arms, shoulders squaring with an air of superiority, as if asking, What part of that didn't you get? 

"You're mine. Isn't that connection enough?" His lips curled into a confident smirk, oozing authority as though he could command the world with just a flick of his fingers. "Even if the sky comes crashing down, I'll help you carry it or have my men do it instead."

His words, so quintessentially mafia-like, hit harder than any vow of protection. The emotions Peach had fought so desperately to suppress swelled, spilling over like foam from an overfilled beer glass. He couldn't speak, couldn't tear his gaze away from Thee's resolute eyes. His chest heaved, and before he knew it, hot tears spilt down his cheeks. Thee stiffened, startled, instinctively straightening up. His thick brows knitted in frustration; he clearly wasn't used to handling something like this. But in the end, he simply stayed where he was, letting Peach cry until every shred of anguish drained away with his tears.

Whether it was because of his blurred vision or something more, Peach thought he saw a softness in those familiar smoky-grey eyes—a tenderness rarely revealed, hidden behind the usual harshness. Whatever it was, for the first time in forever, Peach felt like he was standing on solid ground.

After crying his heart out in front of someone for the first time in his life, a full fifteen-minute breakdown, Peach finally managed to pull himself together. He muttered an apology for the emotional outburst and excused himself to the bathroom to clean up.

Thee hadn't hugged him or tried to comfort him, nor had he told him to stop crying. He'd simply sat there, watching intently, waiting patiently, giving Peach the space to let out every pent-up emotion he'd been carrying. Oddly enough, that silent support made him feel... better.

Peach dabbed his tear-streaked face with a towel and stepped back into the living room, only to find the couch empty. Thee was nowhere in sight. He frowned, glancing around. His condo wasn't exactly spacious; there weren't many places for a mafia boss to wander off to. Just as he reached the bedroom, he spotted Thee standing in the doorway, his broad frame tense, his expression stormy and dark. Gone was the calm, steady presence from before—now he radiated pure fury, like a brewing tempest. What the hell now?

"What's going on?" Peach asked cautiously, choosing his words carefully despite the confusion swirling in his mind. Theerakit turned sharply, his eyes blazing as he jabbed a trembling finger toward something inside the room.

"You tell me— what the hell is this? Were you planning to run? Let me make one thing very clear: with the Arseny family's influence, you could fly to the other side of the damn planet, and I'd still find you."

Peach blinked, baffled, before leaning in to see what had triggered such outrage. His gaze landed on his half-open suitcase and the pile of clothes scattered across the bed. Realisation hit instantly.

"I wasn't planning to run."

"You didn't call me, but running was your first thought? Remember this: the only way you'll ever get away from me... is through death!"

The young photographer turned back, making a monumental effort not to roll his eyes. He wracked his brain, trying to remember if there was some hit soap opera on right now that might've planted yet another weird idea in Thee's head. He made a mental note to tell Mok to pick better shows for Mr Thee-ones with less over-the-top plots.

"Mr Thee, calm down. Pull yourself together, okay?" Arseny reached out and clasped Thee's broad hand, giving it a firm squeeze to make sure he had his attention. "I'm not running away. I'm not packing my stuff, moving out, or anything like that. I'm just going on a trip."

The mafia boss glanced down at the slender hand holding his own. Instantly, the air around him seemed to lighten, the suffocating tension dissipating enough for him to finally breathe properly again. He let out a sigh, about to pull his hand back, but Thee held on tight. His fingertips lazily traced circles on the back of Peach's hand like he was enjoying himself way too much.

"Where are you going? I'll buy you a plane to help make your trip a lot easier. Go and come back quickly."

Mr Thee, pull yourself together!