Me and Thee: English translation.

Wake-up call #3

Peach was a creature of the night. Sure, he could drag himself out of bed to take morning shots or head to a shoot if he had to. Still, when it came to tasks that required focus, precision, and a creative touch — like editing photos, arranging compositions, or video editing — he much preferred working at night. 

 

So last night, after returning from the event, even though he was dead tired, he still sat down to edit the first draft of the photos he needed to submit. By the time he finally went to bed, it was well past 5 a.m. He'd figured his next gig wasn't until the evening, so staying up until sunrise wasn't going to be an issue. He hadn't counted on trouble calling him at ten in the morning.

 

Peach was so groggy that part of him wanted just to ignore the call altogether. But as soon as he managed to pull himself together enough to check the name flashing on his phone, he was wide awake. Because those smouldering, smoky-grey eyes had been haunting him all night. The thought of them had dragged him out of bed last night, compelling him to dig through every piece of work he'd ever come across. It had only taken him ten minutes to find what he was looking for.

 

Theerakit Kian Arseny, a half-Thai, half-Russian businessman, was his temporary boss for the Arseny brand's fall fragrance collection, which Peach was currently handling. So, when he saw the name Theerakit pop up on his screen at ten in the morning, it all clicked. He was certain he didn't know anyone else by that name. Combined with the memory of his phone being confiscated briefly the night before, it wasn't hard to piece together who was calling. The real question was—why? Why was he calling him? Why not call Aran instead?

 

Of course, those questions stayed firmly in his head. All he could do was drag himself out of bed, wash his face, take a quick shower, and get dressed. He hesitated for a good while when it came to picking out his outfit, though.

 

His life was usually quiet and uneventful, so it might even seem boring. He wasn't into nightlife and preferred staying home. On rare occasions, he'd go on a solo backpacking trip, camera in hand, choosing the silence of a lone journey over travelling with a big group.

 

This simplicity extended to his wardrobe. Most of his clothes were plain and functional: basic T-shirts, shorts, and a few solid-colored button-ups for work. He owned one tailored suit, just in case he had to attend a formal event. But now, faced with the need to pick an outfit for something more significant, he was starting to see the downside of keeping his wardrobe so minimal.

 

It wasn't like dressing for a date—far from it. But the person he was about to meet wasn't just anyone. It was a half-Russian mafia boss. Would his usual laid-back attire come off as disrespectful? But showing up in a full suit in broad daylight would look ridiculous.

 

In the end, it took him nearly an hour to settle on slim-fit black trousers and an oversized grey button-up shirt. By then, the idea of brewing a strong cup of black coffee before heading out had gone right out the window. Adjusting the strap of his small crossbody bag, he hurried downstairs, unwilling to risk keeping the other man waiting.

 

The moment Peach stepped out of his condo, a sleek black luxury car pulled up to the curb beside him. The rear window rolled down just enough for him to catch a glimpse of those smouldering, smoky-grey eyes. He immediately lowered his head in a polite nod and quickened his pace toward the car. Reaching for the door handle, he hesitated for a brief moment.

 

He wasn't a guest. He definitely wasn't a date—not even close. Maybe the closest thing he could pass for was an underling. And besides, sitting further from the boss increased his chances of escape, should things go sideways. After a split-second deliberation, he opened the front passenger door and slipped inside. But before he could even close it, the man in the backseat, exuding an air of quiet authority, spoke up in a low, commanding voice.

 

"Sit at the back."

 

Peach's hand froze on the door handle. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of being stubborn and refusing, but the mental image of being killed before he'd had a chance to find coffee stopped him in his tracks. After weighing up all the options, he climbed back out, trudged around the car, and slid into the backseat, feeling completely out of options.

 

Peach sat stiff as a board. His discomfort was written all over his furrowed brows. His mind was racing, trying to figure out why he'd been summoned. Had he done something to piss this guy off? He replayed last night's events in his head, but couldn't think of anything out of line.

 

Unless... maybe Mr Big Mafia Boss was holding a grudge over something he'd said or laughed at? But if this was about anger and retaliation, wouldn't it make more sense to deal with him under the cover of night instead of calling him out in broad daylight?

 

"Why so tense? Not half as bold as you were last night," Thee remarked, his sharp gaze locked on him. Peach snapped out of his spiralling thoughts, giving an empty smile and trying to smooth things over. Not that he thought it would help much.

 

"I might've had a bit too much to drink last night. I'm sorry if I did or said anything out of line."

 

"Didn't say it was out of line," Thee replied evenly, his eyes still boring into him, his voice carrying an edge of irritation. "Why aren't you talking like you did last night?"

 

"Well, last night I didn't know who you were," Peach blurted out, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Socialising wasn't exactly his strong suit, and this whole dance of watching his words and tiptoeing around was starting to drive him up the wall. Thee paused, the sharpness in his gaze softening slightly, almost as if he was amused. The more Peach squirmed, the more entertained he seemed to get.

 

"Are you scared now that you know?"

 

"I was scared last night, too," Peach deadpanned, turning to give him a flat look. "Who wouldn't be scared of someone flanked by bodyguards with guns strapped to their waists?" Thee's lips twitched, his tone firm but undeniably smug. 

 

"Then it's no different." Peach rolled his eyes so hard he almost gave himself whiplash. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation. Dealing with someone whose sense of normal was light-years removed from the average person's was mentally exhausting.

 

General big-shot types were one thing, but a full-blown arms-dealing mafia boss? Seriously, who wouldn't be more terrified? Peach mumbled something under his breath, grumbles too soft to make out, but didn't dare say it aloud. In the end, he let out a long sigh, deciding it was probably smarter to focus on the strange situation in front of him. Subtlety wasn't exactly his strong suit, so he cut straight to the point.

 

"So, uh... why exactly did you call me out here, Mr Arseny?" he asked, his brows knitting together in suspicion. "It's not because you're mad about last night, is it?"

 

They watched him with barely concealed amusement, like he was a cat toying with a skittish mouse. Even though his sharp, brooding face stayed impassive, his eyes sparkled with mischief. There was an air of uncharacteristic cheerfulness radiating off him— enough that the bodyguard doubling as a driver in the front seat couldn't help sneaking glances in the rearview mirror. It was downright shocking. Not even Thee's favourite flings managed to get this kind of reaction from him.

 

"How's your arm?"

 

Peach blinked, caught off guard. He glanced down at his arm before remembering. Right, last night, he'd scraped it bad enough that they'd detoured to a hospital for a tetanus shot. He never thought Thee would remember, though.

 

"It's fine, just a little scrape," he replied quickly. "I already got the shot, so I'm all good." He hesitated for a moment, lips pressing together as his confusion grew. 

 

"Wait... did you call me out just to ask about that?"

 

"I called you out to ask about that model guy," the young mafia said casually, leaning back like this was the most natural thing in the world. "You told me to start by flirting, right? Teach me how."

 

"Me?" Peach jabbed a finger at his chest, eyes going wide as he'd just been told the world was flat. Any lingering fear vanished instantly, swept away by the sheer absurdity of what he'd just heard.

 

"Uh, just so you know, Mr Arseny, I got dumped two months ago because I was, quote, 'too boring to be a boyfriend.' Apparently, I'm better suited as a therapist than someone's significant other. And you think I'm qualified to teach you how to flirt? Are you sure about that? Really?"

 

Thee's lips curled into a faint smile. Not only did he seem completely unbothered by Peach's wide-eyed glare, but he actually looked more amused than ever. When he spoke, his tone was brimming with confidence. "Well, aren't you supposed to be a good advisor? You're close to that model guy, too. Seems like a solid choice to me."

 

This time, it was Peach who opened his mouth to argue but promptly snapped it shut, at a loss for words. As much as he wanted to deny it, Thee wasn't exactly wrong. And to make matters worse, his words hit a little too close to home. Still, no matter how logical it sounded, Peach couldn't imagine how he was supposed to help the mafia boss with... this.

 

With a deep sigh, he resigned himself to the fact that things were quickly spiralling out of control. But then again, part of him was genuinely worried about his junior, his friend. Aran didn't have the best judgment when it came to people. Most of the folks circling Thee were just as far removed from common sense as the man himself. As someone who still clung to a shred of rationality, Peach felt obligated to intervene.

 

"May I ask what you actually think of Aran?" Peach finally ventured.

 

Thee didn't answer right away. For a moment, he averted his gaze, as though considering something deeply. But when he looked back, his expression was cool and composed, almost indifferent.

 

"Close to my type. Wouldn't mind having sexual intercourse with him."

"And... what about anything else?" Peach pressed.

 

"Interesting. Pretty face."

"...

 

Peach slapped a hand to his forehead, the beginnings of a headache pulsing behind his temples. Sure, he knew Thee was blunt to the point of being oblivious to social norms, but this level of brutal honesty was almost too much.

 

"But didn't Aran make it pretty clear he's not interested in a one-night stand with you?" Peach said quickly, his tone firm as he tried desperately to inject some basic common sense into Thee. 

 

"I really think we should respect his boundaries." He leaned forward, voice steady despite the nerves creeping in. "Look, I know someone like you probably has plenty of ways to get Aran to fall in line. But forcing someone emotionally—or any other way—won't lead to anything good in the long run. Honestly, I don't think it's worth it."

 

Thee went quiet, his gaze dropping like he was mulling something over. Peach, worried about his junior's safety, quickly jumped back in.

"You said Aran was more interesting than the usual models you meet, right?" Peach prodded, feeling like he was trying to tame a lion with nothing but a toothpick.

 

"Why don't you start with something normal? You know, without expecting sex, the whole focus?" he suggested, treading carefully.

 

"But it is my focus," Thee said, matter-of-fact. Peach barely resisted the urge to smack his forehead against the car window....

 

His brain felt fried, and he hadn't even done anything yet. He found himself daydreaming about an iced Americano to take the edge off. What the hell was this mess? The urge to scream in frustration bubbled up, but he shoved it down. No way he'd risk annoying the mafia boss sitting right next to him.

 

"Make it just one part of the whole picture, okay?" Peach tried again, forcing a calm tone. "If you think Aran's interesting, why not try getting to know him? Talk to him. Who knows? It could actually turn into something real. Maybe even love. And when that happens, sex will just... happen naturally, you know? It won't have to be the goal."

 

He rattled off the explanation in one breath, barely pausing. To his surprise, Thee didn't interrupt or argue. He just listened; his expression serious.

 

"That's an interesting idea. You're close to Aran, aren't you? Help me with this."

Peach almost rolled his eyes, but managed to hold back. Of course, Thee would treat courting someone like it was a business deal. Forget romance.

 

"We're not that close," Peach replied with a sigh. "We've worked together a lot, sure, but it's not like we're best friends or anything. I doubt I'll be much help."

 

"I'm not expecting that much from you," Thee said, brushing it off like it didn't matter. Before Peach could figure out what to make of that, Thee turned to the driver and waved for him to start the car—no further explanation. No clarifications. Peach watched as the car glided away smoothly, his wide, panicked eyes darting around. He'd thought Thee would just call him in for a quick chat and then kick him out of the car. Isn't that how it always goes in the movies?

 

"Mr Arseny!"

 

"Call me Thee. Stop with the "Arseny' nonsense, it's annoying," Thee cut him off, his tone laced with irritation. Yet the way he glanced at Peach from the corner of his eye seemed to say he was waiting for the next question.

 

"Uh, okay, Mr Thee. So... where exactly are we going?" The corner of Thee's mouth tugged into a subtle smirk, his eyes glinting with faint amusement.

 

"Lunch. Got anything special in mind?"

 

Peach was still trying to wrap his head around the situation, but the mention of food managed to snap him out of it a bit. His brain immediately went to the one thing he'd been craving since answering the phone that morning.

 

"Can we grab coffee first? An iced Americano, extra shot, please," he blurted out, almost desperately. He needed something to ground himself, and caffeine was definitely at the top of the list.