Chapter 12 - Here He Learned To Breathe
The café lights glowed warm against the rainy Bangkok dawn, soft amber spilling across polished wood and familiar walls. The scent of espresso and fresh bread filled the air again, wrapping itself around every quiet corner like comfort trying to return home.
LUNARIA was breathing again.
Still...
Santa's chest tightened every time the bell above the door chimed.
Fear lingered strangely after loss, like his body no longer trusted peace to stay.
Santa blinked. "Only four?"
Mark snorted softly. "Five, actually."
That earned the faintest smile.
Behind them, music played low through the café speakers, soft piano and rain sounds blending together. Outside, people hurried beneath umbrellas while traffic crawled through wet streets.
Inside, things felt slower.
The first customer arrived at 8:12 a.m.
Santa noticed because he'd been watching the clock too closely all morning.
The customer who entered was an older woman with silver hair tucked neatly beneath a scarf. She paused at the doorway, eyes softening immediately when she saw Santa.
Santa bowed his head politely.
"Yes."
Her expression turned emotional almost instantly. "We heard about your son."
Santa's fingers tightened unconsciously around the dishcloth in his hands. "He's okay now," he said softly. "Thank you for asking."
The woman exhaled in visible relief.
"Good. That little boy always waved at me through the window."
Mark smiled.
"He still does."
The woman ordered tea and two pastries she absolutely did not need. Santa noticed it immediately for what it was.
People were returning carefully.
Not because the café sold coffee, but because it had become something safe to them.
Something alive.
Near 11 o'clock, the door opened again, and the atmosphere shifted instantly.
Perth stepped inside wearing dark slacks and a charcoal coat, rainwater still glistening faintly against his shoulders. His sleeves were rolled neatly to his forearms, tie missing for once.
The café quieted slightly, not from fear but recognition. People knew his face now. The headlines made sure of that.
Santa still hated those words, but Perth didn't hesitate.
His gaze found Santa immediately and softened immediately.
"Morning," Perth said quietly.
Santa's heartbeat stumbled embarrassingly hard.
"Morning."
Mark looked between them with poorly hidden amusement.
"I'll make coffee."
Perth's lips twitched faintly, while Santa tried not to stare at him.
It still felt surreal sometimes, seeing Perth inside this life. Inside this café.
Inside mornings that once belonged only to survival.
Perth leaned slightly against the register. "I had a meeting nearby."
Santa raised a brow.
Perth paused.
"...That's a lie."
Santa laughed before he could stop himself. The sound startled both of them, because Perth hadn't heard that laugh in years, and Santa hadn't realized how much he missed giving it to him.
Perth's expression softened dangerously. "I missed that," he admitted quietly.
Santa looked down quickly, pretending to have a sudden interest in sugar packets. "You're staring," he mumbled.
Santa nearly dropped the spoon in his hand. "Perth," he whispered, horrified.
An elderly woman near the window giggled openly into her tea.
Perth looked entirely unashamed.
Mark returned with coffee.
"One black coffee," he announced dramatically before placing a second cup beside Santa. "And one tea for emotional support."
Santa groaned softly.
"Traitor."
Perth looked strangely content simply standing there, like this mattered more than million dollar meetings.
And maybe it did.
Around lunchtime, the café became crowded.
Students filled corner tables with laptops and textbooks. Office workers lined up near the register. Conversations layered warmly across the room.
LUNARIA sounded alive again.
Santa moved through the café easily now, apron dusted lightly with flour while he carried drinks from table to table.
Perth watched him from the corner seat near the windows.
Watched the way customers smiled at Santa. How children trusted him immediately. How he remembered regular orders without writing them down.
This wasn't survival anymore.
This was home.
Force arrived unexpectedly just after noon. He stopped dead near the entrance.
The café was packed.
Luke sat proudly on a stool behind the counter wearing an oversized apron that read ASSISTANT MANAGER.
And Perth Tanapon...
Was washing dishes.
Force blinked once slowly.
"...Perth?"
Perth looked up calmly.
"The sink was full."
Force stared harder.
"You threatened a board member for spilling coffee once."
Luke pointed proudly toward the pastry display. "I'm working."
Mark coughed loudly from behind the espresso machine. "Three."
Luke looked betrayed.
"Why would you expose me like this?"
The café burst into laughter.
Even Force looked dangerously close to smiling.
Santa watched quietly from the counter. Seven years ago, he couldn't imagine this.
Perth in rolled sleeves with Luke laughing freely, and warmth instead of fear. The ache in his chest still existed, but now it hurts differently.
Like healing.
Later that evening, rain began again.
Soft at first, then slowly became heavier.
Customers lingered longer because of it, sipping drinks slowly while thunder rolled faintly outside.
Luke sat cross legged on the floor near Perth's chair, coloring with intense concentration.
Perth glanced down.
"What are you drawing?"
Perth looked carefully at the page.
Three stick figures stood behind a crooked counter beneath a giant yellow moon.
One taller figure wore black, another had brown hair, and the smallest one stood between them holding both their hands.
Perth's throat tightened.
Luke pointed seriously.
"That's Daddy."
Then...
"That's Papa."
His small finger tapped the center figure proudly. "And that's me keeping you together."
Silence fell quietly around them.
Santa looked away first, eyes suspiciously bright.
Perth crouched beside Luke slowly.
"You already do," he said hoarsely.
Luke smiled like this answer was obvious.
Children made truth sound painfully simple sometimes.
By night, the rain finally slowed.
Customers filtered out gradually until only soft music remained and warm golden light reflected against the windows.
Mark finished stacking chairs.
"I'm leaving before you two become emotionally devastating again."
Santa threw a napkin at him.
"Goodnight."
Perth nodded seriously.
"Understood."
Mark looked satisfied with this answer and left.
Silence settled softly afterward.
Luke had fallen asleep across two chairs pushed together, one tiny hand still clutching a crayon.
Santa approached carefully and brushed hair away from his forehead.
"He was excited today," Santa whispered.
Perth stood beside him.
"He loves this place."
Perth looked around slowly.
The chalkboard menu, the hanging lights, to the tiny scratches in wooden tables from years of use.
Then he looked at Santa.
"I understand why."
Santa swallowed.
The city glowed quietly beyond the windows. Traffic blurred beneath rainfall and distant neon.
Inside LUNARIA, warmth remained.
Perth reached for Santa's hand carefully, giving him time to pull away, but Santa didn't.
Their fingers intertwined naturally.
Like muscle memory, like home recognizing home.
Santa looked at him.
Perth smiled faintly, tired and honest.
"But this..." His thumb brushed gently across Santa's knuckles.
"This feels more important than anything I've ever built."
Santa's eyes burned suddenly.
For years he carried everything alone, but now someone stood beside him willingly.
Not out of obligation, but out of love.
Real love.
The kind that stayed.
Luke stirred sleepily behind them.
"...Papa?"
Perth squeezed Santa's hand gently.
"Still here."
Luke smiled without opening his eyes fully. "Good."
Then immediately fell back asleep.
Santa laughed softly through tears threatening his eyes.
Outside, rain continued falling over Bangkok.
But inside the café, beneath warm lights and the smell of coffee, something fragile finally began believing it could last.