Chapter 19 - Symptoms
Life settled again after that night.
Laundry piled up over chairs.
Luke returned to school with dramatic stories about "living in a mansion now."
Meetings resumed. The café stayed busy, and somewhere between routine and quiet happiness...
Santa's body began to change.
The first sign something was wrong was the toast.
Santa stood in the kitchen at seven in the morning staring at a perfectly normal slice of bread like it had insulted his entire bloodline.
The smell alone made his stomach twist violently.
Across the kitchen island, Perth blinked slowly over his coffee.
"It's..." he started carefully.
"...bread."
Santa narrowed his eyes immediately.
"It's burnt."
Perth glanced at it. The toast was barely golden. "It's barely warm," he replied cautiously.
Santa's expression somehow became even more irritating. "Exactly."
Perth wisely closed his mouth.
The silence that followed was tense enough to concern nations.
Luke sat at the table in dinosaur pajamas, spoon hovering uncertainly above his cereal while he looked between both his parents with growing concern.
Santa inhaled slowly through his nose. "Yes, sweetheart?"
Santa looked personally attacked.
"I'm not scary."
Luke nodded very quickly.
"Okay."
Perth hid his smile behind the coffee mug.
Santa noticed instantly.
"Why are you smiling?"
Perth nearly choked.
"I'm not..."
Luke whispered to his cereal bowl,
"Oh no."
By noon, Santa was irritated by absolutely everything.
The sunlight coming through Lunaria's windows was "too aggressive." The café playlist suddenly sounded annoying.
Someone ordered orange juice too loudly for his liking, even Mark breathing near him felt offensive.
Mark stared at him in disbelief.
"...I need oxygen to survive."
Santa sighed dramatically like this was deeply inconvenient.
Meanwhile, Perth sat peacefully in the corner booth with his laptop open, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, looking offensively handsome while reviewing documents.
That annoyed Santa most of all.
He looked too calm, too attractive and too composed.
It felt suspicious.
A customer approached Perth to ask something about the WiFi password and smiled at him for approximately two seconds too long.
Santa's jaw tightened immediately.
He appeared beside the table before Perth even realized he'd moved.
Perth looked up, confused.
"...No?"
Santa crossed his arms.
"Then why is he smiling?"
The customer blinked rapidly.
Perth looked genuinely baffled.
"...Because he's human?"
Santa stared at him another second before turning sharply away with an offended huff.
Perth watched him go like he'd just survived a natural disaster.
Mark slowly approached the table.
"You," he said solemnly to Perth,
"are in danger."
Perth looked helpless.
"I genuinely don't understand what I did."
Unfortunately...
while Santa was becoming emotionally unstable, Perth was dying.
By afternoon, nausea hit him out of nowhere.
One second he was answering emails.
The next second, he was sprinting toward the restroom like his life depended on it.
The violent sound of retching echoed through the café.
Santa froze mid step.
Every ounce of irritation vanished instantly.
He rushed toward the bathroom so fast Mark nearly got hit by the swinging door.
Santa dropped beside him immediately, worry flooding his face.
Perth looked pale and miserable.
"I think your coffee is trying to kill me," he groaned weakly.
Santa pressed a cool hand against his forehead instantly. "You're burning up."
Santa looked offended.
"That croissant was disrespectful."
Perth let out a helpless laugh, then immediately gagged again.
Santa rubbed circles against his back while looking increasingly alarmed.
Luke appeared in the doorway clutching his dinosaur plush tightly.
His eyes widened.
"Is Daddy dying?"
Luke considered this seriously.
"...Should I draw him a goodbye card?"
The days after became stranger.
Much stranger.
Santa snapped, then sulking followed.
Then clinging, then pouting, then emotional devastation over tiny things.
Sometimes all within the same hour.
One evening he got teary eyed because the café ran out of strawberry cake.
The next morning he nearly started a fight because Perth used his favorite mug.
Perth looked down at the plain white mug. "...We own six identical ones."
Santa gasped softly like betrayal had struck again.
Luke sat nearby coloring quietly.
He leaned toward Mark and whispered, "Papa's haunted."
Mark nodded immediately.
"I believe that."
The clinginess was worse.
Santa constantly wanted Perth near him. Fingers tangled in his sleeve.
Leaning against his shoulder while working. Resting his head on Perth's chest during meetings like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Sometimes he'd walk into a room just to touch him briefly before leaving again.
Perth accepted all of it without complaint, but mostly because he was too busy suffering himself.
Morning nausea became routine.
Afternoon headaches followed.
Evenings ended with him exhausted and half asleep on the couch.
One night Santa stood in front of him with narrowed eyes. "You're losing weight."
Perth blinked tiredly.
"I'm not."
Santa folded his arms.
"I literally memorize your face."
Perth smiled weakly despite himself.
"...You're counting?"
Santa scowled immediately.
"Obviously."
Luke looked up from the couch, blanket bundled around him.
Santa froze instantly.
His expression softened at once.
"No," he said quietly, crouching beside him. "Never."
Luke frowned thoughtfully.
"Then why do you shout and cry and hug him all the time?"
Santa opened his mouth, then closed it slowly. "...Papa's body is being weird."
Luke nodded slowly like this made sense. Then he whispered,
"Daddy's body is weird too."
Both of them looked toward the bathroom. A second later, Perth gagged loudly again.
Luke sighed heavily.
"Very weird."
Santa laughed helplessly despite himself.
Then Luke asked softly.
"What if Daddy disappears like you did before?"
The room fell quiet instantly.
Santa's chest hurts.
He pulled Luke into his arms immediately, holding him tightly against his chest.
Luke relaxed slowly against him.
From the bathroom doorway, Perth watched them silently with burning eyes.
That night the rain came softly against the windows.
The house felt warm. Dim lights glowing low. Bangkok city stretching endlessly outside.
Santa lay awake beside Perth while the city slept. Everything inside him felt too loud lately.
Perth shifted closer sleepily, warmth brushing against him beneath the blankets.
Without thinking, Santa moved instantly, curling against his chest and hiding his face in the crook of his neck.
Perth's arms wrapped around him automatically. "Santa?" he murmured softly.
Perth smiled faintly against his hair.
Santa breathed him in slowly until the tightness inside his chest eased.
Santa's lips brushed his jaw absentmindedly. "Do you hate it?"
Perth's eyes opened immediately.
"...No."
Santa relaxed visibly. "Good," he murmured softly. "Because I don't think I can stop."
Perth swallowed slowly.
Something about that answer, the trembling honesty of it, made his chest ache.
His hand slid gently along Santa's back.
Three weeks later, Santa stood alone in the bathroom before dawn.
The house remained silent.
Everyone is still asleep.
Soft morning light spilled across marble floors while his hands trembled around the pregnancy test.
Two clear lines stared back at him.
Positive.
For a long moment, Santa couldn't breathe. Then slowly, he sat down on the edge of the bathtub.
Everything suddenly made sense.
The anger, the jealousy, the overwhelming emotions, the desperate need for affection, and the exhaustion.
His hand drifted slowly toward his stomach. A laugh escaped him softly through tears.
His eyes burned, not from fear this time, but something softer and overwhelming. From the bedroom came a miserable groan.
Santa burst into helpless laughter.
He wiped quickly at his tears before standing.
Another dramatic groan echoed from the bedroom. "Tell Luke I loved him."
Santa shook his head affectionately.
Seven years ago, he stared at another test alone in silence and terror.
This time...
the house was full with warmth and more importantly with love waiting just outside the bathroom door.
Santa opened the drawer carefully and tucked the pregnancy test beneath folded towels.
Not yet.
He wanted one more moment.
One tiny selfish moment where this secret belonged only to him.
He rested his hand against his stomach once more. Then smiled softly.
Outside the bathroom, life waited for him again, and this time...
he wasn't facing it alone.
.