Chapter 22 - Things Unsaid
The house was too quiet.
Like every wall inside the Tanapon residence had learned how to hold its breath.
Santa noticed it first in the mornings.
The sunlight still poured through the massive kitchen windows in soft golden lines, warming marble countertops and polished floors, but somehow the warmth never reached his chest.
The silence felt different now.
Even the staff moved more gently these days, speaking in lowered voices whenever Perth walked past.
Because Perth looked tired, not from overworked, but much a deeper kind.
The kind that settled beneath his skin and refused to leave.
Santa saw it in everything.
The slower way Perth descended the staircase each morning, one hand lightly brushing the railing as if steadying himself without wanting anyone to notice.
The faint shadows beneath his eyes.
The way he paused sometimes after standing too quickly, his jaw tightening for only a second before smoothing back into calm, and Santa was unraveling because of it.
Perth blinked slowly from where he sat wrapped in a cardigan Santa forced onto him fifteen minutes earlier. "...It's seven in the morning," Perth said hoarsely.
Luke nodded seriously.
"Soup is safer."
Santa pressed his lips together so tightly until they hurt, because Luke sounded too careful and too aware for seven years old.
He turned back toward the stove before either of them could see the panic flicker across his face.
The smell of garlic made his stomach twist violently, making he gripped the counter harder.
Behind him, Perth spoke softly.
"Luke, Papa's making breakfast. Don't bully him."
Santa closed his eyes briefly.
Helping.
Everyone was helping, that somehow made everything feel worse.
Perth's condition didn't improve.
Some days were manageable.
Others weren't.
There were afternoons where he looked almost normal, sitting beside Luke at Lunaria Café with rolled up sleeves and soft smiles while helping with homework.
Then there were nights where he couldn't keep water down.
Nights where Santa stood helplessly beside the bathroom sink while Perth leaned over it trembling slightly from exhaustion.
Santa hated those nights.
Hated the helplessness clawing beneath his skin.
Hated how fear transformed instantly into anger because anger felt easier to survive.
Luke looked up from the carpet immediately, clutching two dinosaur figures mid battle.
Silence fell.
Perth rubbed tiredly at his forehead.
"Santa," he said gently, voice calm in a way that only made Santa feel more unstable, "you're acting like I'm going to disappear."
The words hit too hard.
Santa's chest tightened painfully, because yes, that was exactly what it felt like.
Like happiness had arrived too quickly, like life had finally become soft enough to lose.
He turned away sharply before Perth could see his expression. "I'm going to shower," he muttered.
His voice sounded wrong even to himself.
Sleep became impossible, but every night his body betrayed him differently.
Some nights heat curled low beneath his skin until every brush of fabric felt unbearable.
Other nights fear sat so heavily in his chest he could barely breathe. He would lie awake beside Perth listening to him breathe.
His palm drifted unconsciously toward his stomach. Santa swallowed hard, he wasn't afraid of the baby, but he was afraid of losing this life.
Afraid of loving something so much the universe might demand payment for it.
Again.
Luke noticed everything far too much.
He noticed Santa flinching whenever certain foods smelled too strong.
Noticed how his Papa suddenly cried during cartoon commercials.
Noticed how his Daddy looked pale all the time, and most dangerously...
He noticed the way Santa rested protective hands over his stomach whenever he thought no one was looking.
One afternoon, Luke climbed quietly onto the couch beside Perth.
Perth looked exhausted, head tipped back against the cushions while tea cooled untouched beside him.
Luke studied him carefully.
"...Are you dying?" he asked plainly.
Perth nearly inhaled his tea wrong.
"What?"
Perth stared for a second.
Then slowly glanced toward the kitchen.
Santa stood by the sink washing the same mug repeatedly, shoulders tense beneath oversized sleeves. His movements were too sharp and too restless.
Perth's expression softened instantly.
"I'm not dying," he said gently.
Luke frowned.
"...Promise?"
Perth pulled him closer immediately, pressing a kiss into his hair.
"Promise."
Luke relaxed slightly, but not fully, and that hurt Perth more than he expected.
The breaking point arrived quietly.
No screaming or dramatic collapse, just exhaustion finally becoming too heavy to carry.
Santa hadn't slept properly in nearly thirty hours. His emotions buzzed painfully beneath his skin like exposed wires.
Every sound felt too loud and every thought sounded too sharp.
Near midnight, Perth found him sitting barefoot on the balcony.
Bangkok glittered endlessly below them, but Santa stared at nothing.
Wind shifted softly through his hair.
Santa didn't answer immediately.
A hollow laugh escaped Santa.
"So should you."
Perth ignored the chill biting through the night air and sat beside him anyway.
For a long time, neither spoke.
The silence between them wasn't empty anymore, it had learned how to hold pain gently.
Finally Santa whispered,
"I don't like feeling this out of control."
Perth's chest tightened instantly.
"You've never been out of control."
Santa laughed softly again, but this one sounded fragile. "I am now."
His hand moved unconsciously toward his stomach.
Perth noticed immediately. His gaze dropped. Then lifted slowly back to Santa's face. "You're scared," he said quietly.
Santa swallowed hard.
"I left once because people said you had a future," he whispered. "I spent seven years believing loving me would ruin you."
Perth's jaw tightened painfully.
"You were never the danger."
Santa's eyes shimmered under the city lights. "But what if I ruin this?" he asked brokenly. "What if I change everything again?"
Perth reached for his hand instantly.
"Santa," he said softly but firmly, "you already changed everything when you came back."
Silence stretched between them.
The city hummed slowly below.
Santa's fingers trembled inside Perth's. "There's something I haven't told you."
Perth didn't rush him. He only held his hand tighter.
Santa stared down at their joined fingers. "I didn't plan it," he admitted shakily. "At first I thought I was just emotional. Or stressed. Or maybe too happy."
Perth's breathing slowed.
Perth froze.
Santa finally looked up.
"I'm pregnant."
The world didn't shatter, it softened completely.
Perth stared at him like he'd forgotten how to breathe. "You..." His voice broke. "You're sure?"
Santa nodded slowly.
"Very early."
Emotion flashed across Perth's face so quickly Santa almost missed it.
Perth suddenly laughed weakly.
"Oh my god."
Santa blinked through tears.
"What?"
Santa let out a broken laugh that turned halfway into a sob.
Perth moved instantly.
He pulled Santa into his arms so fast the chair shifted beneath them.
Santa clutched his shirt tightly.
"I was so scared."
Perth pulled back slowly then stared directly at Santa's stomach, then at Santa, then back at the stomach again.
His expression became deeply suspicious.
Santa blinked.
"What?"
Perth crouched slightly in front of him, genuinely looking concerned now. "Because statistically," he said seriously, "this shouldn't be possible."
Santa crossed his arms immediately.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Santa choked out a laugh.
"I'm being serious."
Santa laughed harder despite himself.
Perth pointed accusingly.
"I look at you lovingly and your body starts processing paperwork."
Santa covered his face laughing now, and for the first time in weeks...
The fear loosened just a little.
Perth's expression softened completely then. "You know," he murmured quietly, resting one hand gently over Santa's stomach, "at this rate the Tanapon family line isn't continuing."
Santa looked at him.
The tenderness in his voice nearly shattered Santa all over again.
They told Luke carefully and gently two days later.
Luke sat cross-legged between them on the bed listening with huge serious eyes. "...So Daddy's not sick?" he asked first.
Perth smiled weakly.
"Apparently not."
Luke turned slowly toward Santa.
"You're making a baby?"
Santa nodded nervously.
Silence.
Then suddenly...
Both adults blinked.
Luke pointed dramatically.
"The house felt weird."
Perth burst into laughter.
Santa stared.
"What does that even mean?"
Luke shrugged proudly.
"It felt crowded already."
That night, Luke fell asleep sprawled between them.
One tiny hand clutching Perth's sleeve while the other resting against Santa's stomach unconsciously.
The room glowed softly beneath warm lamplight.
Santa rested quietly against Perth's chest while Perth's fingers traced lazy circles along his spine.
No fear...
Just a future finally unfolding without asking permission first.