Chapter Text
H
If anyone asked Peach what being married to Thee felt like, he would say it was warm, loud, and somehow always full.
The house had changed after the wedding. Not in a dramatic way, but in small, meaningful ones. There were unopened gifts stacked neatly against the wall, flower arrangements that refused to wilt, handwritten notes from people who rarely showed softness, and boxes from brands that suddenly believed love was worth sponsoring. All of it existed because Theerakit had decided to propose to Peach live, in front of the whole world, without hesitation or shame.
Peach still remembered that moment clearly. The way Thee’s voice never shook. The way Peach cried and laughed at the same time, realizing there was no version of his life anymore that didn’t include this man.
The wedding itself had been perfect.
The night of the wedding had almost been perfect too.
Almost.
Peach sat on the living room rug, legs folded beneath him, sorting through ribbon and packaging paper while the children made the space their personal playground. Mhork was crouched on the floor, eyes glued to his remote control car as it zipped past Peach’s knee far too closely for comfort.
“Phorphor, look,” Mhork said proudly. “It can drift.”
Peach leaned away just in time. “That’s amazing, baby, but please don’t drift into me. Your daddy will ban toys for a week.”
Mhork looked scandalized. “daddy wouldn’t.”
Peach smiled knowingly. “Your daddy is still angry about a certain interruption.”
On the couch, Marn giggled, her feet swinging back and forth. “Uncle Rome is bad.”
Peach laughed under his breath. “That is one way to put it.”
Rome had chosen the worst possible moment to act like an uncle. Sending two sleepy children to knock on their bedroom door on their wedding night because they wanted to play with their dads was not an accident. Thee’s smile that night had been slow and terrifying, and the week that followed had been nothing short of brutal.
Extra work. Cancelled plans. Meetings scheduled at impossible hours.
Rome looked exhausted.
Peach had stepped in before Thee crossed a line. He had simply told him that if he kept going, Peach might start feeling bad for Rome. That had been enough. Thee stopped immediately.
That alone said everything.
“Phorphor,” Marn said impatiently. “You promised.”
Peach turned to her with a soft smile. “I didn’t forget.”
He opened the small makeup kit one of their friends had sent as a gift and gently brushed blush onto Marn’s cheeks. She watched herself in a small mirror, eyes wide and delighted.
“More,” she said.
“You’re already beautiful,” Peach replied gently.
“But I want more.”
Peach sighed, pretending to be defeated, and added another layer. They both laughed when Marn looked impossibly pleased with herself.
“You look like Phorphor,” Mhork announced from the floor.
Peach paused, then smiled softly. “That’s because she’s my girl.”
When the clock crept closer to lunchtime, Peach clapped his hands together. “Alright, you two. Go change. We’re going out.”
“daddy said yes?” Mhork asked.
“He suggested it,” Peach replied.
That was enough to send them running down the hall.
Peach gathered a few remaining small packages he had brought out from the bedroom earlier, organizing them absently. He didn’t hear footsteps, but he felt it when Thee walked into the room.
Thee always did that.
“How are they?” he asked.
“High on gifts and attention,” Peach replied. “Like their daddy”
Thee huffed. “Rude.”
Peach picked up a small package and held it out. “Here.”
Thee frowned slightly. “What’s that?”
“You can return it,” Peach said casually. “It’s what I was going to wear on our honeymoon night.”
Thee’s brows knit together as he took the package. It was… light. Too light.
He opened it.
Paused.
Looked inside again.
“…There’s nothing in here,” he said slowly. “Just a chapstick?”
Peach tilted his head.
The realization hit like a truck.
Thee looked up.
Peach was already walking away.
“Suffer,” Peach said over his shoulder, voice sweet, deadly calm.
He didn’t break eye contact. Not even when he smiled.
The kind of smile that ruined men—Ruins HIM.
Thee stood frozen.
His imagination betrayed him instantly—unhelpfully vivid, traitorous, unrestrained. His ears burned. His throat went dry.
A chapstick.
He swallowed hard.
Somewhere down the hall, a child laughed.
Thee exhaled shakily, staring at the innocent little tube in his hand.
“How,” he muttered to himself, “am I supposed to survive today?”
From the hallway, Peach’s laughter floated back, soft, victorious.
And Thee knew, with terrifying certainty that, Marriage was going to destroy him and he's ready for all of it.