Chapter Text
It took Pat’s brain five minutes to catch up with the rest of his body. And another five minutes to determine that he couldn’t let Pran’s move go unanswered. He thought he might have to spend the entire bus ride back to Bangkok figuring out how to get Pran alone that night, but it turned out Pran’s friends had done it for him.
They had apparently spent the previous night drunkenly passed out on the beach and when the teacher found them, they were instructed to sit at the front of the bus and be ready to speak to the head of their faculty when they returned.
So the seat next to Pran was empty. And Pat would be able to get Pran all to himself when they returned.
Pat slid into the seat next to Pran, whose eyes flicked wide for a bit and then narrowed, eyeing where his friends had been imprisoned at the front of the bus. “Back for more, friend?” Pran asked, giving that smug look he always gave when he wanted Pat to think he didn’t care. “You’re only hurting yourself.”
“That was the best you had, wasn’t it?,” Pat asked, making sure to lean in as close as he could to Pran without anyone else noticing.
“Guess you’ll have to find out.” Pran turned toward the window, seemingly ready to be back to ignoring Pat. That was what he really couldn’t take.
Most of the bus was quiet. Everyone had stayed up too late partying the night before, even Pran’s friends seemed too hungover to pay too much attention to them. Most everyone looked to be asleep.
The aircon clicked on, blasting air from the overhead vents. Pran shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, closing his eyes as if he was going to sleep himself.
Pran had such nice, full lips. They were so soft and warm. Careful. Just like Pran. They had spent so much time arguing, pushing at each other, trying to get at each other. But that kiss was open. It was like the beach, like anything was possible. Pat wanted to get there again. But there seemed to be a time limit for how long Pat was allowed to be in that place. It wasn't so bad when Pat didn't know what it was like to be there, that close to Pran. But now he did, and he couldn't get it out of his head. It was like being outside on a cold day when the sun came out. The warmth filled you up, but when the sun went back behind the clouds, you were even colder than before.
And right now Pat felt farther away than ever.
He opened up his bag at his feet and took out his jacket, unzipping it so that it could be spread as a small blanket and laid it over both of them. Pran opened his eyes and gave Pat a look like what now? Pat shifted his body a bit, leaning close to Pran’s ear so that he could be heard over the aircon when he whispered, “I would never let my boyfriend be cold.”
Pran huffed, but he didn’t pull away, didn’t shove Pat’s jacket off him. He just turned his head again. Pat glanced around the bus one more time then let his hand slip under the jacket. It was only moments before Pat touched skin, letting his fingers glide down Pran’s forearm, onto his wrist. “You’re warm,” he said, leaning the side of his head against the headrest so he could comfortably watch Pran’s reaction. Pran just looked back at Pat, stone faced. He didn't move his hand, didn't even flinch.
Pran looked unimpressed as Pat moved his fingers over his hand. Maybe if Pat played this right, he’d have a chance to put Pran’s fingers in his mouth. But none of that would happen if he didn't get some sort of reaction. Pat blinked innocently, shifting himself so that their legs pressed together. It was the full length of their bare legs skin to skin, the contact making Pat a bit insane, but he held it together. Pat tilted his head trying to say, I guess this is okay, and moved his hand lower, until his fingers grazed the skin above Pran’s knee.
Pran’s eyelids fluttered. It was only a momentary slip, but Pat caught it. He was moving in the right direction. He let the tip of his finger glide back and forth absently as he leaned back in his seat. It was almost impossible containing it all. The softness of Pran’s skin, the way he was breathing so steadily as he eyed Pat, the fact that he was touching Pran this way, getting to feel him and doing it here, where someone might notice. Pat might die before they get back to campus.
Pat started to write little notes with his fingers, wondering if Pran could tell what he was saying. The small chance to say it, to spill the truth. He couldn’t help it. You know I love you, he wrote. Still, Pran didn’t move. He just sat there, not stiff or frozen, but something. Quiet. He didn’t tell Pat to stop, didn’t banter, didn’t do anything but continue to breathe deeply for the last few minutes of the ride.
And as the bus made its turn into the parking lot, Pran finally pressed his leg back against Pat, moving his own hand under the jacket and gliding it over Pat’s inner thigh. “That was so sweet of you to share your jacket, friend,” Pran said, trailing his hand over Pat’s leg. If he just moved his hand a few centimeters to the left Pat would definitely die.
The bus lurched to a stop and all the students started to wake up, grabbing their bags from the floor and moving to the exit. Pran stood, the movement discarding Pat’s jacket on the floor. Pat stood and retrieved it, shoving it back in his bag, standing in front of their seats.
“Do you mind?” Pran asked, his bag already over his shoulder, prepared to depart.
“Not at all,” Pat said, twisting his body. “Just a bit stiff from the ride.” He swung his arm across his chest and pulled his forearm tight, stretching his shoulder and flexing his muscles. Pran’s eyes followed his movement. Pat wanted Pran’s eyes all over him. “How about you, Pran? Are you a little...stiff?” He flicked his eyes down.
Pran cocked his eyebrow. “No, not at all. I’ll have no problem moving off this bus as quickly as possible. The whole ride was really quite boring.” It was Pat’s turn to roll his eyes. Pran hadn’t reacted, but Pat knew he was not bored. The hand that moved over Pat’s thigh was quite interested. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” Pran said, sliding his body past Pat. Pran could have easily leaned away toward the other seats, but instead he pressed their chests together hard. When their hips met, Pat lost his breath. Pran felt so damn good and he was so damn smug about it. It was amazingly hot.
“You probably should take some time to relax,” Pran said as he moved down the aisle to the door. “Let that stiffness subside,” he called as he stepped out, leaving Pat still by their seats.
By the time Pat got off the bus. Pran had somehow already left. Pat took off down the path to their residence. The sun had finally laid to rest and the whole campus was under a calm blanket of darkness, only the golden glow of the street lights left to guide them to the dorms. Pat finally caught up to Pran walking along the path in a shadow between street lights.
He looked to be walking casually, but there was no way Pran could have gotten this far ahead without having run a bit himself. “Is controlling yourself with me so hard that you have to take off like that?” Pat asked.
Pran’s eyes flicked up at him and then he curled his lip. “I’m a kind person. I thought you could use the breather.” Then he smiled, that soft beautiful smile and Pat lost his head entirely.
He grabbed Pran’s hips and pulled him into the shadows of one of the academic buildings. Pat slid his hands into the back pockets of Pran’s shorts as he leaned back against the brick of the wall. “Maybe we both could use a breather,” he said.
“You’re so cocky. You are just asking to lose this thing.” Pran put his hands on the wall on each side of Pat’s head and leaned forward, whispering, “If I put my lips on yours again, this would be over.”
Pat’s pulse raced, but still somehow he knew exactly how to respond. The exact thing to get what he wanted. “You’re making excuses. if you kissed me again, you couldn’t stop yourself from confessing.”
“Oh, is that so?” Pran asked. “Then I guess we should find out.”
Pran’s lips took him over fully, completely. Pat loved how Pran tasted, crisp, almost like mint. And he smelled so good, clean and fresh. Pat’s knees almost gave out as Pran slid his tongue into Pat's mouth, teasing Pat's tongue. But he held himself steady. Somehow he found it in himself to meet the movement of Pran’s lips over his, taking in his air, swallowing him down.
He wanted Pran more than he had wanted anything. But Pat had to hold it together or Pran would try to go away again.
They kissed for a while, both their hands locked in the same places, as if any big movements would break the spell. And then finally it happened, Pran pulled back, while Pat still held his body close. Pat wanted to do it again, wanted to never stop kissing Pran. But he needed to keep this going. “That was fine, I guess,” Pat said, sliding his thumb over Pran’s bottom lip.
“I think you’ll need more practice, friend, if you think that kind of kiss deserves a love confession,” Pran responded. He scrunched his nose like it was a complaint, but he slid his hand down Pat’s shoulder as he pulled away. Pat impulsively reached out, their fingers entangling for a moment before Pran left him standing alone in the dark.