Chapter Text
After a rough couple of years, things for Pran seem to finally be starting to go well. After more pleading than he cared to admit, his mom finally allowed Pran to move home, enabling him to start the new semester at a local university. Not just any local university either, but the one his friend Wai attends! Pran has only been here a couple weeks and already been welcomed into Wai’s friend group, he’s enjoying his classes that are actually being taught in his native language for a welcome change, his new friends put him forth for class president, and he’s even found an apartment right by campus that he can use as a dorm! He gets to move in this weekend and already has started buying things to decorate. Which, to be perfectly honest, might be overkill but he loves designing and decorating, and has never had his own space before! It will be amazing.
Yes, Pran is finally feeling good. He's back home, he's enjoying studying architecture, and his first assignment is due tomorrow which he’s already almost done! He sits now in a student work space listening to relaxing music through his ear buds, cracking his knuckles, and opening up his art supplies. He sets things out just right, making sure everything is aligned perfectly. He picks out several shades of blue, holding them up and studying them carefully before choosing the exact right one he sees in his mind, getting to work.
This is basically Pran’s… well maybe not happy place, but content place anyway. He’s comfortable, relaxed, and feeling optimistic overall.
Or he is until someone yelling his name half collapses on his shoulder.
“Oy!!” Pran takes out an earbud in annoyance, looking at Safe, one of his new friends, who is struggling to catch his breath.
"Sorry!" Safe pants. "We've got a situation, Louis is heading there now."
Pran shakes his head dismissively. "Louis gets himself into a fight every day"
"But it's Wai that's getting beaten up!"
Pran stiffens at that. He likes Louis and Safe, his new friends, but he met Wai during the darkest point of his life, and Wai supported him. They've been close ever since, and Pran is not about to sit here and just let him take a beating.
"Come on!" Safe hits Pran on the shoulder. Pran looks at him, then smacks the table as he stands up. Let's do this!!
After putting away his stuff properly of course. He takes out his earbuds, putting them in their case properly, then tidies up his colours, ignoring Safe's annoyance.
"Damn it, Pran!" Safe groans. But Pran's been through worse than Safe's frustration, and he’s not going to be able to help Wai if he's distracted.
They arrive to a fight well underway. Pran barely has time to recognise who is there as he rushes in, just recognising that some more Architecture students have come to Wai's aid, and they're fighting some guys in navy blue shirts.
Engineering students.
If there is one flaw Pran feels about this university, it is that his faculty and the faculty of Engineering are infamous rivals. Despite the fact that they take a lot of courses together, they loathe each other. This isn't even Pran's first physical fight with them, and he’s only in his second week here!
Pran is not an aggressive or violent person, but he is athletic and can hold his own. He rushes in as he sees Wai taking a hit, jumping and kicking the Engineering student in the back. He hears the guy yell in pain as he goes down and Pran lands hard, keeping his eyes on the back of the aggressor, every nerve on edge. He's ready.
The aggressor stands up, and Pran feels a sudden lurch in his stomach. There is something familiar… but no. No it can't be. It's not possible. Not after all this time.
The Engineering student turns around and Pran stares, heart pounding painfully.
It's been the years, but Pran would recognise those fierce eyes anywhere.
It can be.
It is.
Pat.
PAT.
Time seems to slow as the two of them stare at each other, breathing heavily. Pran's entire range of vision seems to narrow, pinpointing until all he can see is Pat's eyes, fierce eyes that Pran has known since birth. It's been three years since he last saw them… since they contributed to his life being ruined…
Pran is finally getting his life back. He is NOT going to let Pat ruin it! Not again.
He raises his fist with a yell, as Pat does the same, and they charge at each other ready to take out all their emotions on each other…
A whistle sounds, breaking through the fog, stopping the fight in its tracks before Pat or Pran get a hit in. Pran spins, seeing the security guard who has come around the corner to stop them. The groups scatter, Pran grabbing Wai and helping him up, then pushing him ahead of him as they flee the scene.
Pran doesn't see where Pat goes. He can't care about that.
Never again.
The architecture students split as they run, Pran sticking with Wai, Safe, and Louis. They get to the architecture faculty building, settling themselves at a table. They pass around some water, rehydrating and rinsing off their hands.
“I almost got them, before the professor showed up.” Wai complains, shaking water off his hands. Pran rolls his eyes, tossing a towel at him. Wai grunts, grabbing it.
“What did you do to them this time?” Pran asks.
Wai tosses the towel back at him. “I didn’t! They started it. Here’s the story: we were at a bar last night, watching a football game. They were also there, and we were rooting for different teams. So, we were kinda… mocking each other a little.” Pran sighs, guessing where this is going. “But our team lost in the end, their team played so well! So I gave them a… thumbs up.”
Translation, middle finger. Pran groans, easily imagining the outcry these Engineering guys would have had at that.
“I dragged Wai back to his dormitory, and I thought they wouldn’t hold a grudge! But Wai got beaten up here anyway.” Louis adds.
“Serves you right.” Pran replies, still looking at Wai. Why can’t his friend just leave stuff alone? Especially knowing that Pat is involved… no, forget that. Forget Pat.
“I just don’t get it, Wai.” Safe chimes in. “Why did you have to mess with that guy? I heard he’s the boss of his faculty. Even our seniors don’t want to have problems with him. Who are you to dare?”
Are they still talking about Pat? Let him forget already! Pran keeps his face neutral, though he jumps slightly as Wai smacks the table.
“I’m not scared a bit! How about we take revenge in their territory this evening?”
“Look at the bruises on your face first.” Safe retorts.
“You forget something!” Louis points at Pran. “We have Pran the Warrior right here.”
“Wait a minute, I have nothing to do with this!” Pran is so not getting involved, not even for Wai’s sake. Not if Pat is involved as well. Pran needs stay far away from him. “Leave me out of it, don’t drag me into your mess. I’ve got work to do. And you,” he turns to Wai. “be careful. Let your guard down and they’ll finish you.”
Wai just rolls his eyes.
~
In the morning, Pran’s dad drives him to campus, but because Pran’s classes finish at different times each day, he has to get home on his own. Today he takes public transit, and it is a long trip. He sticks his earphones in, staring out the window, trying very hard not to think about Pat, but those fierce eyes work their way into his mind anyway.
Pat and Pran have been neighbours since birth, but their childhoods together were anything but peaceful. To say their families disliked each other would be putting it too mildly. They LOATHED each other. Over the years, Pran has heard many reasons. Both their dads ran similar businesses, and Pat’s dad engaged in some bid-rigging, trying force Pran’s out of business. Pran’s family stole Pat’s family’s employee. Pat’s family were all cheaters. Pran’s family was just trying to succeed and Pat’s couldn’t handle it. He’d heard it all a million times.
Pat and Pran were born in the same year, and as a result, the hatred their parents felt toward each other got largely pushed onto them. They’d been rivals since birth, competing before they even know why. Pran was both forbidden from being Pat’s friend, but expected to know all about him, to report back to his parents so they could make sure their son was “winning”. It was exhausting, and a lot of pressure, pressure that Pat’s family put on him as well. Pran knew he’d been through the same in this regard. They’d been in classes together since kindergarten, and competing every step of the way. It was complicated though… not always as black and white as their parents wanted it to be. When lives are as intermingled as this, it is hard to stay strictly enemies… or at least this was the case until Grade 10, when it all exploded around them and Pran took the brunt of the fall out.
And until today, Pran hasn’t seen Pat since.
He looks over at Pat’s house as he gets home. The lights are on, people are home. Is Pat? Hard to believe he would be, he must have a dorm close to the university. Pat has a younger sister, Pa, who would be in her last year of high school now. She was lucky enough to escape a lot of the rivalry, since Pran’s family didn’t have any more kids. She didn’t have to compete the same way.
Pran shakes his head, shaking the thoughts free. Stop thinking about it! He’s only here a couple more days, he got the keys to his apartment just today. Sure, Pat’s presence at university is an unwelcome surprise, but Pran can ignore him. They’re not in the same faculty, he won’t join Wai’s fight against him, and he will just go back to pretending that Pat doesn’t exist. Or trying to, anyway.
~
Mom is setting food out on the table as Pran carefully holds up his fork and spoon, measuring them properly. If they’re the exact same size, he can eat with them and nothing bad will happen; an illogical, yet all incompassing habit he’s been unable to quit since the incident. Always a kid who liked things to be a certain way, his tendencies ramped up considerably following the incident. Any little control he could maintain, even over pointless things like cutlery length, meant he was that much more in charge of his own life.
“Pran, pass me your plate,” Mom says, and Pran, satisfied with his cutlery at last, puts them down and passes the plate to her.
“Smells so great!” Dad enthuses, looking at the dishes in front of them.
“Yeah? I did my best.” Mom smiles brightly, finishing serving Pran and sitting down. The food does smell great. Mom, for all her other qualities, is an amazing cook. She picks up her fork and spoon to start eating, when Dad holds up a hand.
“Hold on!” Dad reaches for his phone. “This meal is perfect for this song. Right?” He smiles at Pran as the classical music starts to play. Pran and Mom both chuckle at that. Pran may be a perfectionist, but he didn’t develop the trait out of nowhere. “Now we can eat.”
Dad reaches for the soup with his spoon, and it’s Pran’s turn to stop him. “Hold it, Dad!” Pran holds out the serving spoon instead, giving his dad a look. Dad chuckles, self-deprecatingly, and takes the serving spoon while Mom laughs.
“Good boy,” Mom tells him, and Pran can’t help but feel the warm glow that comes from Mom’s approval.
They chat while they eat, following the usual order: Mom talks about the dishes she prepared, Dad talks about work, then it’s Pran’s turn to share about his day. As always, he tries to keep it positive. Today, he shares that his friends put him forward for First Year students Class President.
“Class president??” Dad asks in surprise, while Mom just gushes.
“Yes!”
“Can you handle it, since Architecture students have loads of work to do?” Dad continues.
Pran sniffs, as Dad hit on the exact thing he was worried about. “That’s what I’m afraid of. But my friends voted for me, I guess I’ll have to manage.”
Dad smiles and nods encouragingly as Mom takes over the conversation.
“By the way, have you paid for the dorm?”
“I have. I got the keys already.”
Mom nods her approval, and suddenly the words just spill out of Pran’s mouth. He doesn’t even remember deciding to say them. Why would he say them??
“I saw Pat. He is a student at the university too.”
Pran’s parents freeze and stare at him in shock. Pran immediately stars to squirm. Seriously, why bring it up? He just can’t seem to help it, it’s so ingrained in him to report on Pat to them.
“What faculty?” Dad asks, finally breaking the silence.
“Engineering,” Pran replies. “And he had a fight with Wai today.”
“Did he hurt you, Pran??” Mom studies him with concern and Pran shifts, uncomfortable.
“Of course not, I’m fine.”
“Those punks,” Dad rails. “The dad and the son, they’re the same kind!”
“Stay away from him,” Mom urges. “It’s not worth it. If he tries to pick on you, report him to the teachers.”
Pran nods, looking away, just wanting this conversation to end. Mom’s right, of course, it’s not worth it. Having Pat around only brings trouble. Pran learned that all too well.
“I wouldn’t have transferred you here if I had known you two would meet again,” Mom scoffs in annoyance, going back to her food, and something shrivels inside Pran.
Definitely never bring Pat up with them again. Pran has finally got his life back. He will NOT let Pat ruin it.
~
After dinner, Pran helps his mom clean up, finishing by taking out the garbage. Years ago, Pran and Pat’s dad got in a fight about whose bins could be where on the sidewalk, resulting in painting a line down the middle to separate them. Pran looks at it now as he shoves the garbage in his family’s bin, sighing. Don’t think about it, he hisses in his head, and brushes his hands off, turning to go back inside… just in time to see Pat approaching from down the street.
He’s dressed in casual home clothes, shorts and flip flops, and is eating an ice cream with fierce eyes fixed on Pran. Pran can’t help but look back at him.
Pat, never small or skinny, has bulked up a lot since high school, his muscles visible even under the shirt he’s wearing. Pran tries not to notice; the last thing he needs is for his parents to bug him about lifting more weights.
Pat stops in front of Pran, clearly studying him in return, and Pran feels a slight twinge of discomfort, until Pat takes a loud, slurping bite of his ice cream, breaking whatever spell had fallen over Pran, who just scoffs now. Gross. Pat may have grown up physically, but he’s still basically a child inside. Pat rolls his eyes, as if reading Pran’s thoughts, then walks past him in silence, going to throw out his ice cream stick… then pausing.
“Hey! Your trash bin is over the line!”
The first words exchanged between them in three years. Go figure. Pran turns to watch him, as Pat kicks his own family’s bin, making it shove into Pran’s, then fixing Pran with a look.
“You did it on purpose didn’t you?”
Something tells Pran that Pat is not talking about the bins. He shifts, trying to somehow look both nonchalant and tough at the same time.
“Did what?”
“There are a bunch of universities to choose from,” Pat glares and Pran scoffs again.
“You think I followed you there?” Pran kicks his own family’s bin into Pat’s.
Pat leans over, checking the bins’ position on the line, then looks back at Pran. “Is there ANYTHING we do that your family doesn’t repeat?”
He kicks his own bin back, but Pran sticks his foot out in response, and they both end up kicking their bins at the same time. They stand on one foot, glaring at each other, attempting to push the other’s bin over for several moments, annoyance growing as each struggles, until finally Pat overbalances and Pran kicks hard, knocking Pat’s bin to the ground, the contents spilling onto the street..
Pran can’t help but look at it smugly, then at Pat. “Pick it up. What a mess.”
Content with his victory, Pran turns and walks back into the house without looking back.
He can hear Pat cleaning it up though, and once out of sight of him, Pran rushes inside. He calls to his mom that he’s going to bed, and runs up to take a shower.
Fuck. FUCK.
The problem is, Pran DID notice Pat’s muscles. He DID notice the way his hair brushed the top of his fierce eyes, the slight curve of his cupid’s bow lips. He noticed and he hates himself for it.
Not again. Never again.
He comes out of the shower, mind still racing. He wraps a towel around his hips, using a second one to dry his hair, trying to think of anything else… and failing. Especially when he glances over out his window and sees Pat staring at him from his own room. Their bedroom windows face each other.
Damn it, NEVER AGAIN!!!
He glares at his neighbour, and yanks the curtains closed.
Pran doesn’t WANT these feelings coming back! Well, coming back might be the wrong word choice. They never really left, Pran just got very very good and shoving them down, pushing them into a corner of his mind to be completely ignored, to only occasionally be experienced when he’s completely alone; no witnesses, no conflict, no evidence left by morning. He survived three years like that… no, probably more. It’s actually been closer to 4, 4 years since he realised…
But now Pat is back in his life, somewhat anyway, and the memories, the feelings don’t want to stay in their secret corner. They push outwards, filling his thoughts, memories playing like video clips behind his eyes. Pran goes to his closet, taking out an old shoebox and bringing it to his bed. He takes a deep breath before opening it.
If his mom ever opened this box, she would have no idea what it meant. No one would. A bunch of old pictures, random mementos… Pran was never stupid enough to put anything in writing, and even Pat was only dumb enough to sign his name once, on something that has long since been thrown out. But the things still exist, to Pran who knows what they mean. And sitting there, on the very top, is an old black wristwatch.
For a second, he swears he can see Pat there in his room, the young round faced boy he used to be, eyes that would become fierce still softened by baby cheeks. He sees this child Pat, holding the watch out to him, and Pran can’t help but glance toward his window. His curtains are pulled, hiding Pat from view, but he knows that he’s there. Pran looks back at the watch, unable to keep the small smile from his face.
~
It may be hard to completely push his feelings away now that Pat is back, but old habits are hard to break as well. By the light of the next day, Pran is confident that he’s showing no sign of anything being different with him. He goes to campus as usual, attends class, everything normal.
Afterall, there’s no point in letting one stupid encounter ruin everything, is there?
He’s walking with his friends outside the faculty building when their classmate bounds up to them.
“Have you turned in your models?”
Pran groans along with his friends, as they look at each other. Of course not. Pran’s almost done his, but he hasn’t submitted it yet. His classmate laughs, leaving with a shake of his head.
“Wait until I finish mine!” Safe calls, as Louis just laughs.
“Sure.”
“You two can go to the canteen,” Pran tells them. “Wai and I are heading to the studio.”
Louis and Safe agree, waving and heading off. Pran nods at Wai and the two of them start walking toward the studio. They only get a few steps, however, before Wai stops him.
“Hey Pran!”
“What?”
Wai just stands with his hands in his pocket, a grin on his face, eyes shooting between Pran and a poster on the wall. Pran peers at it as Wai looks at him eagerly.
“I saw it.” Pran says, hands on his hips. “The layout isn’t so great. Some characters are floating too high.” He points at the flaws, much to Wai’s annoyance.
“Oh come on, that’s not what I want you to look at! Look here, Freshy Day 2021: The Music of Love!” Wai points at each word as he reads them, emphasising his point.
Pran rolls his eyes, laughing it off. “You know I quit playing a long time ago.” Technically, he quit before even meeting Wai, but he had told him about being in the music club and playing guitar at his first high school.
Wai faces him, leaning back against the wall with the poster. “Come on, just one last time. I know you want to!” he adds with a friendly shove.
Pran shakes his head. “Ask someone else. A lot of people can play guitar, and they’re better than me.”
Wai just rolls his eyes, pointing at his friend. “Let’s do this. I’ll go get you an application form. You can decide later, ok? I’ll go now!” He smiles and starts walking, like he’s had Pran fooled. Not for even a second.
“Hey!”
Wai stops and looks at him with a grin, as Pran points a finger in his face, trying to look serious.
“Don’t make an excuse not to work. I can go get it myself, YOU go to the studio now! Last time we went to get a coffee, that coffee took forever and we didn’t get any work done! Go wait for me at the studio, don’t slack off!”
Wai groans and rolls his eyes, but Pran gives him a shove and he starts going.
“Get that application form!”
“I will!” Pran replies. Wai grins and goes, heading in the direction of the studio.
Pran looks at the poster one more time. He really did quit playing guitar after the incident, but he can’t deny that he loves it. His life is getting on track again… it wouldn’t hurt to play one performance, would it? He heads back inside the building, toward the music room.
He’s almost there when he starts to feel the strange prickling sensation of being followed. It doesn’t make sense… who the hell would follow him here? He turns to look anyway, but sees no one, just some students heading the other way, and one guy at the water cooler. Does he know that guy? There’s something vaguely familiar about him… but really, who would follow him? He goes to walk, taking one more look back, but the guy is still just drinking water and Pran shakes his head. He’s being ridiculous. He heads toward the music room.
The room is empty, but the door was wide open so Pran is sure someone will be in soon. He sits, looking around as he waits, and it’s only been a couple minutes before he hears a voice at the door.
“Are you here for the form? Come in.”
Come in? Pran’s already inside! He stands and greets the senior coming in… and sees who he must have been talking to, entering the room behind him.
Pat walks straight in, not even glancing at Pran until he’s standing right beside him. Pran, on the other hand, watches every step, feeling slightly flustered. This is the last place he expected to run into Pat, and he turns to the senior, trying to compose himself.
“I’m here for the Freshy Music Contest application.” Pran tells him, his eyes still darting to Pat as if on their own volition. Pat is looking back at him, quirking his eyebrows, and Pran is deeply annoyed that he doesn’t understand what that facial expression means.
“Which faculty are you in?” The senior asks, and Pran and Pat both answer.
“Architecture.”
“Engineering.”
The senior looks up at both of them, then nods. “What genre do you play?”
“Pop, nothing complicated.” Pat says, as Pran sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets. He can’t let Pat fluster him like this. He pulls up his nonchalant attitude again, wearing it like a mask.
“It depends on my mood.”
“Very good. I’ll get you guys the form to fill in.” The senior goes to a filing cabinet, rummaging through a drawer. Pran focuses a little too hard on watching him; Pat is watching Pran, and Pran is determined to ignore it.
“Oh?” The senior says after a moment. “I’ve just got one left. Wait here, I’ll go make some copies. Don’t leave yet.” He heads out the door with his single sheet of paper. Pat and Pran both agree, watching him go, then turning to look at each other.
Alone in a music club room. Again. Is Pat remembering too?
Pran looks away first, brushing his hair out of his face and sitting on the closest stool. Pat, however, seems incapable of sitting still. Not surprising. He’s always been cursed with an abundance of energy, Pran thinks. He wanders a bit, ending up behind the drum set and picks up the drumsticks, tapping at the cymbals. Pran watches him, eyebrows raised. Pat really hasn’t changed at all, has he? Childish, arrogant, competitive…
As if to prove Pran’s silent point, Pat looks right at him and whacks the cymbal hard, the sound echoing in the room. Pran rolls his eyes, looking away, and he notices a guitar on the ground nearby. Well, two can play at this game. Pat sits at the drums, getting ready as Pran picks up the guitar, plucking the strings in preparation.
And just like that, it begins again. Falling into old patterns, like the steps to a dance they long since abandoned but could still perform in their sleep. No words are spoken, but the room is anything but silent as the battle picks up. Pran hasn’t played guitar in ages, but it all comes rushing back to him as he keeps up with Pat’s drumming, each trying to outdo the other, rhythms getting faster, volume increasing, both constantly glancing at each other, determined to be victorious, energy throbbing between them, filling the very air around them…
“Whoa whoa, easy guys!” The senior has returned and he’s holding up his hands, calling for peace with a laugh. Pat and Pran both stop playing, and look at him.
“Sorry, they ran out of ink. You two can make your own copy, ok?
“Sure.” Pran stands up, putting the guitar down and taking the form from the senior. “Thank you.”
He holds up his hands respectfully and heads out without waiting. If Pat wants the copy, he can catch up! Pran walks quickly and purposefully, keeping one hand in his pocket and the other on the form, heading for the student services centre, where they do things like this for students. He can tell Pat is walking just a few steps behind him, but he doesn’t pay attention. He peers through the service window for a moment until someone comes over.
“Excuse me?” Pran greets the staff member. “I need a copy of this please.”
The staff member takes the form and goes to copy it, leaving Pran to finally look around for Pat. He sees him a few metres back, by the stairs, talking on the phone. He looks frustrated about something. That makes Pran happy. Anything that causes Pat discomfort is a good thing in his mind.
The staff member comes back with his copy and an idea comes to Pran. He grins, and points to Pat.
“The copy is for him. He will pay for it, ok?”
The staff member nods, holding on to the copy, and Pran takes his and hurries away. Pat is still caught up in his phone call and probably hasn’t even noticed Pran leaving. Excellent.
Wai is at work on his model, talking with another student when Pran gets to the studio, so he drops the form off with him and heads out again, thinking of grabbing a coffee or maybe an iced tea. He’s feeling pretty good actually, enjoying that he got one over on Pat like that… or at least, was feeling good until someone suddenly kicks him from behind, sending him sprawling on the ground.
It’s a group. Pran can hear them cheering each other on obnoxiously, calling out to him to “smile for the camera!” and “get up!”
Pran does, slowly and carefully, feeling a slow rage starting to simmer. He turns to confront them and their eyes go wide, lowering the phone they were using to record him.
Engineering students.
“What the hell is this?”
The three of them hesitate, looking at each other, until the one with the ponytail, acting as a leader, shrugs it off. “Screw this, they’re friends anyway. Beat him already!”
Fuck! Pran is a good fighter… Louis hadn’t called him “Pran the Warrior” for nothing. He plays rugby, and can hold his own. But he’s also not an idiot, and this fight is three against one.
Pran defends himself against the onslaught, getting several good hits in, while keeping an eye out for an opening and as soon as het gets his chance, he’s out of there. He hears someone call for him not to run as they give chase, but he’s quick, leaping over garbage and around air con units, scrambling through the alleys behind the campus buildings, the sound of his pursuers ringing in his ears…
And suddenly Pat leaps out in front of him.
Pran stops short in surprise, but Pat raises his hands, showing his innocence. He looks around quickly, then reaches forward and grabs Pran’s arm.
“Come here!”
He yanks Pran into a small service alcove, just out of sight from the back alley they’d been in, and basically throws him against the wall, pressing against him, hand over his mouth while the other hand is pressing a finger to his own lips, shushing.
Pran struggles for a moment, freezing only as he looks out into the alley and sees the Engineering students run past, calling out for him.
They don’t see him and keep running. Pran watches until their out of sight, then his eyes go back to Pat’s.
Mistake!
Their faces are close. Very close. Pat’s fierce eyes are locked onto Pran’s face, almost as if searching, and Pran’s heart starts to pound. His hands are on Pat’s shoulders, and he can feel Pat’s warmth, the twitching of muscles, and Pran’s breath catches slightly. Oh this is bad. This is a mistake.
He shoves Pat off him before things get any worse.
“What the hell are you up to?”
Pat tsks, then peers out of the alley, checking that the coast is clear. “Get out of there.” He hits Pran’s arm and leaves the alcove. Pran obeys, and they both look in the direction the attackers went.
“What the hell is this shit?” Pran tries again as Pat is jogging forward. A silver van pulls up, blocking the exit of the alley and Pat turns back to him, gesturing for him to follow.
“Come with me!”
Pran hesitates, as the window of the van rolls down. A girl’s voice calls out. “Pat, get in!”
It’s Pa, Pat’s sister. Pran looks at her in surprise, brain racing to try and figure out what’s going on, as Pat groans and comes back, grabbing Pran’s arm again.
“Hurry up!”
“What??” Pran yanks his arm away, but Pat grabs him again, pulling him along.
“Get in the car!”
“Quickly!” Pa adds as Pat bustles Pran to the van, sliding the door open and shoving him in before hoping in behind him.
“Go go go!” Pat calls to Pa, and she hits the gas, getting them out of there.
Pran looks back and forth between Pat and his sister as they drive, feeling more confused than ever. The threat from the other students has faded though, and with it, Pran’s anger rises. Why is Pat helping him?? Why can’t he just leave him alone?!
Pa drives around to the front of campus, and Pran suddenly wants nothing more than to get far away from the both of them.
“Pa, pull over. Drop me off here.” She does, and Pran glares at Pat. “You, get out.”
Pat opens the door and climbs out, allowing Pran to scramble from the van. He looks at Pat, then starts walking away without another word. But Pat doesn’t seem eager to let him go that easily.
“Hold on!”
Pran turns and sees Pat reaching into the car for something. He emerges again with a white shirt, which he tosses to Pran.
“Here. Change first, so you don’t have to tell your mom what happened. Otherwise, she’s going to blame it on me.”
There is some truth to that. Pran looks at the shirt and jerks his head, then starts walking again. He just can’t bring himself to let words of thanks actually out of his mouth… and Pat clearly notices.
“How about a ‘thank you’, jackass?” Pat calls after him, but Pran doesn’t even turn around as he yells back.
“Did I ask for your help, asshole?”
He continues storming off as fast as he can, vaguely aware of Pat and Pa talking behind him, but he can’t make out their words. He’s not even sure why Pa was there… but he can guess why she wanted to help him. He never knew her that well, but she always seemed sweet… other than the fact that she was so close with Pat. Poor girl, stuck with him as a brother. Really, unlucky to be born into that family at all. There was one time, they were all kids, and Pran was riding his bike to the river. He ran into Pat and Pa there, and of course, got into an argument with Pat immediately. Pa had wandered off. Pran never knew if she was trying to swim, or if she fell in, but somehow she started struggling in the water, calling for help. Pran had noticed before Pat, and rushed in, diving into the water and pulling her out.
She had been kind to him ever since. It was also the day… the first time… when something shifted between Pran and Pat. The first time their relationship stopped being black and white enemies.
Pat had climbed through Pran’s window that night for the first time. He was returning the watch that had fallen off Pran’s wrist by the river.
Pran doesn’t go back to Wai in the studio. He messages him that something came up at home, and Wai should just submit their work when he’s done. It’s not exactly fair, but Pran will make it up to him. He’s responsible that way.
He goes home, and tries hard to put all thoughts of Pat out of his mind. He sits on his bed, paper in hand, attempting to study. It’s not going well. His mind refuses to focus. He tries again and again, picking up the papers, picking up his highlighter, but nothing happens.
Is that a tap on his window?
No way.
Pran hasn’t heard that sound in 3 years. He puts down his paper and highlighter, looking curiously at the curtain and getting up slowly to check. He fixes his shirt, walking cautiously over, not sure what he wants the result to be.
He opens the curtain and sees… nothing.
Pat’s window across the way is dark as well, the room looking empty. Pran scans the area, peering around, but seeing nothing. Ok, he was definitely imagining it. He’d just been thinking of that first time Pat had climbed in, and it made him hear things.
He turns to go back to sit on his bed, but has only taken two steps when something creaks, and a hand slaps his arm from behind.
Pran spins, mouth opening to yell in surprise, and for the second time today, Pat slaps his hand over Pran’s mouth, while holding his own finger up, shushing him. Pran struggles immediately, trying to pull Pat’s hand from his face. Seriously, he got so strong! Pat’s grip on Pran’s face is firm, as he hisses softly.
“I come in peace! Shhh!”
“Pran? What’s that noise?” Mom calls from downstairs, and Pran’s stomach clenches slightly. Pat drops his hand from Pran’s face as he spins in the direction of the noise, then looks back at Pat with a glare.
“Nothing, Mom! I just dropped something.” He looks at Pat, brows furrowed in annoyance, as Pat smirks and sits down on Pran’s bed, shaking his hair out of his face. Pran’s eyes go wide… how dare he just sit and make himself at home?? But he grits his teeth and shuffles slightly away, sitting down as far from Pat as it is possible to be while still on the same bed. He looks away, taking a deep breath, as Pat turns to him.
“I came to talk about that friend of yours. Can you just stop protecting him?”
Pran raises his eyebrows. “Can you stop chasing him?”
“Is it so hard to understand?”
“Yes. It is!” Pran retorts. “And I don’t want to talk to you. Get out of my room.” He points at the window.
Pat clicks his tongue, looking away in frustration before looking back at him. “Pran… I came because I don’t want to fight you. Don’t you get it?”
Pran just stares at him. There is more to it than this. Pat would never turn down a fight, not with him. He waits, and finally Pat sighs, confirming Pran’s instinct.
“Not just me, actually. It’s Pa that’s asking.”
Nailed it. Pran leans back, looking away. Pa. Obviously. He takes a deep breath, looking back at Pat as he continues.
“But I have to finish this conflict. No matter what. Can you just back off?”
Pran exhales, shaking his head. “I can’t do that. Those guys are friends from my faculty. And Wai has been my close friend since before I transferred here. I can’t just back off for you.”
Pat shakes his head, but an idea has come to Pran, and he peers at Pat.
“Unless… you back off too.”
Pat furrows his brow. “How?”
“You want to save your reputation, right? And I want to save Wai from getting beaten up. If Wai apologises to you in front of everyone, will you leave him alone?”
Pat scoffs. “If he wanted to do that, he would have done so a long time ago.”
“What if I can make him do it?” Pran cocks his head. He can already see it playing out perfectly in his mind.
Pat studies him, clearly thinking about it. They look at each other, Pran trying to ignore the beating of his heart, then Pat smirks and holds out his fist.
“Deal.”
Pran stares at it for a moment. Pat wants to… fist bump? Feeling slightly awkward, but can’t think of a reason to refuse, Pran raises his own fist and hesitatingly taps Pat’s with it. Deal.
~
The two groups meet the next day, facing off behind a faculty building, just as Pat and Pran planned it. As the respective heads of their classes, Pat and Pran are naturally front and centre; no one questions either of them doing the speaking for their groups. Almost all the boys from first year Architecture are there, and it must be the same for Engineering… the groups are bigger than expected, but Pran feels confident that they are ready. He stands in front of Pat with his arms crossed, staring him down. Pat has his hands on his hips, looking tough.
“Send him over, and everyone else won’t get hurt.” Pat announces loud enough for everyone to hear.
Pran looks at Wai, then back at Pat. “I can’t.”
“He insulted me.” Pat replies, still loud and clear. “I won’t leave until I get what I want.”
Pran sighs and drops his arms, pretending to consider. Just like he told Pat. He can do this. “As the class president, I’ll take responsibility.” He raises his voice now, making sure everyone can hear him. “We, Architecture students, take responsibility for what we do! I am sorry. I am sorry he gave you the finger.”
Wai is shaking his head, exasperated, just as Pran knew he would.
“Hey, don’t apologise for me!” Wai calls out, almost word for word what Pran predicted. “I was wrong and I’ll apologise to him myself.”
Pran looks back at Pat, unable to keep the slight smug look from his face. Pat offers him the slightest of nods before they both look at Wai.
Wai sighs and takes a deep breath, before forcing out what seems like painful words. “I’m sorry.”
Pran looks back to Pat. They did it. Pat winks at him and Pran offers a small smile. They pulled it off!
Or so it seems, for one brief second, until the ponytailed Engineering student who led the charge against Pran yesterday shouts out.
“If you think you can end this with a sorry, you’re wrong! Get them!!”
Pat and Pran both spin in shock, looking aghast as the fight erupts around them, both sides charging at each other in fury. This is not what they expected!!!
The ponytailed Engineering student dives at Pran, who springs aside at the same time as Pat dives in front, blocking the punch.
“I’m the only one who can hit him!” Pat roars at his friend, who looks ready to argue until another student grabs him from behind, and he spins to take on the new fighter.
Pat hops back to Pran, raising his fists as if about to start a boxing match. “Hit me!”
“Huh??” Pran stares at him.
“Punch me!” Pat repeats, gesturing at his cheek. Pran gets it and punches at the air beside Pat’s face. Pat calls out in pretend pain, ducking aside as if hit. Pat stands up and swings at the air by Pran, who holds up his arms to block. The fight around them is real and vicious, and Pat and Pran continue miming, hoping it looks real, until one of Pran’s kicks accidentally lands and Pat yells in pain.
“Sorry, sorry!!” Pran hisses, holding up his hands, and motioning for Pat to keep going. Pat shakes it off and continues the mime, but he accidentally lands a punch on Pran’s shoulder, making him wince. Pat hisses an apology, holding Pran’s shoulder sympathetically while pretending to be kicking him.
It continues on, until suddenly an Architecture student gets shoved into a wall, his head hitting the fire alarm. The clanging sound jolts both groups out of it, and they scatter, fleeing the scene. The last thing they need is to be caught in an all out brawl like this!
Pran runs through the building to the inner courtyard, and realises that he went a different way than his friends. He looks behind him, checking if he’s alone, and ends up running right into someone. He spins with a raised fist, and sees Pat, holding up his hands to stop him.
Pran drops his fist and swears, walking a few steps away in frustration before spinning back on Pat.
“What’s wrong with your friends?!”
“They’re as bad as yours!” Pat replies as they both drop down to sit on the step. The courtyard is empty except for the two of them. They look at each other, and Pat looks away, shaking his head. Pran sighs in frustration, looking away as well. Of course some shit like this would happen. Pat is involved. That always means bad.
“Things don’t end well whenever I’m close to you,” Pran grumbles, and Pat smirks.
“At least no one got transferred somewhere else this time.”
Pran turns slowly to look at Pat. Is he seriously trying to make light of the incident?? Pat just looks back at him, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-hearted attempt to smile. Maybe he’s just trying to acknowledge it, this big ugly thing from their history, still present in the middle of their every interaction. Pran looks away, and so does Pat, dropping it. They both scan the courtyard, checking for any other fights, anyone getting followed, really any fall out. They see nothing.
“So it’s over now?” Pran says quietly.
Pat nods. “I guess so. He apologised. We threw some punches. I call it even now.” He holds up his fist for Pran to bump. Pran sighs and raises his fist, but their agreement is interrupted.
“This is not over!” A professor has come out of the building and is eyeing them angrily. Pat and Pran rise quickly, holding up their hands respectfully, then Pran looks at Pat. Shit. See, this is what he meant, nothing ever ends well when Pat is involved!
They follow the professor to his office, where he sits behind his desk and stares at them. They both try their best to look contrite.
“You’re lucky no one got hurt badly this time,” the professor tells them. “So I won’t report this to the university board. BUT… I hope this is the last time you fight. If I see any more quarrels from you, I’ll ban BOTH faculties from joining any university activity together!”
~
With no afternoon classes, and the professor’s threat hanging over his head, Pran decides to move into his dorm that day instead of tomorrow as planned. His stuff was already packed up, and it takes only one trip in his mom’s car to move it all in. He spends the rest of the day unpacking and decorating. He never feels comfortable anywhere until he’s made a space his own, especially with his trademark happy faces around. He has liked them since he was a kid… something about being surrounded by the pleasantness of smiles just makes him feel more content, more comfortable. He even remembers one time in high school, drawing a happy face on a ball in his bedroom, while Pat was air drumming in his own room… Pran could see him from the window, and couldn’t help watching, feeling annoyed… or something anyway. Pat spotted him watching and closed the window blinds, which Pran responded to by yanking his own curtains closed.
The memory annoys him. Looking around his new dorm and feeling like it’s finally looking like home, Pran nods, then brings up a hand to his sore shoulder. It throbs slightly from Pat’s accidental hit. He doesn’t have any medicine here, of course, having just moved in, but he remembers seeing a pharmacy just around the corner and he heads there now.
He buys the tube of medicine and is loitering by the door, debating buying a drink while he’s here, when Pat walks in. Pran turns so Pat doesn’t see him, keeping his face hidden as Pat approaches the counter. He hears him asking the pharmacist for the same cream that Pran just bought, and the pharmacist tells him that he just sold the last one. Sighing, Pran slips through the door before Pat sees that it’s him, then settles himself on the steps, waiting.
It’s only a few moments later when Pat comes out and walks right past him again. Pran could easily let him go. He wouldn’t even know that Pran had been here. All he has to do is stay quiet.
“Where are you going?” Pran says instead. Pat turns to see him, putting his hands on his hips as he realises that Pran is holding the medicine that he wants.
“To get some medicine. Or are you going to sell that to me?”
Pran puts some on his finger, enough for his bruised shoulder, then holds out the tube to Pat, who sighs and looks around, before grabbing it from him and sitting on the step beside Pran. He opens the tube as Pran applies the cream to his shoulder, then turns to Pran.
“Hey, I offered you this cheek, but you punched me on this cheek!” He points to illustrate his words. Pran stays silent, rubbing his lotion on. He hadn’t meant to hit Pat’s cheek at all, but he can see the red mark on his cheekbone. Pat can’t quite seem to find it though, as he uses his finger to try and locate it. Pran shakes his head and Pat sighs, leaning his face toward Pran expectantly.
Pran just looks at him. “In your dreams.”
Pat rolls his eyes. “I just want you to point where the bruise is.”
Pran rolls his eyes in return, then reaches over and uses his thumb to firmly press Pat’s bruise. Pat hisses in pain, pulling back. He puts the cream on though, and they sit in silence for a bit, looking out into the street.
“What are we going to do about what the professor said?” Pran asks after a bit.
“Will our friends live together in peace if they learn about it?” Pat replies, and Pran scoffs.
“They will. But after some drinks, they will fight again anyway.”
Pat chuckles and shakes his head. “If we’re banned, I won’t get to join the music contest with you. It’ll be such a shame if I don’t get to compete against you.”
Pran doesn’t know how to take that. “How about we just avoid each other for now?” he suggests instead.
“You’re talking like I know where you go each day.”
Pran shrugs. “Take my chat ID.”
Pat stares at him. “What??”
Pran offers him a half smile. “So you can stop sneaking into my room.”
Pat stares at him, clearly in shock, then finally nods and pulls his phone out of his pocket. Pran grabs his out as well, holding it out for Pat to scan to get his ID. Pat opens his app and holds his phone toward Pran’s… then stops and pulls it back.
Pran looks at him. “What now?”
“It’s like I’m adding you to my friend list.”
“..............so?”
“So?” Pat shoots back, “Why do I have to be the one doing it?”
Pran rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Don’t be stupid.”
“You add my ID then!” Pat holds out his phone for Pran to scan. Pran looks at it… but he can’t do it now. Not now that Pat brought it up as a contest. He pulls his phone away, shaking his head. Pat scoffs.
“Let’s just…” Pran thinks. “...search for each other’s IDs and add them at the same time. Ok?”
Pat thinks for a moment, then agrees. They both open their apps to search.
“Por.pran” Pran tells Pat, who hesitates than says quickly.
“Patlnwza55+”
Pran laughs. Seriously? It sounds like a middle schooler’s ID!
“What are you laughing at?” Pat glares.
“You’re such a kid.” Pran tell him, and Pat shakes his head. “Ready?”
Pat nods and Pran counts. “1… 2… 3!” He moves his thumb but doesn’t hit the button. Pat does though, and the sound rings out between them.
“Hey!” Pran is trying not to laugh. “Someone just added me to his friend list!”
Pat grimaces at him. “You’re happy now?”
Pran just grins, still holding out his phone, showing Pat his victory. Pat sighs and slaps the medicated lotion back on the step between them.
“I better go get some ice cream.” He stands up and walks off. Pran knows he shouldn’t, but he watches him walk away anyway, allowing himself to feel warm inside for just a moment, until his sense returns in full.
Never again.
Pran looks down at his phone, where his new contact has been added. He clicks on the icon to change the name, and types in ‘just a friend’. Can’t risk having Pat’s name in his phone. Can’t risk forgetting.
But that night, he pulls the old watch out, having moved it with him to his dorm. He checks the battery, then sets the time and puts it on his wrist. He looks at it, then at his sticky notes, the ones he bought special. They have happy faces on them, the main thing that drew him to them, but something else too, more unique. If he turns them upside down, there is a frowning face instead of a happy one, and the box poses the question, “How are you feeling today?”
Pran picks one out, looking at the frown. This is exactly how he SHOULD be feeling, how he should feel letting Pat back into his life. He should hate him. He should feel angry and upset and want to stay far away from him. And yet… Pran flips it the other way, making a happy face instead, and smiles before sticking it to his monitor.
Pat is a lot of things. Pran’s mom calls him a big cheater. Pran’s friends call him a bully. But Pran looks at him, and sees fierce eyes… and the big kid behind them, the same one who went through the same childhood pressure that Pran did, to become the man now who has no reason to approach Pran, no reason to help him, yet he does anyway.
Enemies, yes. But nothing is ever black and white between the two of them. And Pran’s little bubble of happiness, the same feelings he’s been avoiding since Grade 10 aren’t going anywhere. They don’t matter anyway. They mean nothing. Pran can feel them from afar and no one has to know.
He smiles at the sticky note one last time, then opens his sketch book. Some drawing before bed will help him relax.