Work Text:
When Wave walked into Pang’s room at the end of the day, he knew exactly what he would find. The room was dimly lit, with faint light bleeding in from the window. The bed where Pang was sprawled out on his front, taking up more than half of the space, was diffused in a soft glow. This was a familiar sight for Wave at the end of a day of defeat, of setbacks, of days where their fight seemed endless and daunting. Pang’s face was squashed into his pillow, cheeks bunched up, lips pouting and brow furrowed. Wave was totally unaffected.
“Hey,” Wave said to the unmoving figure on the bed as he placed his jacket on the back of Pang’s desk chair, “have you started the homework from today?”
“No,” the unmoving figure on the bed responded, “it’s not due till next week Wave, I’m not a maniac.”
“I finished it before coming here.”
“Point made.”
Wave sighed and turned to glance at Pang, who looked so entirely still that it was like he’d never spoken at all. Wave debated, started to move, then stopped to debate further. Would it be weird?…It would be weird…
One step, then another, then suddenly Wave was sat on the small strip of mattress not occupied by Pang’s long limbs. He lay down, head meeting Pang’s soft pillow with a soft thump as he placed his arms on his chest and made sure he wasn’t touching any part of Pang’s body with his own. This isn’t weird, right? They’ve never done this before, Wave’s never done this before, maybe—
“Why are you lying like a vampire in its coffin?”
“I’m not!” Wave moved an arm slightly lower as if to prove he wasn’t mimicking the undead. He stared stubbornly at the ceiling for one beat, two, before giving in and glancing at Pang out of the corner of his eye. Does he think it’s weird?
The pout was gone, and in its place was a small smile. A dimple hinted at its presence on the curve of Pang’s cheek not currently pressed into his pillow. Wave felt the corner of his own mouth threaten to curve. Unacceptable. He resumed staring at Pang’s ceiling.
“How cute of you.”
Wave’s eyes were back on Pang in an instant, his brow furrowed and indignant. “Hey!”
Now Pang’s smile was out in full, blinding, all consuming force. Laughter creased the corners of his eyes and deepened his dimples. Wave was somewhat convinced that Pang possessed an equally powerful and more troublesome potential wherein his smile caused anyone in his vicinity to smile back, whether they wanted to or not. Wave could feel it taking effect.
“Hey! Are you laughing at me?” Wave was trying to be accusatory but he couldn’t hide the smile that was spreading over his entire face. “That’s it, I’m leaving.”
“No!” Before Wave could so much as pretend that he was actually about to get off the bed, Pang whined at him and an arm shot out from where it had been lying peacefully on the mattress to lay across his chest.
Wave froze.
Pang shuffled closer, the arm laying on top of Wave’s chest a solid weight atop his pounding heart. A head came to rest gently against the tip of Wave’s shoulder.
He couldn’t breathe.
“Don’t go.” The pout was back and angled up at him from his own shoulder, but the matching expression in Pang’s eyes wasn’t despair, frustration, hopelessness as it had been when Wave first entered the room. It was pure mirth.
“Now who’s acting cute?” Wave scoffed, clearing his throat. The ceiling was tempting his gaze again.
He felt more than heard Pang’s soft laugh, his breath rustling the shoulder of his shirt.
Silence fell around them like a soft blanket as it often did when they spent time alone in each other’s company. When he first became close friends with Pang, Wave analysed and overanalysed this like it was a software bug. Are friends supposed to be silent with each other? Aren’t they supposed to always be laughing and joking and talking? Was he doing this wrong?
After some internet searching, he realised it was normal, a different type of friendship from that which he had observed throughout his life. Reading through the articles on the web and seeing words such as companionship, comfort, trust frequent the pages made him warm from the inside out. So he began to treasure these moments as much as he did the times where he made Pang laugh, where Pang animatedly described a TV show he’d seen, where they yelled over a video-game together. And silence was much needed when they were part of such a boisterous and energetic group of friends.
Lying on the bed in near darkness, Wave slowly raised a hand until it was resting on the warmth of Pang’s forearm. He gave it a gentle squeeze and didn’t let go.
Pang made a small noise between a sigh and a hiccup. Maybe he was ready to talk about today?
“Everything’s going to be okay, y’know,” Wave began, “I know today makes it seem like this is going to go on forever, that we’re going to keep going around in circles, but it won’t always be like this. After a few days, we can mobilise again and come up with another plan. I really believe we can do it.”
Pang raised his head, propping himself up to watch Wave as he spoke. Wave hardly noticed, gaze intent on the murky black ceiling. If he looked at Pang now he’d never be able to say what he wanted to.
“We have a great team, with a great leader. He’s kind and smart and loyal. Dedicated and capable. I trust him entirely. He didn’t ask to be a leader, especially not to such a bunch of pain-in-the-asses that make up the Gifted Class, but we couldn’t have asked for anyone better. I’m thankful for him everyday. I’m thankful that he never gives up on what he believes in, that he never gives up on us. I’m thankful that he never gave up on me. I’m thankful that he’s my frie—”
Pang kissed him.
Hard.
Wave missed the signs it was about to happen, but it went like this:
Pang smiled gently as Wave began a giving him a pep-talk, he was getting pretty fond of doing that these days. Channeling the passion he used to burn through anger and frustration into words of encouragement that Pang would hate to admit he replays in his head during the toughest hours, minutes, seconds.
Propping himself up on the arm not resting across Wave’s chest, Pang wanted to watch Wave as he spoke. The dim light filtering in from the window was now mostly blocked by Pang’s head, but he could see Wave’s features well up close. The way his fringe fell against his forehead. His glasses. The soft curve of his jaw that moved rapidly as he spoke.
He was speaking about Pang. Pang was a common feature in Wave’s pep-talks, seeing as they were mostly always aimed at him, however, this was the first time he had mentioned Pang so directly, so fondly, with such a soft smile pulling at the corners of his lips.
Pang had to stop getting his hopes up.
Except Wave’s heart was beating wildly. Pang could feel it beneath his wrist.
It had been beating fast when he had first thrown his arm across Wave, and Pang had assumed it had been in response to getting teased.
Wave has always been hot-headed.
But now, after Wave’s heartbeat had slowed in the silence they had let settle between them, here it was again. Thundering.
As he talked about Pang.
About how he was kind and smart, how he trusted him, how he was thankful for him.
Pang is known for putting himself out there, making himself seen. He’s not one to shy away from what he wants, what he believes in.
And he wants. So he moves.
Pang leans over and cuts Wave off mid-sentence, their lips pressed together slightly too far off-centre, the darkness and Pang’s enthusiasm throwing off his aim.
He kisses him firmly, with intent, with feeling. He’s not about to put their friendship on the line with a half-assed brush of their lips.
Wave, to put it lightly, is stunned.
When Pang pulls back, his face comes rushing into focus through the cacophony of thoughts rushing through Wave’s mind. Despite the mess going on in his brain, Wave can’t string together a single coherent sentence besides Pang kissed me, Pang kissed me, Pang kissed me.
He didn’t research this scenario.
“I— uh…” Wave’s mouth is moving but words still fail him.
“I like you, Wave.” Pang is gazing down at him with steely determination, the expression he usually wears when they’re about to throw themselves into something dangerous.
Oh.
Wave wants to kiss him again.
He reaches out with the hand not currently holding Pang’s arm in a death grip to graze his fingers along his his cheek, his ear. Like he’s wanted to for months. Wave slides his fingers into Pang’s hair, presses his fingertips against the back of his head to pull him back down, bring him closer. Like he’s wanted to for months. This time their lips meet properly, because Wave’s a bit better at calculating distance than Pang is, and Wave kisses him. Like he’s wanted to for months.
Oh.
Wave is good at analysing everything, including himself, so he knew. He knew that the way he felt about Pang was different than the way he felt about their other friends. He understood that he felt attraction for other boys, as well as girls. He had organised and categorised and self-analysed all his feelings into tidy boxes. Except the overflowing box with Pang’s name had been neatly stored far back in his mind, labelled with phrases like he doesn’t think of you that way, idiot and don’t risk losing the first real friendship you’ve ever had with stupid feelings.
Until now, because Pang had just dragged the box out from its hiding place and dumped the contents all over the floor. He was pulling away from the kiss with a smirk, removing Wave’s glasses, kissing him again. He was offering everything Wave had secretly wanted for months, and Wave was nothing if not selfish.
“I like you too, Pang,” he murmured into the kiss.
Pang was smiling, Wave could feel it. He was smiling too. Hopefully Pang could feel it. This moment was meant to be savoured, he wanted to relish in the feeling of being liked, of being wanted, of having the guy he likes’ lips pressed against his. Tomorrow, the next day and every day after that he will cherish being with Pang. He’ll tell Pang how long he’s had these feelings for, and hear his story in return. He’ll take Pang out for dinner; Pang will treat him to lunch. They’ll tell their friends and they’ll be happy for them. They’ll revolutionise the school hand-in-hand. But for now, Wave wants to savour the simple relief of having told Pang how he feels.
“Awesome.”
“Awesome? That’s all you have to say?”
“I think I’ve said quite a lot already, don’t you?”
Wave rolled his eyes.
“Are you blushing?”
“No!”
“You are!”
“You can’t tell, it’s dark in here.”
“Well let me turn on the light and then we’ll see.”
“Do it then.”
“Well, you’d have to let go of me first, Wave. Your hand is trying to permanently seal itself to my arm. Who knew you’d be so affectionate?”
“Shut the fuck up, Pang.”
“Make me.”
He did.