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Here's the irrevocable truth:
They've won. They've actually, veritably won.
Their sweat and blood, and sometimes nothing but phantom desperation and determination has shaped itself into a completely intangible thing called 'victory' and has permeated into every nook and crevice of the world around them.
They've won.
Here's the truth that is extremely hard for Pang to fathom that he has been existing in for over a few days now:
They've won.
There's a voice inside his head telling him that all of this is a mere illusion; his actual reality is still muddled in layers of inequality instead of the palpable reality that he is currently living in.
There is no need for him to look over his shoulder every step of the way, no need for him to drown in nights where sleep always seems a blink away, no need for him to think twice before he lets joy consume him whole.
There is no need for any of that.
They've won and Pang feels as though this is a simulation where nothing is as it is, as he has known, and that the Director is up there, superimposing his present, past, and his future, laughing at what a fool he was to have ever believed that he's won.
But they have, is the thing.
He's reminded that they have by the way Wave smiles, looking more relaxed than Pang has ever seen him, by how Ohm's eyes twinkle, the way they always did before all this, by how all his friends -- his family, really -- find their way to each other, their way around each other, a bond created by the constraints of dictatorial power -- something so strong that nothing could've been able to get through it.
None of it explains why Pang feels this hollow chamber inside his chest where that fire of changing something used to be.
Someone knocks against his shoulders, snapping him out of the syrupy reverie he finds himself in on most days.
"You can't believe it, huh?"
Pang blinks slowly, taking a deep breath before putting on a smile and turning towards P'Chanon.
"How did you know?" Pang asks, ignoring the loud cry that Ohm gives out as Namtarn smears the icing on his face.
P'Chanon shrugs. "I can't believe it either," he says.
Pang presses his lips together, swallowing.
"Everything we fought for is over," Pang replies.
"It is," P'Chanon says, leaning against the table.
"I didn't have a purpose before this," Pang says. "And then there was this. And now there's nothing."
Pang never did think of a future for him, he realises. It's as though he lived his life with a neon sticker on his forehead, relaying to everyone who he was and moulded exactly to fit that. First, there was the stupid kid, then there was the stupid kid who was smart enough to get into Rithda, then there was the stupid Class 8 kid, then there was the lucky Class 8 Gifted kid, then it was Class 8 Kid but as a leader, after which he became the kid who was completely idealistic, and then the kid who finally succumbed to the Director.
The reality of this has ripped the neon sign off his forehead, leaving him floundering for a person to be.
"Oh, Pang," P'Chanon says, his voice incredibly gentle. "Pang, I know exactly what you mean. You feel lost again."
"I am nothing without this," Pang says, even though a voice in his head that sounds a little too much like Wave disagrees. "I don't-- what am I supposed to do?" His voice comes out broken around the edges, firmed only with the number of times he's asked his reflection.
"Pang," P'Chanon says, bumping their shoulders together again. "You find a new purpose."
"You say as though it's easy."
"It's not," P'Chanon says, his voice firm. "It really is not. I have been in your position before, Pang. I am in your position now."
Pang turns to look at P'Chanon, who looks straight ahead, his jaw clenched.
"I didn't know who I was," he says in a whisper. "For the longest time, I was a shadow of who I wanted to be. And then I remembered. So there was my purpose again-- defeating Supot. And then I was mind-controlled, of course. So there was my purpose again-- defeating Pom. And then there was nothing. Just a void in front of me."
"How did you find your purpose again?" Pang whispers.
P'Chanon nods his head -- that is when Pang realises that P'Chanon had been looking at Khu Pom all along -- and he hears P'Chanon give out a sigh. "I had some help," he says.
"And now?" Pang asks.
P'Chanon nods at Khu Pom again, who is currently doing his absolute best to stop Jack and Joe from fighting over something.
"I'll figure it out," he says with a small smile. "As will you, Pang," P'Chanon pats his shoulder. "We have all the time in the world."
"I'm so exhausted," Pang whispers.
P'Chanon's face turns soft. "You've fought for the generations before you and the generations that will follow. Rest now, Pang. You will find a purpose again."
P'Chanon looks ahead, and this time, Khu Pom looks back, smiling at P'Chanon.
Pang feels as though he's intruding on something extremely personal. "I know that I've found mine," P'Chanon says.
"Khu Pom?" Pang asks before he can stop himself.
P'Chanon shakes his head. "Doing right by the ones I love."
"You're going to be okay, Pang," P'Chanon says, giving him a final pat on the back and walks towards where Khu Pom stands with a smile Pang has never seen on him.
Pang stands there, warmed by P'Chanon's words and uncertain, just the same.
***
It was so sudden, is the thing.
Pang had been fully prepared to work for the Director in case it all failed. He always assumed that he would die trying to rid the clutches he held everyone in.
But one moment, there was all hope lost and the next, the Director was gone for good and the world resumed turning around its axis with everyone in tow.
Everyone but Pang.
It is the middle of the night when Pang hears frantic knocking on his door and for one horrible, horrible moment, he thinks that it's the Director.
His stomach swoops at the sight of Wave on the other side of it.
"Here," he says, holding out a bag. "You didn't eat much."
Pang looks at Wave in awe. "You brought food for me?"
"Don't make it weird," Wave mumbles. "Just eat something, okay?"
Pang takes the bag out of his hands, warmth blooming at where their fingers touch. "Do you want to come in?"
"Obviously," Wave says and pushes past him inside the room.
"You didn't have to bring me food," Pang says, pulling the chair out for Wave to sit in.
He is about to bring himself a plate when Wave tugs at his wrist. "Sit."
"Wave…"
"Sit," Wave says. "Just sit, okay? You look like you're going to fall dead at any moment."
Pang stands there, flummoxed when Wave moves around his room as though it's his own. He brings out two plates and two glasses and starts serving him the noodles, swatting at Pang's attempt to help.
"Do you think that you're invisible somehow?" Wave mutters. "I see you, Pang. Do you think that I haven't noticed the change in you?"
"What change?" Pang asks, digging into his noodles.
"You really think I'm stupid, huh?"
Pang looks up, not knowing how to reply to that. Wave sighs, pushing forward his plate to serve him more noodles. "I care for you," he grits out. "I care for you," he repeats, gentler this time. "You were so full of hope before the final video," Wave says. "And then, you came out of the room as though you'd lost a war. And today, at the party, you didn't talk to anyone."
Guilt curdles in Pang's stomach. "I'm sorry--"
"No!" Wave exclaims. "None of that, Pang. I am just letting you know that I see you and that I-- that I'm here for you, whenever you want. In any form you want me."
Pang looks up, startled. In his yellow-hued room, Wave looks a whole lot pink. "Not in that way," Wave says hurriedly. "But I'm here for you. So just-- yeah."
"I care for you too," Pang says, carefully putting his hand over Wave's. "And thank you, I appreciate you."
Wave looks at him once before looking back at his noodles again and makes no move to remove his hand from under Pang's. "Good," he says, his voice hoarse.
"Good," Pang replies, feeling lighter than he had all week.
***
Here is the truth, no matter how Pang sees it:
Pang is in love with Wave.
He does not really know when exactly the process of falling in love happened. He just knows that one day he woke up and all of a sudden, his eyes involuntarily found Wave's. The world slowed down whenever Wave was in his vicinity and for some unfathomable reason, Wave was suddenly in everything he saw and did.
Claire had once snickered when she'd found him staring at Wave and that's when he realised what the clamminess of his palms and the fastening of his heart beat meant.
He is in love with Wave.
This absolute truth is the one thing he does not find himself bending around, no matter what. The truth only glows brighter every day he spends with Wave, tinting all his surroundings with the pink that doesn't leave him even when Wave isn't around.
There is no-one who understands him the way Wave does.
Case in point: the reality unfolding itself in the way Wave lies beside him, holding one earbud out for Pang as he loads up a meticulously curated playlist.
Pang gingerly takes the earbud from him and settles easily on the cold floor underneath them.
"You can talk to me about anything, you know that right?" Wave says, somewhere in the middle of the fifth song.
I love you, Pang thinks. "I know," Pang says.
"I don't know what's bothering you and I want to be there for you," Wave says.
I love you so much, Pang thinks. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do after this," Pang says.
He feels Wave moving closer to him. "What do you mean?" Wave frowns.
"I don't know what I wanted before this and I don't know what I want now," Pang admits.
"You're Pang," Wave says, as the music shuts down. "You'll figure it out."
The lull of the darkness around him makes it safer for him to say, "I don't know who I am supposed to be now."
"You don't need to be anybody," Wave says, causing Pang to turn towards him. Always turning towards him. "You're Pang," Wave says, his voice a whisper.
Who is that person, Pang wants to ask. There's a certain kind of surety behind Wave's words. The surety whose entire weight Pang doesn't think he can carry.
"You're Pang," Wave whispers. "That's all you need to be," he says.
I'm Pang, Pang thinks, and lets the golden of the words settle beneath his skin, as though merely being Pang is enough.
He looks at the dead-set certainty veiled behind Wave's eyes and thinks that perhaps it is.
"Why did you go against the Director?" Wave asks.
"You know why," Pang replies.
"No, say it."
"Because he was causing harm to everyone."
"And what made you want to stop him?"
"Because it wasn't fair."
"Why did you care?"
"Because I wanted to make this world a better place!" Pang exclaims, unbidden and then breathes a sigh of relief. "I want to make this world a better place," he whispers.
The corner of Wave's mouth lifts up. "There you go."
I love you, Pang thinks.
"I hope you have a seat beside you as you make your way in this world," Wave says, a bit hesitant.
"For you, Wave? Always."
Wave looks at him in surprise.
Pang reaches across to cup their hands together, again. "We're going to find our way in this world together, I think."
"Together," Wave repeats, still wide-eyed.
"Together," Pang confirms, feeling hope bloom behind his ribs.
***
It takes some getting used to, but Pang gets there.
The hallways of Rithda feel painted over, without the lingering anxiety of being surveilled by the Director all the time. There are bad days, and there are the exceptionally good ones, but the words, "We've won, we've won, we've won, we've won," keep ringing all the same.
The hollow chamber in Pang's chest blooms with every possibility he can ever think of once it sinks into him that they are, in fact, free. Pang thinks of his life beyond this point in the present and thinks of a world waiting for him, in all the ways he's ever dreamt of.
The lingering days of Rithda are moulded carefully by the smiles on his friends' face, by how Wave's hand slots so perfectly into Pang's, by the promise of never parting even after they've graduated, by Pang's saying I love you out loud to Wave on their rooftop and Wave's equally dumb-struck declaration of reciprocated love, by the sturdy purpose of wanting to do good around him, and by the hope of a better future in his chest so bright that it spills through the gaps between his fingers.
The future will unfold itself the way it has to. For now, Pang looks over the room full of his favourite people and feels nothing short of home.