Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pran had been home for two months when he walked into his room to see Pat laying on his bed.

"What," he hissed, hurriedly closing the door behind him, "are you doing?" 

It wasn't even a casual pose, like Pat had just been in here for some reason and happened to sit down on the bed. He was sprawled out on the blanket and had clearly just been sleeping, judging by the dazed look on his face as he blinked up at Pran. And then he kept looking up at Pran, apparently not feeling any need to actually respond.

"Hey!" Pran stepped towards the bed, waving a hand in Pat's eye line. "What if my mom had seen you, huh?"

"Your mom?" Pat finally spoke, but he sounded just as lost as he looked. 

"Yes. The one that will kill both of us if she catches you in here." Pran watched as Pat's eyes slid to the door behind him, and then back to Pran. He seemed completely unworried at the prospect of getting caught, still staring up at Pran from the exact same position on the bed. With a frustrated sigh, Pran took another step forward, moving to start physically pushing Pat off the bed. This, finally, seemed to wake him out of his stupor, and Pat pushed himself up into a sitting position before Pran could reach him.

"Oh, right. Sorry," Pat said, grinning at Pran.

"That's the least sincere apology I've ever heard." Pran waved his hands at Pat, attempting to shoo him away. "What are you even doing here? Who said you could use my bed?" 

"Why can't I?" The grin spread even wider, and Pat's eyes turned playful. Something in Pran's stomach flipped at the unbearably familiar expression. "Someone should get some use out of it while you're off at boarding school."

"I'm not off anywhere anymore, so you can stop-"

"Really?" The note of excitement in Pat's voice was hard to ignore, but even harder was the way he leaned towards Pran. Almost without thinking, Pran took a step back. "Are you going to university around here?"

"My parents wanted me nearby." The conversation was rapidly spinning out of Pran's control, and he hadn't even managed to get Pat off his bed yet.

"Are you living at home? I haven't seen you."

"I have a dorm. Were you-" Were you looking? Pran bit down on the question, refusing to let it leave his mouth. It wasn't important. Pat probably just meant that it was odd that they hadn't run into each other, which it was. There had been a moment, back in the first couple weeks he came back, when he'd thought he'd seen Pat walking away from their houses. But it had been at night, and only his back, and Pran hadn't seen him return. Or seen him at all, actually, ever since. Not even through their shared windows.

Because Pran, unfortunately, had been looking, as much as he tried not to. And he couldn't deny the bitter weight of disappointment that had lodged in his chest when he hadn't been able to find him. 

"You still haven't told me why you're here," Pran said. "More than that, get out!" He made a wide gesture towards the window, and Pat's eyes tracked his hand before coming back to meet Pran's. 

"You haven't seen me in so long and the first thing you do is scold me." Pat's grin melted into an exaggerated pout as Pat spoke, although his eyes still sparkled with amusement. "No one's here, you can admit you missed me." Pran swallowed.

"Why would I miss you?" The words came out harsher than he intended, his tone sharpened by the way his heart skipped a beat in his chest. For a split second, Pat's mocking pout dropped. There was something else on his face, something Pran wasn't used to seeing. It was tired and kind of- and then it was gone, and Pat was smiling again instead.

"I guess you wouldn't," Pat said. Pran opened his mouth to retort, but then Pat's eyes darted to the door behind him again and widened in fear. "Is your mom coming?" The panic in his voice made Pran whirl around, excuses already prepared on his tongue, but the door stayed closed, and he didn't hear anyone beyond it.

"There's no one-" Pran started, turning back around to find himself faced with an empty room. Stubbornly, he pressed his lips together, fighting off the smile that was threatening to break his composure. "Asshole," Pran said to the now unoccupied bed.

Then, because he was alone, Pran let himself relax into a grin. The whole interaction had left him feeling an odd mix of adrenaline and relief, like popping a joint back into place. Somehow he always felt like that with Pat, although Pran had kind of hoped that three years of distance might've given him a little bit of a defense. He'd spent those years reminding himself why falling for Pat had been a terrible idea, that it had led to nothing good, that Pat wasn't even all that great to begin with anyway.

Clearly he'd needed to work harder on it.

Pran shook his head, schooling his expression into something more neutral. This was ridiculous. Pat had been here because- shit. Okay, so he hadn't actually managed to get a straight answer out of Pat about that, but that was fine. Pran could guess. Maybe Pat just liked the privacy. After all, no one was going to be looking for him here of all places. If he wanted to escape his parents or something, then Pran's room was easily accessible. It was also, of course, kind of stupidly risky, given that Pran's parents could walk in at any point. The door hadn't even been locked, and yet Pat had been fully asleep, as if he wasn't at all worried. Had he somehow forgotten that their families had a whole feud? Or that, if Pat was caught here, Pran would be the one to get punished? Was he just being selfish, hoping to get Pran in trouble? But he hadn't even known that Pran was back, apparently. 

So why, exactly, had Pat been in his room?

It didn't matter. If Pran kept telling himself that, it would become true. Pat knew he was back now so there was no way he was going to just hang out in Pran's room again. If they'd managed to avoid seeing each other for the past two months, then they'd probably be able to keep on doing that. This was just an anomaly.

The fact that this made his shoulders droop with disappointment again wasn't something Pran needed to acknowledge. It was for the best. He just had to stop thinking about Pat.

-

"Why'd you stop?" Wai asked, just over Pran's shoulder. Pran glanced back at him, then looked over at the group of engineering students that had caught his attention. For a split second he'd thought he'd seen Pat sitting next to the one with the ponytail, but Pran had blinked and he'd been gone.

"Hey!" Wai waved his hand in front of Pran's face, and Pran tore his gaze away and looked back at his best friend. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Pran said, shaking his head. "I just thought I saw someone I knew."

"You know someone in engineering?" Wai peered over Pran's shoulder, then stepped back, arching an eyebrow at him. "Really?"

"I don't think it was them."

"Good." Wai grimaced. "They're a bunch of assholes. They've calmed down since their student council president left, but they're still dicks."

"What happened to their president?" Pran couldn't help but look over at the group one more time, but the person he was looking for still wasn't there. It must've been a trick of his mind. Actually getting to see Pat in the flesh again had made him hyperaware of anywhere Pat could potentially be. But then again, if they were in the same university, surely he would've run into him by now.

"I don't know," Wai said. "Some kind of accident." Pran let out a hum of acknowledgment, but couldn't deny that he wasn't listening very closely to Wai.

"That's too bad," Pran said, finally turning to start walking again. Wai nodded and continued alongside him. They walked in silence, Pran lost in his own thoughts. It was ridiculous to think that Pat was going to school here. Sure, it was the closest university to their houses and also the one Pat's dad had gone to, but it had been two months. If Pat was here, and especially if Pat was in engineering, there was no way Pran wouldn't have seen him before. Engineering and architecture had some shared classes, even. It was wishful thinking and Pran had already told himself he was going to be putting a stop to those kinds of thoughts. Pat wasn't here and Pran shouldn't want him here. Pat was nothing to him, not even a friend. 

Pran managed to put Pat out of his thoughts completely. Classes, and the overload of homework, certainly helped. By the time he was returning to his dorm, Pran was too distracted trying to figure out how to maintain his impeccable schedule to think about Pat. He fumbled with his keys at the door to his room, brow furrowed.

"You live here?" Pat said in his ear. "Really?"

"Shit!" Pran jumped, the keys slipping from his fingers and dropping to the floor as he whirled around. Pat was already stepping back as he did, looking entirely too amused. "Pat?"

"Ta-da!" Pat said, spreading his arms out. He was smiling and wearing a tank top, and his arms were flexing as he held them out. It was an interesting combination. Pran looked away.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, distracting himself with the logistical problem of how the hell Pat was standing in front of him right now. "Wait, how did you even- this is my dorm. Do you-"

"I saw you outside," Pat said and Pran frowned at the interruption. "So I decided to come say hi."

"You decided- did you follow me up here?" Pat didn't answer, so Pran let himself look over at him once again. When their eyes met, Pat gave a small smile and shrugged a little. "You did. Why, exactly, did you think stalking me to my room was a good idea?"

"Stalking is harsh," Pat said, sticking out his lower lip.

"What would you call it, then?"

"Reconnaissance?"

"Oh, you're a spy now."

"I would make a good one, you have to admit."

"You'd be a terrible spy!"

"I just snuck up on you, didn't I?"

"That-" Pran scoffed. "That doesn't count."

"Why not?" Pat looked honestly offended at the idea and Pran couldn't help but laugh. A second later, Pat joined in and something warm and familiar settled into Pran's chest. Fuck. He'd really missed this. After a few moments, the laughter petered out, but Pran still felt lighter and the smile stayed on his face. Pat was smiling too, in the way that made his eyes soften and his cheeks crinkle. 

"You're way too obvious to be a good spy," Pran said.

"But I am handsome." Pat winked and Pran pressed his lips together to suppress another laugh.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Haven't you seen a movie? A great spy is always handsome."

"So you're a great spy now."

"I've always been great."

"Seriously, do you have the right to be this confident?" Pran shook his head. "What an asshole."

"What's wrong with being confident?" Pat said. He was still smiling, but it was sharper now, a little less soft. He leaned in towards Pran, not close at all but still closer, and winked again. "You should try it. I bet it'd look good on you." 

Pran swallowed. The lightness in his chest was replaced by a solid thump of his heart, and he could feel his brain grind to a halt. It would look good on him. Being confident. Pat wanted him to be confident because it would look good? Pat wanted him to look good? 

"I am confident," Pran said and turned towards his door, blindly reaching for the knob. It turned but didn't give way, and he stared at it in momentary confusion. Behind him, he heard Pat snort, and silently cursed as he remembered that he'd never actually gotten around to unlocking the damn thing. Quickly Pran crouched down and grabbed his keys, thanking whatever good luck he had that he managed to get them on the first try. He stood up and fumbled to the right one, resolutely ignoring Pat's laughter as he did so.

"I can see that," Pat said, just as the lock clicked. Pran scowled and shoved his door open.

"Don't follow me again," he snapped, looking back over his shoulder at Pat.

"What if I'm lonely?" Pat was leaning against the wall, eyes sparkling with amusement as he looked at Pran.

"Find someone else to talk to!" With that, Pran marched inside his room and slammed the door behind him. He leaned against it, trying to even out his breathing and slow his heartbeat. The giddy sense of joy was still thundering through his veins, making it hard to keep himself centered. He half expected Pat to start knocking, but there was only silence out in the hallway. Giving up on dignity in the privacy of his own room, Pran turned to look through the peephole, hoping for one last glimpse.

The hallway was empty, Pat nowhere to be seen.

Disappointed, Pran pushed himself away from his door. 

How could Pat just say things like that? Didn't he realize what he was doing? But, of course, to Pat it was just a joke. Pran had to remember that. It wasn't real. It was a joke.

That didn't stop him from smiling his way through his homework, but it never did.

-

It took Pran until the next morning to realize that Pat had once again managed to get through a whole conversation without actually answering any of his questions. Pran still didn't even know if Pat went to school here, although he couldn't think of any other reason Pat would just be hanging out on campus. So he did, probably, go to school here. Whatever faculty he was in must've been entirely separate from architecture, because Pran knew for a fact he hadn't seen him in any of their classes. So did that mean he had just imagined seeing Pat with the engineering kids? Or maybe Pat was just friends with them. It wouldn't surprise him. Pat had always been very sociable, and could even be charming when he wanted to. Pran found him charming most of the time, but he knew that he was more than a little biased. 

Still, Pran found himself keeping an eye out during his classes. As if he would have somehow missed Pat the past couple months and if he just paid attention, there the other boy would be, smiling at him across the classroom.

Pat wasn't there.

Pran told himself not to be disappointed by that, and wasn't at all surprised when it didn't work.

It was ridiculous. There was no reason to look for Pat. Even if he did find him, what was Pran going to do? It wasn't like they could be seen talking to each other. And he didn't have anything to talk about anyway. They weren't supposed to interact beyond competition, so if there was nothing to compete in then there was no excuse. 

Even if Pat had seemingly forgotten that when he decided to follow Pran to his dorm room. Probably, by now, he'd remembered that they were rivals and nothing more. Maybe he'd leave Pran alone. Maybe Pran would finally be able to get over this stupid crush and focus on more important things.

When Pran got back to his room, Pat was sitting against the opposite door. For a moment, Pran just stood there, trying to figure out if he had the worst luck in the world, or the best. And then he took another moment to just look at Pat. He was staring at Pran's door, but his eyes were unfocused and he looked uncharacteristically thoughtful. He didn't even seem to notice Pran's presence, at least until Pran took another step forward and into his eyeline. At that, Pat's eyes focused again and a smile lit up his face. Why was he always smiling?

"What-" Pran started, ready to begin this conversation just like the last two. But Pat jumped to his feet, already laughing, and Pran got distracted by the way his eyes squinted while he did. Quickly he made his face into a scowl and looked away from Pat again. "I'm not even going to ask this time." It was kind of a terrible cover, since he very much did want to ask why Pat was here again, but it was all he had.

"That means you're getting used to me, right?" Pat teased. 

"It means I'm getting tired of you."

"Mm, guess I'll have to work harder then."

"Have you ever worked hard?" Pran smirked at Pat. "Do you even know how?"

"I've worked at plenty of things," Pat said indignantly. Pran just shook his head and turned to focus on getting his door open. For a few moments, Pat was silent behind him, and Pran started to wonder if he was going to turn around to see Pat gone. Again. "Like our band." Pran froze, key turned in the lock. "Guess that one didn't turn out so well." Pat sounded... apologetic? Regretful? Pran couldn't quite pin it down and he couldn't help but look at Pat, trying to see what he was missing. Pat was standing with his hands in his pockets, a slight smile quirking up one side of his mouth, and his eyes focused entirely on Pran. There was a sincerity in them, of the kind that he knew Pat was capable of but didn't see too often. His words felt like an apology and Pran couldn't tell if he wanted to accept it or tell Pat to fuck off.

"Please," he said. "I worked way harder on that."

"We worked together," Pat replied, his voice amused now. "I own half that song. Legally."

"I don't think there was anything particularly legally binding about you writing your name on my piece of paper." This was familiar territory again. Pran could roll his eyes at Pat, make jokes and tease him and get teased and make all the excuses in the world for why it meant nothing. It was when Pat was heartfelt, burningly so, that Pran found himself losing ground against the feelings he'd been fighting for most of his life. At this point, Pran thought he should maybe have a better strategy for resisting Pat's everything, but nothing stood the test of Pat's eyes.

"We could get it notarized," Pat was saying and Pran snorted.

"That's not how any part of that works." Pat shrugged, the movement making his shoulders flex. Did he not own shirts with actual sleeves?

"We could make it work," Pat said and his eyes met Pran's, and Pran could feel his retorts drying up in his throat. He swallowed them down and took a step back. The door behind him was already unlocked and he turned the handle. 

"I have homework to do," Pran said and hoped he didn't sound nearly as strangled to Pat as he did to his own ears. He watched the smile turn into a frown as Pat watched him back through his door.

"Can I come in?"

"No." Pran slammed the door and stared at it. Every conversation with Pat felt like a seesaw. One minute it was easy and natural and fun, and the next his heart decided to remind him why he had never been able to get Pat out of his head no matter how hard he tried.

Pran really wished he disliked how it felt.

-

The problem with getting Pat's attention, even briefly, was that it was kind of addictive. The warmth that always seemed to surround him, the tricks Pran's heart played when Pat was around, the teasing softened by years of knowing each other. It was electrifying to Pran every single time.

Which meant that when he didn't see Pat for the rest of the week, it felt like an absence even though it rightfully shouldn't. Not seeing Pat was his normal, or at least it had been. Talking to him a couple times over the course of a few days shouldn't be enough to reset three years of separation. But, of course, Pran had never been able to get any part of himself to be logical when Pat was around. So he'd let himself get his hopes up that maybe Pat would pop up without explanation again, smile at him and make a stupid joke and maybe even wink, and now Pat wasn't around and it made sense but it still kind of really fucking sucked. It was also more than a little embarrassing when Wai asked him why he kept peering around when they walked to class and who he was looking for.

Pran didn't answer.

It was a good thing Pat wasn't around. Pran still didn't even know why Pat had been hanging outside his room last time, or what faculty he was in, or anything about what Pat was up to when he wasn't bothering Pran. They were all questions Pat had cheerfully avoided answering, which made it pretty clear that he didn't want to tell Pran. So if they were going to hang out, it would have to be up to Pat and Pat alone. It was bullshit and Pran wasn't going to just sit there and take it.

He glared down at his notebook, which currently held a sketch of Pat sitting in the hallway outside his room. That definitely wasn't his assignment. He had work to do, and Pat haunting his page as well as his thoughts wasn't helping. Neither was the fact that whoever lived across the hall had apparently chosen this weekend as a good time to move literally everything in their room, with no small amount of banging going into it.

There was a crash from right outside his door and Pran shoved away from his desk and marched to his door. If he couldn't tell Pat to get out of his head, he could at least tell his neighbor to be quiet. Pran pulled open his door and saw Paa, kneeling on the ground next to a large cardboard box full of stuff that had just spilled out on the floor. She looked up, eyes widening in surprise, and Pran found himself staring back with what was probably a similar expression. For a split second time seemed frozen, and then Pran realized that the crashing had been Paa dropping the box. Pran hurried over and started gathering up the picture frames that had spilled onto the ground. Paa was still staring at him, holding one of the frames in her hand.

"Pran? You're back?" she said and Pran blinked. Had Pat just not mentioned that they'd seen each other? It made sense not to bring it up to his parents, but Pran had always been fond of Paa and he knew she felt the same way. Pat was well aware of that.

"Yeah. I live right there," Pran replied, gesturing at his room.

"Ah, did I disturb you with all the noise?" Paa sat back on her heels and raised her hands into an apologetic gesture. "I'm sorry!"

"I did tell you to be careful," Pat grumbled and Pran jerked his head up to see him leaning against the wall opposite Pran's room. Not even trying to help Paa. Pointedly, Pran turned his attention back to Paa and smiled at her.

"It's fine, really." He picked up another picture frame, glancing down at it. It was Paa and Pat as kids, arms wrapped around each other and big smiles on their faces. "What is all this, anyway?"

"Oh. Well, I-" Paa stopped and glanced down at the box and Pran frowned. She sniffled and then cleared her throat. "I'm clearing out Pat's room."

Pran looked up at Pat again. He met Pran's gaze, looking resigned. So that was it? That was why Pat had been hanging around. He'd been living in the other room and just hadn't said anything, and now he was moving. To get away from Pran. Fine.

"And he's not helping?" Pran said, his voice icy as he dumped the last of the pictures back into the box. Pat turned his head away, looking down the hall, and Pran couldn't see his expression anymore.

"Pran..." Paa's voice made Pran look back at her, and he saw she was staring at him with horror in her eyes. His stomach dropped and Pran started to feel slightly sick. "Do you not know?"

"Know what?" Pran could feel cold tendrils of dread begin to creep up his spine. Although he wanted to look at Pat again, the expression on Paa's face captured his gaze and refused to let it go. "Paa, what happened?" Had their parents found out about Pran living so close? Was Pat not just leaving the dorm, but university itself? 

"It's- It's about Pat. He- there was an accident." Paa stumbled over her words, eyes beginning to shine with unshed tears. The sick feeling in Pran's stomach twisted into outright fear. "We don't know how it happened but he's- he's in the hospital-" Pran wanted so badly to look over to where Pat was. This had to be some kind of horrifyingly unfunny joke. A prank that Paa had, for some reason, agreed to be involved in. "They're not sure when- when he's going to wake up." There was no other explanation. 

It didn't explain the look on Paa's face. Or the tears that had begun to slip down her cheeks. Or the deafening silence from Pat.

Pat. Who had been right there. Who had met Pran's gaze. Who had been waiting outside of his room just days ago. Who had been sleeping in his bed just last week.

Slowly, with the kind of effort Pran usually reserved for looking away from Pat, he dragged his gaze over to the wall.

Pat was standing there, still looking down the hallway. Away from Pran and Paa. Every muscle Pran could see was tense and he watched as Pat's jaw worked.

And then Pat flickered.

Once.

Twice.

And was gone.

Chapter Text

"Pran?" Paa said, her voice thick with tears. The empty space where Pat had been felt like it was staring at Pran and he forced himself away from it, looking back at Paa. She was gazing at him with wide, red rimmed eyes.

“I-I didn’t know,” Pran said. Of course he didn’t know. No one had thought to tell him. No one had thought that Pran would need to know. Pran didn’t know what expression he was making, but it must’ve been a little concerning judging by the look Paa was giving him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Paa said, but her voice shook with the effort of it and Pran winced. They were both still crouched on the ground, and she had her arms wrapped around her knees. All Pran could see was a little girl that he had pulled out of the water, crying and reaching for her brother. Silently, he stood up and held out his arms. For a moment, Paa just looked at him. And then she made a noise like a wounded animal, and launched herself at him, burying her face in his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. 

Pran wasn’t sure how long they stood there. Nothing felt real, like the world had turned into a daydream between one blink and the next and if he just kept existing things would go back to normal soon. Except that they weren’t going back to normal. Paa was crying against his chest because Pat was-

He’d been right there. He’d been outside Pran’s room a couple days ago. He’d been in Pran’s bed last week. Had Pran just been so desperate to see him that he’d started to picture him everywhere? Imagined conversations they could’ve had?

In his arms, Paa let out a heaving sigh and started to pull back. Pran let her go and desperately tried to figure out what he was supposed to say next. She looked calmer, at least, which was something Pran envied. His mind was still a swirling storm of questions and confusion and a persistent need to know what was happening to him.

“What-” Pran started, then hesitated. It felt careless to go digging for details from Paa, but she seemed to understand what he was getting at anyway. She sniffled and wiped at her eyes, and Pran instantly felt guilty. “Never mind. I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, no!” Paa said, her voice steady again. “I just thought someone must’ve told you, so I wasn’t expecting-” She gestured between the two of them and Pran nodded, although he didn’t know who she thought would’ve told him. His parents? He couldn’t remember the last time they brought up Pat, except to complain about the neighbors. It was like they thought mentioning his name would summon him back into Pran’s life.

If that worked, Pran would’ve seen Pat again ages ago.

“You deserve to know,” Paa continued. Her eyes were still red and Pran felt another stab of guilt. He opened his mouth to protest again, but then Paa squared her shoulders and set her jaw, looking so much like Pat as she did so that Pran felt all his breath leave him at once. “A couple months ago he went for a walk and he- he didn’t come back.” Around when Pran would have been coming back home, then. No wonder they hadn’t seen each other. “I found him, eventually, down by the lake. He must’ve fell and hit his head or something, because he was just… laying there.” There was another waver in her voice and Pran reached his hand out to comfort her, but Paa waved it away. When she spoke again, her voice was steady and she looked Pran dead in the eye. “We don’t know how long he was like that. There’s no apparent brain damage on the scans, but they can’t tell for sure if anything’s wrong until he wakes up, but-” Paa paused again, this time for a tight shrug. “He hasn’t yet. And there’s no way of knowing when he will.”

Or if. Pran felt himself go a little cold and pushed the thought away.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Pran said. “Pat’s always been tough.” There was an aura of confidence around Pat, like he just knew that everything would turn out fine. It felt like he didn’t worry about anything, let alone the hundreds of things Pran got anxious about every day. It was equal parts reassuring and annoying.

Something like this couldn’t stop him for long.

In front of him, Paa nodded. Her lips were pressed together and her arms were crossed in front of her chest and she looked so young that Pran felt his heart break a little. She was only a year below him and Pat, but she had always been the baby. To have to deal with Pat being hurt, and also be in charge of emptying his dorm felt like too much responsibility to put on her. Pran bent down and picked up the box.

“Are you cleaning out the room on your own?” Pran asked. “Let me help.”

“I wanted to do it alone,” Paa said, smiling a little when Pran shot her a confused look. “There’s some stuff Pat wouldn’t- doesn’t want our parents to see.”

“Oh.” Pran didn’t know why that felt so surprising to him. Of course Pat had secrets from his parents. Once upon a time, Pran had been one of them. It had just also always seemed like Pat was an open book. “I’ll bring this down to the car for you, at least.”

“That’s really the only one left, Pran, it’s fine!” Paa reached her arms out but Pran just frowned at her, refusing to let it go. “If you really want to help me, could I have your number? I wanna be able to contact you if something changes.”

“Of course. But I’ll do the box first.”

“If you insist!” Paa grinned at Pran and hopped back, gesturing for him to continue down the hall. He rolled his eyes at her sudden capitulation, but headed down. Paa directed him to a car parked just outside the building, stuffed full with similar boxes. Once Pran had managed to fit his addition into the mess, he stepped back and surveyed the situation. If only he’d been helping from the beginning, it would’ve been much more organized. The smaller ones should’ve been left for last, of course, and the heaviest ones on the bottom.

Just as Pran started to consider emptying the whole car out and doing it again, Paa shoved her phone into his face. Pran huffed out a laugh, but took out his own phone and added her.

It was strange to think that he could just message Paa now. Their families had been at war for so long, but she smiled at him and invited him into her life without a thought. It felt a little less dangerous with Paa than it always had with Pat.

“Ah, actually there is one more thing!” Paa exclaimed, interrupting Pran’s thoughts. She shoved her phone into her pocket and hurried to the back of the car, digging through the packed trunk. “I was trying to figure out how I was going to get this home without ma or papa seeing, but this is much better.” A moment later, she emerged, holding in her hands a guitar case.

Pran’s guitar case, with his guitar. The one he’d had in high school, the one he’d assumed was lost because none of his old friends had had it or known where it was, and he’d decided to give up on music so he’d just told himself it didn’t matter anyway. Paa was holding out his guitar to him, smiling.

“He’s been hiding this for ages,” Paa said and Pran realized he was staring blankly. Quickly, he reached out to take it from her, a wave of nostalgia slamming into him as he did so.

“Pat had this in his dorm?” Pran asked, not quite able to wrap his mind around it.

“Mm,” Paa said with a nod. “Probably didn’t want to leave it at home in case ma found it while cleaning or something.” Right. Because it had Pran’s name written on it in huge letters. He remembered doing that when he first got it, so proud that he’d managed to save enough and wanting to make sure everyone knew it was his.

Pat had been keeping his guitar safe for the past three years.

Pat was currently laying in a hospital bed and Pran had been so desperate to see him again, he’d started hallucinating his presence.

“Thank you,” Pran said. “I didn’t think I’d find this again.”

“Of course!” Paa replied. “That’s why he kept it.”

-

Pran sat on his bed, looking at the case. He hadn’t even actually opened it yet. It had felt weird to get it out in front of the building while Paa was there. Then, after she’d left to get Pat’s stuff back home, he’d just kind of wandered back up to his room and stared at the door across the hall for a little while. The door that should have been Pat’s. Except Pat was unconscious, which meant Pran couldn’t have talked to him just last week. Or at all, actually.

He dropped his head into his hands and wondered when he’d lost his mind, and why hadn’t noticed.

“Damn. I wanted to make you pay me for it at least.” 

Pran whipped his head up and saw Pat leaning against the doorframe, also looking at the guitar case. He blinked, and Pat was still very much there. Impossibly so.

“I guess it’s fine,” Pat continued with a dramatic sigh. “It was just taking up space in my room anyway.” Pran saw the beginnings of a very familiar smirk forming on Pat’s face, but when his gaze slid to Pran it faded into something a little more apprehensive.

Pran stared. Pat stared back.

“This is not happening,” Pran said. It was mostly to himself, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Pat. “I am not hallucinating Pat. I’m not doing it.” There had to be a line. Pran could admit he was very good at the whole pining thing, but this was taking it a bridge too far. 

“You’re not,” Pat replied. “I mean… unless you want to be? Would you hallucinate me? That’s cute.” This was some kind of weird, complex imagination that had gotten too real, brought on by an influx of very bad news and incredibly complicated feelings. Pran’s brain was trying to make sense of everything and had decided to make this start happening. Retroactively. For the past week.

It was, at the moment, his strongest theory.

“I am overtired,” Pran said, firmly. “And this isn’t happening. So I don’t need to worry about it.”

“Are you capable of not worrying about things?” 

Had Pat always been this annoying, or was his brain trying to magnify his worst traits so Pran wouldn’t miss him quite as much? Either way, it wasn’t working.

Determinedly, Pran let his gaze drift to just over Pat’s shoulder and stared at the wall. There was no difference, of course, because Pat wasn’t actually there. So it didn’t matter if he didn’t look at him and didn’t respond to his dumb quips.

“Come on, man. Really?” Pat said, and Pran could hear a note of frustration in his voice. Maybe if imagination Pat got annoyed he’d just leave. Not that Pat would ever give up that easily. But this Pat wasn’t real, so- “Fine.”

Oh no. Pran recognized that ‘fine’. It meant ‘challenge accepted’ and it never led to anything good. His eyes snapped back to Pat, who was already moving right towards Pran with a hand outstretched.

“What-” Pran started, and then Pat’s hand went through his shoulder and his entire body locked up. It felt like he’d just jumped into a freezing lake and he let out a choked gasp, barely able to drag a breath through his lips. A split second later and Pat was stumbling back and the feeling vanished just as quickly as it had come.

“Shit!” Pat said, eyes darting between his hands and Pran with obvious horror. “What the fuck was that?”

“What-” Pran had to pause to drag in a deep breath, finally letting his burning lungs fill with air. “What do you mean, ‘what the fuck was that’? You did it!”

“Yeah, but it’s usually just kinda weird! Not that!” 

“Usually kind of weird? Do you stick your hands through people a lot?”

“Obviously! What else would a ghost do?”

“A what?” Maybe Pran hadn’t lost his mind. Maybe the rest of the world had decided to go crazy when he wasn’t looking and no one had bothered to tell him. That would be just typical.

“What did you think was happening?” Pat asked incredulously. Pran threw his hands up.

“I don’t know, Pat! But my first thought, weirdly enough, wasn’t that you’re haunting me!”

“I’m not-” Pat paused, and his face scrunched up as he thought. “Okay, I guess I am technically haunting you.” His gaze dropped back to Pran and he grinned, widely. “Hey, you’re not ignoring me any more!”

Pran put his head in his hands.

“What the fuck.” It wasn’t even a question anymore. Just a statement to the universe.

Ghosts. Like from horror movies and campfire stories and incredibly cheesy scam emails. The rational part of Pran’s brain rejected the idea of adding ‘ghosts’ to the list of things that existed in the world. There had to be some other explanation. But then he remembered the feeling of Pat’s hand in his shoulder, the horrifying icy suffocation. He’d never felt anything like that before. He wasn’t sure his mind could conjure that out of nowhere. It had felt too real, too visceral, to be his imagination. That left only a few options, and Pat being a ghost was starting to feel like the most appealing one.

How the fuck was this his life right now?

“Pran?” Pat said. “You okay?” He sounded worried and for some reason that struck Pran as funny. The ghost boy was worried about him. Pran lifted his head out of his hands and found himself looking right into Pat’s eyes. He was kneeling in front of him, hands hovering outstretched but far away from actually touching him. The irrational part of Pran’s brain thought that was a shame.

“I need evidence,” Pran said. Pat looked slightly taken aback, but Pran pushed onwards. “I can’t just accept that this is happening. That you’re a-” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say the word.

“Ghost?” Pat finished the sentence for him, confusion falling away into a smirk.

“Right. That.” Pran took a deep breath. What was actually needed right now was a plan. A numbered series of steps that he could follow to deal with whatever this was. 

Step number one. Confirm or disprove that Pat is a ghost and not a manifestation of Pran’s myriad repressed emotions. A subcategory of step one was also proving that Pat was actually in the hospital, because while the theory that this was somehow a prank gotten wildly out of hand wasn’t exactly solid, Pran needed to be thorough. He wasn’t going to jump straight into the supernatural if other, more realistic explanations existed.

“Okay,” Pran said. “I need you to tell me something that I don’t know.”

“What?” Pat replied, arching an eyebrow.

“Evidence,” Pran repeated. “Come on. If you’re not in my head, prove it.” It came out sounding like a challenge, and Pran stared Pat in the eyes, daring him to argue. Pat smirked in the way he did when it meant he’d decided to accept that dare.

“It’s gotta be something you can verify, though,” Pat pointed out. “Which kind of limits my options here.”

“You’re the one who needs to prove you exist. Not my problem.”

“I could definitely make it your problem.” Pat was grinning again and Pran had to tamp down the impulse to smile back. “Follow you around all the time, be really obnoxious.”

“You mean exactly what you’ve been doing since we were kids?” Pran shot back and Pat snorted.

“I’m pretty sure you were the one following me around.” Pran pursed his lips and Pat smiled broadly at him. “I could definitely be way more annoying about it, though. You won’t believe how much free time being dead gives you.”

“You’re not dead,” Pran protested, and then huffed in annoyance when Pat just rolled his eyes. It was important. Pat wasn’t dead. He was just comatose, somewhere, apparently.

Oh.

“Where are you?” Pran said. Pat slowly looked down at himself, and then back up at Pran. “I mean your body, dumbass. Paa never told me what hospital you were in or anything, and I need to visit you.” The expression on Pat’s face slowly soured as Pran spoke.

“Do you?” Pat asked and Pran sighed. 

“Yes, obviously. Come on.” Pat continued to frown, his hands fidgeting nervously. Pran stared at him. “Wait, do you not know where your body is?”

“I do!” Pat scoffed. “Probably.”

“Probably?” Pran said. There was no way Pat was so irresponsible he’d lost track of his own body. That was ridiculous.

“If it’s where it was last time I checked. I dunno if the doctors moved it or anything.” Or maybe it wasn’t ridiculous.

“How long has it been since you checked?”

“A few weeks. Maybe more.”

“Maybe more?” 

“I haven’t really been keeping track of time. And it’s not like I’m eager to hang out in my own hospital room.” Pat made a face. “It’s boring.”

Pran lifted his eyes up to stare at the ceiling and sighed for about the millionth time since the conversation had started. How had this become his reality? Discussing Pat losing his own body like it was a spare set of keys? If his brain was playing tricks on him, it was doing it in the weirdest way possible.

“Okay. Well. The hospital probably hasn’t moved a coma patient so let’s go.”

“Now?” Pat said, still not getting up from his position on the floor.

“Yes, now. I have things I want to do today,” Pran said, standing up. Dealing with all of this was throwing off his homework schedule. And he’d wanted to clean out his closet today, but that probably wasn’t going to happen.

“But-” Pat started, and Pran could hear the whine in his voice before he even got past the first word. The whine that usually accompanied a pout, the kind of pout that Pran had a very hard time saying no to.

“I’m going. Come with me or I’m assuming you’re not real and never talking to you again,” Pran said, moving around Pat and heading for the door. Behind him he heard another disgruntled groan, but when he reached the door and glanced back he saw Pat getting up to follow.

Well. At least if it turned out he was losing his mind, he’d already be in a hospital.

-

Pat had been uncharacteristically quiet the whole way, only speaking up when Pran demanded directions. At first Pran had been grateful for the silence and the chance to stew in his own thoughts, but then it had started to grate on him. The world felt a little out of sync without Pat smiling and talking to him. And Pat’s expression had gotten more and more distressed as they went. Now, as they were standing outside of a hospital room that was supposed to be his, he seemed to be nearly vibrating on the spot. He refused to look at the door, his gaze instead bouncing around the hallway, and his hands balled up at his sides. The aura of anxiety around him was tangible.

With a quick glance around, Pran pulled out his phone and pressed it to his ear.

“You can wait out here,” Pran said. It was like cutting the strings on a puppet with how immediately Pat relaxed.

“Are you sure?” Pat said, as if he hadn’t just been so tense Pran had thought he might snap.

“Yeah. It’s fine. I’ll be quick and then we can go.” Really all he had to do was see if Pat was in there and then decide if that meant he believed in ghosts now.

“Okay.” Pat was smiling at him again. Not one of his usual teasing ones, but genuine and beautiful with gratitude shining out of his eyes.

“Don’t disappear or anything,” Pran snapped and Pat did a mocking salute.

“Yes sir!” Pat laughed, and Pran couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as well. “I’ll be right here. I promise.”

“You’d better be.” Pran turned towards the door and hesitated, his hand hovering over the handle. Up until now this whole thing had felt like a weird fever dream. A little above and away from reality, so it didn’t matter what was true or what wasn’t. Now, though, he had to actually face the facts. What if he walked into this room and found nothing? What if he had to confront the idea that he’d been talking to himself all day, so desperate to hear Pat’s voice that he’d conjured up a version of him to interact with? 

It would be better to know. It wasn’t like he could spend the rest of his life talking to a Pat that no one else could see. Although he wouldn’t even be able to talk to Pat at all if other people could see him. It was like the world was designed to keep the two of them as far apart from each other as possible. To get close enough to have an actual conversation felt like fighting a war he’d never signed up for. And now, standing in a hospital, Pran had to face the idea that there was yet another barrier. Either he needed some serious therapy, or Pat was out of his reach in a much more literal way. 

So, in the end, nothing would really change.

Pran took a breath, steeled himself, and walked through the door.

There were monitors beeping. Bags of liquid hanging from hooks. Tubes and wires dripping from machines. All of it converging on one central point. The bed.

Where Pat was laying.

Paa had never told Pran where he was. She’d never even mentioned any of the doctors names, let alone the hospital. No one else in Pran’s life would think to mention it either. Most of them didn’t even know he would care that something had happened to Pat. Logically speaking, there was no way for him to have known that Pat would be here.

Which meant that he had been led here by someone who did know. Pat. The Pat standing out in the hallway, waiting for him. The one that had to be real, just as real as the one in the bed in front of him.

More real, even.

This Pat, the unconscious one, didn’t look at all like Pran remembered. The fluorescents and the white bedding leeched the color from his skin, the hospital gown seemed to fall limply on a smaller frame, and he was completely still. Laying there, he looked fragile. Like if Pran touched him, he would shatter into a million pieces. Like he was just a doll. Empty. A porcelain body with no one inside.

Pran closed his eyes and turned around. Behind him there was the beeping of machines, a steady reassurance that Pat was still alive, despite how it seemed. Pat was alive and Pat was waiting for him outside in the hall and Pat was unconscious in this room with him. Something in Pran’s chest felt tight and there was a watering in his eyes that he was doing his best to ignore. Not to mention the storm of emotions threatening to break in his mind. But right here and right now wasn’t the time or place. And Pran wasn’t going to weep over Pat’s body like some kind of widow. He refused to let that happen.

Besides, he’d promised Pat he wouldn’t be long. He just needed to decide what he was going to do next.

Step one had been to confirm that this was happening. Well, it was pretty decently confirmed.

So, onto step two. What the fuck was step two? Even as they’d been coming here, Pran hadn’t let himself seriously entertain the thought that Pat was a ghost. Now, faced with tangible evidence, he found himself woefully underprepared. And did there even need to be a step two? He’d kind of bullied Pat into taking him here in the first place. It certainly didn’t seem like Pat expected him to actually do anything about his current state. He hadn’t even admitted to being a ghost until he’d been cornered into it. Pran didn’t even know how Pat had ended up like this, or what he could do to wake him up. Was it really his responsibility to try and solve this problem? 

Pran looked over his shoulder at Pat’s body once more. Maybe it wasn’t his responsibility, but it was his choice. And there was no way he could choose to leave Pat like this if there was something he could do.

Step number two. Take Pat back to his room and make him explain everything.

Letting out a slow, measured breath, Pran pulled out his phone to check the time. He’d only been in here a couple minutes, and he’d promised Pat he wouldn’t take long. Thinking about it, he couldn’t blame Pat for not wanting to come in. If Pran had been in his position, there wasn’t much that could get him into a room with his own body.

Pat burst through the door, literally phasing through it, with a panicked look on his face.

“Pa-” Pran started but Pat made a frantic hand gesture.

“Shut up! My ma’s here!” Pat hissed.

“Don’t tell me to shut up!” Pran said, then processed the rest of the sentence. “Your-”

The door opened, and Pat’s mom walked in.

There was a moment of silence as Pran tried to figure out what he was supposed to say to the mother of his lifelong rival, and wife of his own mother’s worst enemy. He assumed she was trying to answer a similar question, given the look of confused surprise on her face.

“Fuck,” Pat said. “Uh. It’ll be fine. Probably. Shit.” Pran desperately wished he could tell him to shut up. If Pran didn’t get to swear right now, Pat shouldn’t get to either.

“What are you doing here?” Pat’s mother asked. The surprise was fading and Pran could see anger starting to take its place.

“I’m sorry,” Pran said, and he didn’t know if he was talking about Pat or his own existence. “I-I just heard the news.” Pat’s mother walked further into the room, and Pran took the chance to start edging towards the door. “So I-” Wanted to come by. Needed to see him. Had to prove that ghosts exist. “Wanted to come pay my respects.” That made it sound like Pat was dead.

“Pran,” Pat groaned, now standing next to his mother.

“He’s going to be fine,” she snapped and Pran winced.

“I know!” Clearly that was also the wrong thing to say as he saw her tense up. “I mean, Pat’s never been the type to let anything stop him.” Even being in a literal coma wasn’t going to stop him from making Pran’s life so much harder than it needed to be, apparently. “I hope he gets better soon.”

“Am I recovering from a cold?” Pat said. He was looking at Pran with a mixture of amusement and horror, and Pran resisted the urge to shoot him a glare. At least his mother looked confused again, instead of angry, and the door was tantalizingly close.

Pat’s mother looked at him, saying nothing. It was better than Pran had expected, honestly.

“Sorry,” he repeated. “I won’t bother you again.” And then the door was finally behind him and Pran tumbled through it. Hurriedly, he began to speed walk down the hospital corridors. Although it hadn’t looked like Pat’s mother was going to be coming after him, he really didn’t want to risk a public confrontation right now.

How the hell had he not even thought about Pat’s parents? Of course they were going to come visit their son. And of course it was Pran’s luck that it would be during the five minutes he was also here. It had been a stupid oversight and now, if Pat’s mother mentioned it to his mother it would be a whole thing that he would have to explain and Pran really didn’t want to think about how that conversation would go down.

So, mom, I know you wanted me to stay away from him but you see he’s been haunting me-

“Sorry about that,” Pat said and Pran nearly leapt out of his skin. 

“Stop doing that,” he hissed, digging into his pocket and bringing out his phone again to press it to his ear. He forced a smile at a passing nurse, and then turned to Pat. He’d been intent on glaring, but the contrite gaze that met him melted his irritation almost immediately. Not that Pat needed to know that. “Seriously. Give me some warning or something.”

“Maybe you should pay more attention,” Pat said, tilting his chin up arrogantly. Pran grumbled and turned away, but didn’t put his phone down.

“I pay plenty of attention. It’s not my fault you pop up where you’re not wanted.”

“Right. And where are we going, exactly?” Pat asked. Pran opened his mouth to respond, then hesitated and glanced around. In his hurry to leave Pat’s mother behind he must’ve taken a wrong turn, because he wasn’t actually sure where they’d ended up. His mouth clicked shut and he heard Pat snort beside him, trying not to laugh.

“I-” Pran started, trying to figure out how to salvage the situation. He turned around, trying to find a sign, and found himself once again face to face with Pat, who was grinning. Again. If his heart skipped a beat at the sudden proximity, Pran wasn’t going to share that.

“This way,” Pat said, gesturing to a bank of elevators. With a scowl, Pran walked over to them, ignoring Pat’s smirk as he did so. He pushed the button with violence and tried not to think about Pat standing so close to him. There were more important things to focus on.

Entering the elevator, Pran started to make a list in his head.

They had work to do.

Chapter Text

The trip back to the room was, ironically, much more lively. Pat had kept up a cheerful stream of chatter, mostly around a bar they’d passed that he’d only been to as a ghost and how he wanted to go back when he woke up. The casual confidence with which he made plans for the future was kind of reassuring, actually. And it had let Pran’s mind wander while he relaxed to the sound of Pat’s voice.

Pran couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to just listen to Pat.

As soon as they’d gotten back, however, Pran had gone into business mode. There were too many things he didn’t know and no time to waste. So he sat in a chair at the table and gestured for Pat to do the same. And then, when Pat looked mournfully at the chair, Pran had sighed and leaned over to push it out for him. Happily, Pat collapsed into it, and Pran narrowed his eyes.

“How does that work?” he asked. “You can’t touch it but you can sit in it?” Pat glanced down and then back up at Pran and shrugged.

“I don’t know if it technically counts as sitting in it,” Pat said. “I can’t feel it or anything. It’s more like habit.” 

“What can you feel?” Pran asked and felt an immediate stab of regret as Pat’s mouth twisted into a grimace.

“Not much,” Pat said.

“Oh.” Pran didn’t know what else to say. Despite having acknowledged that this was actually happening, it felt like the reality of it kept hitting him over and over again. Pat couldn’t feel things because, technically, he wasn’t actually here. This was just a projection of him or something and it couldn’t interact with the world.

Was that why he kept sneaking up on Pran too? There were no footsteps to warn of his approach, no breathing to let Pran know where he was, nothing that would give away Pat’s presence unless he made Pran aware of it. Now that he was paying attention to it, Pran could see how Pat moved through the world without really affecting it. Nothing reacted to his existence except for Pran himself.

“We could always test that, though!” Pat said and Pran realized Pat was leaning towards him hand outstretched. Instinctively, Pran pulled back, looking for something to swat at Pat’s hands with. As soon as Pran reacted, however, Pat stopped and chuckled. “Just teasing.”

“Quit it,” Pran grumbled, glad to see the bitter frown off of Pat’s face. “This is serious.”

“Yes sir, Mister Pran sir.” Pat sat up straight and snapped his hand up for a mocking salute.

“Alright, come on,” Pran snorted, trying not to sound like he was amused by the antics. The fact that he was smiling probably undercut it a bit.

“Ready when you are, sir!” Pat said, once again saluting. 

“Just-” Pran shook his head, forcing his mouth back into a frown. “Tell me what happened, okay?”

“Yes sir!” Pat exclaimed and Pran couldn’t help the laugh that burst from his mouth. As soon as he started laughing, Pat’s stiff persona melted and he grinned at Pran with obvious satisfaction.

“Fuck you, Pat,” Pran said, biting his lip and doing his best to force the amusement back down. “I’m serious!”

“Okay, okay!” Pat put his hands up in surrender. “Serious time.” He had the audacity to look a little offended when Pran scoffed, but Pran just gestured for him to continue. They’d already managed to get incredibly side tracked in the first thirty seconds of this conversation. “Seriously, though,” Pat said. “Didn’t Paa tell you what happened?”

“She said you got hurt at the lake,” Pran said and Pat nodded. “But I’m talking about how you ended up-” He paused, still not quite able to make himself say it out loud. “Like this.” Instead, Pran gestured to Pat and figured he’d get the hint.

“Right,” Pat said slowly. “I don’t really know, honestly.”

“You don’t know?” Pran repeated. 

“Yeah. I just kind of… woke up like this.” Pat shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “I don’t really remember much. I was at the lake and then I was at the hospital. The rest is kinda blank.”

“Okay,” Pran said, tapping his fingers on the table. This kind of put a hitch in his plans. In order to figure out what to do next, he needed to know what was actually going on, and he’d kind of assumed Pat would be able to tell him. “That’s it? No, like, flash of light or…” He trailed off, not entirely sure what he was asking.

“I didn’t get a guidebook to being dead, no,” Pat replied, clearly amused.

“You’re not dead.” The correction was absent minded as Pran gazed blankly at the wall. He had already been planning on doing his own research, but there was no way of telling which sources were accurate and which weren’t with this kind of thing. The fact that Pat couldn’t even really narrow it down was frustrating, to say the least. It felt like he’d been pitched into a cave without a flashlight and been told to find the way out.

“Have you tried waking up?” Pran said suddenly, looking back over at Pat. 

“No,” Pat drawled out sarcastically. “I love being invisible and intangible to everyone in my life. It’s super fun for me, so I figured I’d stay like this.”

“Sorry,” Pran said, wincing, and Pat looked surprised. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.” Pat grinned at him, his whole posture relaxing as he did so. “It’s fine. I did try, but I don’t know how. I don’t know why I’m not awake.”

“Mm…” Pran went back to tapping at the table, trying to think of the next course of action. “We should do some research.”

“Nerd,” Pat said and Pran rolled his eyes, biting back a fond smile.

“Actually knowing what we’re dealing with here would be kind of helpful,” he retorted.

“You seem pretty invested in this,” Pat said, leaning forward in his chair and waggling his eyebrows at Pran. “You know it’s not technically a ‘we’ problem.” He still sounded amused, but Pran frowned back at him. It was true that Pat hadn’t actually asked for his help, but what was he supposed to do? Just leave him like this? Pretend that everything was fine?

“It’s a ‘we’ problem so long as I’m the only one who can see you,” he said. That had to mean something, right? If Pat didn’t exist to the rest of the world, but did exist to Pran, it meant that Pran was important somehow. Then he squinted at Pat, suspicious. “I am the only one, right?”

“Yes, Pran, sir. You’re very special.” Leaning back again, Pat smirked at him, and Pran felt his face begin to burn.

“That’s not- I just meant-” The words got tangled up in Pran’s mouth, and he just knew he was going even redder when Pat started to laugh. Pran scowled at him and crossed his arms. “Asshole.” The anxiety that had started to build up receded in favor of fond annoyance, and Pran let out a huff. The noise just made Pat grin wider, clearly enjoying Pran’s discomfort. “I just wish we had a place to start, that’s all,” Pran grumbled.

“Oh!” Pran startled at Pat’s sudden exclamation, and then Pat was in his face, shining with excitement. “We can ask Nan’s wife! She knows a ton about this stuff.”

“Nan… from eighth grade?” Pran asked, confused. 

“No,” Pat snorted. “Not unless she aged sixty years and also died.”

“Died? This Nan is dead?” 

“How else would I talk to her?” Pat said, as if it was obvious.

“You didn’t think to mention that you have ghost friends?” Pran asked, incredulous. Pat shrugged a little, and Pran debated the merits of trying to smack him despite being unable to touch him.

“Just Nan!” Pat protested. “And I only met her a couple weeks ago. And I’ve never talked to her wife, so I didn’t think of it.”

“You haven’t talked to her?” Pran said. 

“She’s still alive,” Pat said nonchalantly. “You could ask her about this stuff, though.” 

“You want me to visit your dead friend’s wife to ask her about ghosts?” It was hard to pinpoint which part of that request felt the weirdest, actually. 

“Yeah,” Pat said cheerfully. “She’s outta town til Friday so it'll have to be after that.” 

“Okay,” Pran said. “Fucking hell. Okay.” With a deep sigh, Pran tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Sure. Why not?” This wasn’t even the strangest thing that had happened today. At least he’d be talking to a living person. Not that Pat wasn’t living, of course. “Just gonna go visit some random lady and ask her to tell me about ghosts.”

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry about it,” Pat said, still sounding overly casual about the whole damn thing.

“You know that’s impossible for me,” Pran groaned. The sound of Pat laughing was gratifying enough to make him feel a little bit better, at least.

“They’re kind of weird, so I don’t think you’re gonna be the first person to come around asking about ghosts,” Pat said and Pran just groaned again.

“That is not as reassuring as you think it is,” he mumbled. “Can you at least tell me where the hell I’m gonna be going?”

“They’re not too far from our neighborhood, actually!” Pat said and Pran nodded, still staring at the ceiling.

“I have to have dinner with my parents next weekend anyway,” Pran said. That would be efficient, at least. Although the dinner itself could be a whole other thing to deal with, if Pat’s mom had decided to say something to his parents. It wasn’t like he’d even done anything wrong. He’d known Pat his whole life. Was it really so weird to want to visit him when he was sick? Rivals or not, it was polite. Couldn’t Pran just be polite without it starting another world war?

“So,” Pat said, drawing out the world until Pran relented and turned his gaze away from the ceiling to look at him. “Guess that leaves us the rest of the week.” With a scoff, Pran looked away again to hide his grin. “What are we gonna do?”

“I’m going to class tomorrow,” Pran replied. “You can do whatever you want, I guess.”

“Great! I’ll come with you then,” Pat said and Pran snapped his head back to stare at him. Apparently unbothered, Pat smiled at him.

“You are not coming to my classes with me,” Pran said as firmly as he could.

“Aww,” Pat whined. “Why not?” 

“You’ll just distract me!” Intentionally or not, that was always true when Pat was around.

“I won’t!” Pat protested. He inched closer to Pran, batting his eyes pleadingly. “I’ll be good.”

“Gross,” Pran said, turning away to hide the way his cheeks had started to flush again. That expression was going to haunt his fucking dreams, he just knew it. “No. Go away.”

“Can’t I at least stay here tonight, then?” Pat asked, and Pran knew if he turned back he’d be faced with another pout. There was absolutely no way he could go a whole night with Pat acting like this. It just wasn’t possible.

“Do you even need to sleep?” Pran said.

“I can!”

“That’s not what I asked,” Pran replied. “Go sleep in your own bed.”

“But it’s way more fun being here with you.” Pran was grateful he’d already turned away, because he couldn’t stop himself from grinning at that comment. Carefully, he cleared his throat and pushed away the swelling affection that was weakening his resolve.

“I have class in the morning, Pat!” 

“Then let me go with you.”

“Why do you even want to go to my classes?” Pran asked. “I doubt you were supposed to go into architecture.”

“Nah,” Pat said. “I’m in engineering.”

“Then go to those ones.” Of course he was in engineering, the faculty that all of Pran’s friends hated. If Pat wasn’t unconscious, he’d probably be getting into fights with Wai and making it impossible to hang out even at school. Not that they would hang out. This was only happening because of extenuating circumstances.

“I was going,” Pat said, sighing loudly, and Pran couldn’t help but look back at him in surprise. “But it’s boring. No one knows I’m there.” 

That made sense. Pat had never been the type to enjoy learning alone. Even back in grade school he’d always made friends with the students sitting around him, sharing notes and helping each other with homework. Pran remembered being irritated by it, at first, how little Pat seemed to care about class but still managed to keep up with him. It wasn’t until high school that he realized that that was how Pat learned. It wasn’t enough to sit and hear someone explain it to him, he always needed to talk it through. Pat always needed to talk about everything, actually.

“Fine,” Pran relented and Pat immediately perked up, eyes wide in surprise. “You can go to class with me tomorrow if-” He pointed a finger at Pat, who nodded eagerly. “You leave me alone tonight. And if you get me in trouble at all, it’s never happening again.”

“I won’t!” Pat said, beaming. With a shake of his head, Pran stood up. If he was smiling as well, then neither of them commented on it.

“Now get out of my room. I need to go to bed,” Pran said, waving his hands in Pat’s direction. This was definitely going to be a terrible idea, but at least he’d get a break to reorient himself before dealing with Pat all day.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Pat said with a wave. 

And then he flickered out of existence. The warmth that had settled into Pran’s chest chilled, and he stared at the spot where Pat had been. Once again he’d managed to forget that this wasn’t normal. Pat wouldn’t be here, in Pran’s room, begging for Pran’s time, if he had any other choice. It was just that Pran was the only option and, for someone like Pat, it was better than nothing.

When Pat woke up, would he remember any of this? Would he even care about it?

Except that Pran knew that all of these thoughts were coming from the angry, bitter part of him, the part that blamed Pat for making Pran like him so damn much. In reality, Pat was probably thrilled that someone could see him, and not at all bothered that it was Pran. And when he did wake up, Pat was more likely to decide he owed Pran and try to worm his way even more into his life than treat him like he was disposable. 

And that was the fucking problem, wasn’t it? Pat was warm and kind and funny, and in high school he’d been just as willing to work with Pran as he had been to compete against him, and even when he was being annoying he still managed to make Pran smile. So how could Pran hate him like he was supposed to? How could Pran keep himself safe when Pat walked through every defense he had like it was nothing? Pat was a menace, and Pran liked him so much it sometimes felt like he was drowning in it, and it was impossible for him to do anything about any of it.

These were all old thoughts, well worn and repetitive. He liked Pat and he could never act on it and if only Pat had been more hateable his life would’ve been so much easier. None of that was Pat’s fault and none of it was Pat’s problem either. Thinking about it now, when Pat needed him for entirely different reasons, was only going to lead to trouble. Pran needed to focus on the things that actually could change, instead of wasting time on pointless feelings.

Pran took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. He’d been planning on at least trying some research tonight, but he found himself suddenly exhausted. A shower, and then bed. Tomorrow he would put all of this back in the box and shove it to the back of his mind and he would put his energy into helping Pat wake up.

-

When the morning came, Pran was slightly surprised to find that Pat wasn’t there. It was earlier than Pat usually liked to get up but given how clingy he’d been last night, Pran had half expected to wake up to Pat already in his room. It was mostly a relief to be able to go through his morning routine without interruption, and the slight surge of disappointment was easily ignored.

With a final glance at his watch, Pran headed for the door. If Pat wasn’t going to show up on time that wasn’t his problem. He had classes to get to.

The idea of worrying about Pat didn’t occur to him until he returned to an empty dorm that night. He’d been so excited about the idea of going to class with Pran, and as flaky as Pat could be, not even coming to apologize for forgetting wasn’t like him. Without thinking, Pran pulled out his phone and opened up his chat app. His fingers froze over the buttons, however, as he realized that he had no way of getting into contact with Pat. He didn’t even have a way to confirm that Pat was- but, no. Paa had promised to message him if anything changed.

It was probably nothing. Pat had forgotten, or gotten distracted by something, and at some point he’d pop back in and pout until Pran forgave him. Until then, Pran could at least try and do some research. 

The research was difficult without Pat there to ask about which things sounded true and which didn’t, but Pran pushed through regardless. It would give him something to yell at Pat about when he finally turned up. 

When Pat still hadn’t appeared by the next morning, Pran’s worry curdled into outright fear. Was Pat actually not real after all, and Pran had just tricked himself? Had something happened and Paa had forgotten to text him? Had Pat decided to just give up?

“Are you okay?” Wai asked and Pran jumped, glancing around. The classroom around him was slowly emptying out, and he was sitting in front of an open notebook with absolutely zero notes inside. Shit. Pran slammed it shut and stood up, hurriedly organizing his pens so he could shove them back into his bag.

“I’m tired,” he said. “Didn’t sleep well last night.” It wasn’t even a lie, really. He’d tossed and turned the whole night, trying to convince himself that Pat was fine.

“Mhm.” Wai didn’t seem convinced and for a moment Pran tensed, wondering if he was going to have to come up with something better. “You wanna borrow my notes later?”

“That would be great,” Pran said, relaxing. “Thanks.” Wai nodded and moved aside, letting Pran escape from the seats and head out into the hall. That had at least been the last class of the day, but now he had nothing to distract him. The prospect of returning to his empty room to just sit and wait, again, made Pran shudder. He turned to Wai, holding out a hand to stop him. “How about some noodles?”

“Your treat?” Wai asked with a grin and Pran nodded. “Then let’s go!”

-

Pran poked at his noodles, frowning into the bowl. Wai had taken off fifteen minutes ago for work and now Pran was just putting off the inevitable. It wasn’t like sitting here was any better than sitting in his room. And he had homework to do. Pat was really fucking with his schedule. 

Where was he?

“Pran?” A voice came from just beside him and Pran looked up to see a young woman smiling down at him.

“Ink?” he said and she laughed.

“Did I surprise you that much?” she asked, putting her bowl down and settling into the chair opposite him. “I’ve been here for five minutes and you haven’t looked up even once.”

“Ah…” Pran shifted in his seat and glanced around, wondering what else he’d missed. “I’ve got some stuff on my mind.”

“I figured.” For a moment there was quiet as Ink broke apart her chopsticks and began mixing up her noodles.

“So!” Pran said, belatedly remembering that he was supposed to be polite. “How have you been? It’s been a while.”

“Years!” Ink replied and Pran made a face at the reminder. “Sorry, sorry,” Ink said. “I don’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“It’s fine.” There was no avoiding the fact that Pran had been forced to transfer not too long after Ink had gotten there, after all. “Are you still taking pictures?”

“Mm!” Ink nodded, swallowing a mouthful of noodles before continuing. “Yeah. I’m in the journalism club now, actually.”

“Sounds exciting,” Pran said, smiling at Ink’s answering eye roll.

“It’s a lot of taking pictures of other faculty’s events,” she said. “And some of them can be so annoying. But I like what I do.” Pran nodded and Ink took a moment to scoop a dumpling into her mouth, before sitting back and looking at him. “Which faculty are you in?”

“Architecture,” Pran said. “It’s not bad. A lot of history classes.”

“Right, the most fun topic,” Ink replied teasingly and Pran laughed. He didn’t mind the history, really, but some of the teachers could afford to make their lectures a little more interesting. “What about Pat?”

“Pat?” Pran stiffened and glanced around. There was no one around to listen in on them, but he still couldn’t quite relax. “What do you mean?”

“He was supposed to go here too, right?” Ink asked. “I heard he got into some kind of accident.” Of course Ink would know about it. She’d been Pat’s friend, unlike Pran, and she was the kind of girl Pat’s family would approve of. She'd probably seen it on social media, or had someone tell her, because people would know that she cared about Pat. A stab of nostalgic envy lanced through Pran, although it faded just as quickly. 

“Right. Yeah. He’s, uh, in the hospital still.” Pran did his best to keep his voice even, although he couldn’t help but look back down at his now soggy noodles while he spoke. In an attempt to keep his expression from betraying him, Pran shoved some in his mouth.

“That sucks,” Ink said and she sounded sympathetic. “I know you two were close before you got transferred.” Pran inhaled sharply and started coughing, choking on the broth that had gone down his throat. “Pran!” A moment later, he felt Ink patting his back and saw her pushing a glass of water in front of his eyes. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Pran said weakly, grabbing the glass and drinking some of the water. “Really,” he added, looking up to see Ink still hovering around him. “I’m fine.” After a brief hesitation, Ink nodded and moved back to her own seat. There was another long moment of silence as Pran drained the rest of his glass, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to say next.

“Have you spoken to his sister at all?” Ink said, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah. She’s upset but she’s dealing with it in her own way.” The only way Paa ever did anything, of course.

“Must be hard for her,” Ink said and Pran nodded. “You should look out for her.” At this, Ink pointed her chopsticks at Pran commandingly.

“Ah, well…” Pran rubbed the back of his neck. He did want to support Paa, of course he did. But he also didn’t want to get her in trouble. In the face of Ink’s chopsticks, however, that reasoning felt weak. “I’ll do my best.” At the very least he could treat her to lunch or something. Paa’s parents wouldn’t have to know. And he’d missed her.

“Make sure to tell her she can come to me if you aren’t treating her right,” Ink replied and Pran laughed. “A little sister deserves to be indulged.” 

“I don’t think she needs you to tell her that,” Pran said, grinning. Paa had never been afraid to beg and pout for what she wanted, weaponizing her big eyes and cute face. Although Pran would never say it to him, he was pretty sure she got that from Pat.

It occurred to him that he could probably tell Ink that. She’d probably find it funny. It wouldn’t be a big deal to talk about Pat or Paa or how well he really knew them. Instead it would just be a normal conversation about mutual friends.

“You should take my chat ID,” Ink said and Pran glanced down to see her pushing her phone towards him. “Make sure to give it to Paa, too.”

“Oh, so that’s why you want me to have it,” Pran joked, pulling out his own phone. “I see, I see.”

“Teasing me already!” Ink pressed a hand to her chest dramatically. “It’s like no time has passed at all.” It really did feel like just yesterday that he’d met Ink for the first time. She’d been just as confident back then, sure of herself and what she wanted. Maybe that was why Pat had been so obviously drawn to her. Pran couldn’t deny that she was fun to be around.

“Just like old times,” Pran agreed.

-

Dinner with Ink had been more distracting than Pran had realized. It was late by the time he’d gotten back to his room, and he’d had to stay up even later to actually get his homework done. Still, he didn’t regret it. Talking with Ink had kept his thoughts from spiraling, and his homework had taken so long that he hadn’t had any time left to worry before passing out.

In the morning, however, Pran found his anxieties returning with a vengeance. He stared into his mirror blindly, trying to figure out what to do. He could try and message Paa, or maybe visit the hospital again. Much more carefully, this time. If Pat wasn’t there, and Paa had no news… 

With a frustrated sigh, Pran turned away from his mirror and grabbed his bag. He swung open his door and stepped right into Pat’s smiling face.

“Morning!” Pat said and Pran stumbled back, catching himself on the doorway.

“What the hell?” Pran snapped, and Pat looked confused. “Where have you been?”

“You told me to go home,” Pat said petulantly.

“Not for two days, Pat!” Pran replied. He’d been worried sick, and here Pat was, popping up and saying hi like nothing was wrong. 

“Two days?” Pat looked confused, and Pran’s anger started to cool off into concern. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been gone for two days is what I’m talking about. What the hell happened?” Pran glanced down the hall and backed further into his room, gesturing for Pat to follow. Still looking confused, Pat obeyed.

“I just went to sleep,” Pat said doubtfully. “Two days? Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty damn sure, Pat, yeah.” Pran looked Pat over. He didn’t seem any different than usual. He just looked lost and a little tired, like he’d just woken up. It was startlingly similar to the first time he’d seen him since returning home, actually. “You really didn’t know?” Pat shook his head and Pran swallowed. 

“I’m sorry,” Pat said. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I wasn’t-” The lie was instinctive, but Pran cut himself off. It didn’t matter either way. “You just went to sleep and missed two days?”

“I guess.” 

“Does this happen often?”

“I… I don’t know.” Pat was starting to look more and more concerned, and Pran could sympathize. The worry that had vanished on finally seeing Pat was returning. “I haven’t really been keeping track of time but I thought, y’know, every day was just the same so it didn’t matter.” Pat’s brow was furrowed, and he was looking down at his hands like he thought they might disappear. Pran hesitated, then sighed.

“Well. Now we know, I guess,” he said, and Pat looked up at him with wide eyes. “Just. It’s fine. Come on, I have to get to class. We can talk about it later.”

“I can still come?” Pat asked and even if Pran had been planning on saying no, the cautiously hopeful look on Pat's face would’ve changed his mind.

“Yeah, yeah,” Pran grumbled. “Remember. No distracting me, and no getting me in trouble.” 

Pran headed back for his door, filing the memory of Pat’s blinding smile away for later. 

“Can we go somewhere fun afterward?” Pat asked, chasing after him, and Pran pressed his lips together to stop a grin.

“No,” he snapped, already considering where he could let Pat convince him to go.

Together, they walked out the door.

Chapter Text

“I just don’t understand why it’s so important what a bunch of old architects already did,” Pat said, once again talking directly into Pran’s ear. He wasn’t sure how the hell Pat managed to do that without accidentally touching him but it was wreaking havoc on his nervous system. It was also incredibly hard to ignore, which was inconvenient since Pran was currently in the middle of a lecture hall filled with other students and he couldn’t exactly tell Pat to fuck off. The teacher had been talking about a temple built centuries ago and Pran had actually been pretty invested in it until Pat had decided he’d had enough of being quiet.

It had taken longer than Pran expected, in the end. This was the third class of the day and Pat had been weirdly attentive during the first two. Pran probably should’ve realized he was running the clock out on Pat’s patience, but he’d let himself get lulled into a false sense of security. And now he was paying the price with a vice grip on his pencil, trying desperately not to react to the fact that Pat was leaning through the desk next to him in order to whisper into his ear. Mostly he was grateful that there was no one sitting there because Pran wasn’t sure he could’ve kept it together if Pat started phasing through people in the middle of class.

With a quick glance to the side to make sure Wai (known to Pat as ‘the asshole who flipped me off’ apparently) was sufficiently distracted by the lesson, Pran flipped to a new page in his notebook and scribbled something down before angling it for Pat to see.

It’s about learning from the past.

“But aren’t you making new things?” Pat asked, still torturously close. If Pat had actually been here, Pran would’ve been able to feel his breath on his neck. The thought alone was enough to make him squirm in his seat.

You can’t make something new without knowing what worked and what didn’t in the old.

There was a brief pause and then Pat hummed in acknowledgment, and Pran had to fight every instinct in him saying to lean closer to the sound.

Why are you so close? You said you wouldn’t distract me.

“Sorry,” Pat said, not sounding sorry at all. It took all of Pran’s self control not to look over at him just to see how he was smiling. And he was; smiling. Pran could hear it in his voice. “I was curious.” Another beat and then- “You’re smart. This architecture stuff is hard.” Pran snorted, and then froze when Wai sent him a confused look. Quickly he reached into his bag and pulled out a water bottle, holding it up with a shrug. Wai nodded and turned to pay attention once more. Pran waited until it seemed like he was reinvested in class, then frowned down at his paper.

You’re two months behind on classes, of course it doesn’t make sense to you. Now be quiet.

It took a couple moments before Pran realized that, unexpectedly, Pat was actually going to be quiet. He pushed through a minute of silence before the urge to look at him was too strong and Pran snuck a peak. Pat was sitting back in the desk, arms crossed in front of him, and by all appearances paying close attention to the lecture. It had been like this all damn morning. It wasn’t that Pran didn’t know Pat was smart, or a good student. Their GPAs had been damn near identical before he transferred, and there had been a couple occasions where they’d studied together. Pran knew that Pat was intelligent and could pay attention in class. He just hadn’t expected him to care enough about Architectural History to try.

When the teacher finally wrapped up class, Pran stood, rolling his neck to get the cricks out. Next to him, Wai was also standing, while Safe and Louis stretched in their seats. Pran had a full hour before his last class, and then he’d be done.

“What’s next?” Pat asked, still sitting in the desk. Pran could only see him out of his peripheral vision and, with another quick glance to make sure his friends weren’t paying attention, he pulled out his phone. This time, opening the notes app and pointedly typing on it. It only took a second for Pat to get the hint and hop up, leaning over Pran’s shoulder to look at what he was writing.

Going to study in the library before my last class.

The library was closer to the building his lecture was in, and he wanted to get as much homework done now as he could so he’d have more time for Pat later.

For research purposes. Obviously.

“You’re not even gonna go get lunch?” Pat said.

I’ll eat when I get home.

“You can study while you have lunch.”

You can meet me back in the room if you’re bored bu

“I’m not bored,” Pat said, and Pran’s fingers stilled in surprise. “You just haven’t eaten since this morning.” Pran stared blankly at his phone while his brain grinded over what Pat had just said. Not being able to look at him was feeling like a cosmic punishment at this point. “Come on,” Pat whined, apparently having decided Pran was taking too long to respond. “The library is boring!”

Are you going to be annoying about it if I do go to the library?

“Absolutely,” Pat said and Pran didn’t need to be looking at him to picture the smug grin he was wearing.

Trick question. You’re always annoying.

Pat let out a bark of laughter and Pran felt satisfaction simmer through him at the sound. It wouldn’t be too bad to study at the cafeteria instead. He was kind of hungry.

“Who are you texting?” Safe asked. Pran locked his phone and looked up to see all three of his friends trying to peer at his screen.

“No one,” Pran said with absolutely no defensiveness.

“You were smiling,” Louis said, leaning on Safe’s shoulder and grinning. “Is this ‘no one’ cute?”

“No.” Pat let out an offended squawk and Pran forced himself not to laugh at it. Instead, he cleared his throat and picked up his bag, glaring at his so-called friends. “It’s just a friend.”

“Really?” Wai, the traitor, leaned in closer and squinted at Pran’s face. “Because it looks to me like you’re blushing.”

“Y’know, I think I’m warming up to him,” Pat said and Pran watched with horror as he popped into existence just behind Safe and Louis, leaning on one of the desks.

“Besides,” Safe added. “All your friends are here.” Pat didn’t even try to hold back his laughter at that and Pran could feel his face burning. Screw trying to help Pat. He was going to kill all of them and spend the rest of his life in jail and not regret it a bit.

“I have other friends!” Pran protested, shoving at Wai to get him to back up. “Much better friends.”

“Right,” Louis said. “And you were just texting one of them. Definitely not flirting.”

“I am leaving.” Pran pushed past Wai, Safe, and Louis, and glared directly at Pat. “You’re all terrible people.” Oozing smug satisfaction, Pat stepped to the side with an overdramatic flourish, letting Pran hurry past him and towards the door.

“Going to meet your friend?” Safe called out, and Pran flipped them off as he went. Pran left the classroom to the sounds of his friends' laughter behind him, and Pat’s laughter right next to him.

“Oh, shut up,” Pran grumbled, which only made Pat chuckle again.

“Your friends are fun,” he said and Pran scowled.

“They just like to tease me.” Pran turned and narrowed his eyes at Pat. “Don’t listen to them.”

“Ignore them. Got it.” Pat grinned and Pran felt his stomach swoop as he leaned in just a little bit closer. “But y’know, dimples, if that’s your idea of flirting, you need practice.”

“I was not-” Pran started, and then realized how loud his voice had gotten. He glanced around to see a passing student staring at him, and grimaced as she quickly walked away. Pulling out his phone again to press it to his ear, Pran turned back to Pat. “As if you know anything about flirting.”

“Hey!” Pat said, looking offended. “I am great at-”

“Pran?”

“Ink?” Pat said, and Pran turned, dropping his phone to his side, to see Ink approaching.

“Ink!” Pran said with a smile. She had a camera bag hanging off her shoulder and she smiled back at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking pictures for an event,” Ink said, patting the bag.

“Ink goes here?” Pat said. “That’s awesome! Tell her I say hi.” 

“You really end up all over campus for your club, huh?” Pran said, ignoring the way Pat frowned.

“Every faculty needs photographers.” Ink grinned at him. “I was hoping to see you, actually.”

“Hoping to see you?” Pat was now leaning over directly into Pran’s eyeline and raised his eyebrows. When they had a moment, Pran was really going to need to tell Pat to stop commentating on his conversations. It was getting kind of hard to ignore.

“You were?” Pran said, doing his best to seem like he was paying full attention to Ink.

“Yeah. I was going to go visit Pat at the hospital and I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

“What? No!” Pat said, as Pran swallowed hard. “She can’t come visit me, I look terrible!” And immediately he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, tension bleeding away from his shoulders. Was that really what Pat cared about?

“I already visited him,” Pran said, truthfully. He didn’t include that he was still kind of waiting for the fallout from that visit and didn’t think adding on another was a great idea. 

“Are you sure?” Ink asked and Pran nodded, putting on a smile.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m sure he’d be happy if you went, though,” Pran said.

“No!” Pat groaned and Pran again had to stop himself from smirking. That was also an inconvenient side effect of Pat interjecting himself into every interaction. 

“Alright,” Ink said. “But we should still hang out sometime. No getting out of that.” 

“Okay, okay. I promise I’ll make time for it.” Between school and ghost shenanigans, getting to do something normal sounded pretty great.

“I gotta get going,” Ink said, swinging her bag back up onto her shoulder. “Don’t forget to tell Paa I said hi.”

“I won’t,” Pran replied, grinning. “See you later.”

He watched as Ink walked off, letting himself ignore Pat’s pouting face for as long as he could.

“Pran,” Pat whined, breaking his concentration almost instantly. “She’s gonna see me looking terrible.”

“I don’t think she’ll hold it against you,” Pran said drily.

“Still though.” Pat looked over at Ink’s rapidly disappearing figure and Pran thought he looked a little wistful. “It’s too bad I can’t talk to her. I haven’t seen Ink since graduation.”

“You can say hi when you wake up,” Pran said, his grip tightening around his phone even as he brought it back up to his ear.

“Mm.” Finally, Pat looked back at Pran and his expression morphed into another bright smile. “Guess you’ll hafta deal with me ‘til then.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pran said. “Hurry up so you can leave me alone, then.” Pat laughed and leaned in towards Pran, a hand coming up to point at his face.

“You’ll miss me when I can’t hang around all the time,” he teased and Pran jerked his head back, rolling his eyes even as he smiled.

“Yeah, right. Aren’t we supposed to be getting lunch?” Pran turned away, shoving his hands into his pocket and starting off towards the cafeteria.

“Fine,” Pat said and then, from much closer, he spoke again. “Let’s go see a movie after your last class.”

“Who said we’re going anywhere?” Pran asked, glancing over to see Pat pouting again.

“Come on! I’ll help you with your homework!” Pat said and Pran snorted.

“You won’t be any help at all,” he pointed out and Pat made a face at him.

“I won’t distract you from your homework?” he offered instead and Pran made an interested hum. That was definitely a tempting offer. A little ridiculous since Pat’s mere presence was a distraction, but Pat didn’t need to know that. “It’s been ages since I’ve been able to go do something with someone,” Pat added. “Two months, apparently.”

“Apparently?”

“That’s what you said, right? I’m two months behind on classes.” Pat made a vague gesture towards Pran’s bag to indicate the notebook and Pran nodded absently. He had said that, he just hadn’t realized it was news for Pat.

“You didn’t know?” 

“I’ve been sleeping a lot,” Pat said with a shrug. It was impossible to know how much time he’d lost, Pran realized. Even if it was only a couple days whenever Pat closed his eyes, that still added up to a lot. Pat stretched his arms up and settled them behind his head, glancing over at Pran and chuckling. “It’s fine. Not like I needed to keep any appointments.” 

The silence stretched over them. Pat seemed fine, but Pran felt the familiar twisting of worry in his gut. There was no way Pat was actually just okay with losing time, but he didn’t seem to want to talk about it. 

Pran glanced around again. They were walking across the campus, talking to each other, and no one was looking. With his phone out to give an excuse, Pran could say whatever he wanted to Pat and it wouldn’t be a big deal. No weird stares, no fear of someone mentioning it to either of their parents. Just the two of them, together, in public.

“What movie do you want to see?” Pran asked, and the smile that bloomed on Pat’s face was worth throwing off his schedule. Again.

–

“That was way more fun than going by myself,” Pat said brightly. The movie had been unmemorable. Or maybe Pran had just been distracted by Pat leaning over to whisper comments in his ear every couple of minutes. Comments that had had him laughing at parts that were definitely not supposed to be comedic, which had gotten him weird stares from other people and pleased grins from Pat.

“You talk too much,” Pran said. He should’ve expected Pat to be the kind of person to talk during movies. Being unheard by everyone else had probably just given him even more freedom to whisper to Pran as much as he wanted. 

“But you didn’t tell me to shut up,” Pat pointed out and Pran scowled, closing the door to his dorm behind him. 

“There were too many people around.” It was a lame excuse and Pran knew it sounded that way too.

“Sure.” Pat was grinning, undimmed by Pran’s justifications. Pran made a face at him but Pat only laughed. In an attempt to ignore the warmth that spread through him at the sound, Pran moved over to his desk.

“Can we do some actual work now?” he asked.

“What work?” Pat said. “I’m dead, I don’t have any work.”

“You’re not dead,” Pran retorted. “And I did some research while you were slacking off-”

“Accidentally slacking off.”

“I did some research,” Pran repeated forcefully. “And I wanted to see if any of it seems right to you.” 

“I really don’t know how much help I’m going to be,” Pat said doubtfully and Pran sighed in frustration.

“You are literally the only reliable resource I have on this,” he said and Pat held up his hands.

“Alright, alright!” The conciliatory expression on Pat’s face only lasted a moment before it turned into another playful smirk. “What questions do you have, my student?”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s not a question.”

“You’re so annoying,” Pran grumbled.

“Now, is that any way to talk to your teacher?” Pat replied with a stern expression. Pran pressed his lips together and shook his head, choking back laughter.

“Pat, I swear-”

“Aww, I can see your dimples!” And now Pat was moving towards him, pointing at his cheeks with a huge grin. Pran turned away, feeling himself begin to flush even as he did.

“No you can’t. Shut up.”

“Yes I can!” Pat exclaimed, popping around the other side of Pran’s chair. “So cute!” Pran twisted away again, trying to frown against the honey welling up in the back of his throat.

“Can we focus?” he snapped and Pat laughed, the sound carefree and delighted.

“I’m very focused!” Finally, Pran turned back to face Pat, schooling his expression into something approaching serious. 

“Pat!” he said, injecting as much disapproval into the word as he could. Pat fell back, sitting cross legged on the floor and grinning up at Pran.

“Fine, fine,” Pat said, although he still sounded on the verge of laughter. And then he squinted, tilting his head back. “What were we talking about?”

“My research,” Pran reminded him and Pat nodded eagerly. “Like I was trying to say, I looked stuff up but most of it seems focused on appeasing spirits or getting rid of them.”

“I like the appeasing thing,” Pat said. “Maybe you need to make offerings to me.” 

“Are offerings going to help you wake up?” Pran asked skeptically.

“They might,” Pat said, leaning forward to rest his chin in his hands. 

“Or I could just exorcise you.” It was an empty threat, Pran didn’t even know how to do that, but Pat frowned at him anyway.

“Can we stick with the thing where you give me alcohol and snacks?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Pran said, tapping a finger on his chin and watching as Pat perked up.

“Really?”

“Although we don’t know if offerings would even work for you. It’s not like you’re a real spirit.”

“Hey!” Pat straightened up, looking affronted. “I’m very real!”

“But you’re not dead,” Pran replied. “You’re just unconscious. So the rules might work differently for you.”

“There weren’t any stories about ghosts of living people?” Pat asked.

“There’s some,” Pran said. “But not a lot of solutions. Most of them seem to assume you have some kind of control over it.”

“I mean, we might as well try anything, right? Something’s gotta work,” Pat said and Pran bit his tongue. It was true that throwing solutions at Pat might shift something, but it was equally true that it could go disastrously bad. The stakes were way too high for Pran to feel comfortable with that.

“I don’t want to try anything until I talk to your friend,” he said, instead of the list of worries unspooling in his mind.

“Her wife,” Pat reminded him and Pran nodded.

“Either way. Just in case, we should wait.”  Pat groaned and flopped backwards, now laying on Pran’s floor.

“Fine,” he said with a distinct disgruntled tone to his voice.

“It’s just a few days,” Pran said, resisting the urge to try and poke Pat with his foot. He wondered, briefly, how many times Pat had to remind himself not to touch Pran per day, and then quickly put a stop to that train of thought. It was heading nowhere good. “Don’t be grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Pat said grumpily. 

“If you don’t stop whining you’re not coming to classes with me tomorrow,” Pran threatened and Pat’s head popped up immediately, a pout already forming.

“You shouldn’t be so mean to the dead!”

“You’re not dead!”

–

Against all odds, Pran managed to wrangle Pat into something like a routine over the next couple days. It seemed like all Pat wanted to do was bother him, but whenever Pran asked he would disappear with a sigh and a pout. The very fact that he could get Pat to leave him alone also meant that Pran didn’t ask nearly as much as he probably should have. In fact, they spent nearly all their time together. Pat would wait outside his door in the mornings, letting Pran do his waking up routine in peace, and accompany him to class. And then in the evenings, Pat would wait around for Pran to finish his homework and then the two of them would watch something. Pran was still finding it hard to concentrate with Pat sitting next to him, shouting commentary at the TV, but he had to admit it was fun. 

Of course it was fun.

And then, when Pran needed to go to bed, he would shoo Pat away, and Pat would smile and wish him a goodnight before disappearing, leaving Pran with his heart in his throat and his nerves buzzing with adrenaline.

The weekend came almost too quickly with all of that. Maybe it was because Pran was so used to having to take moments with Pat in quick flashes, grabbing on to what little he had before it slipped away. Now, though, Pat was always there, laughing and smiling and whispering into Pran’s ear. And he would stop if Pran asked him to, Pran knew he would, but somehow he never quite got around to asking. So the minutes bled into hours bled into days and now Pran had to go home and Pat was sitting on his bed, watching Pran pack things into his bag like it was normal. Like spending all their time together was perfectly average instead of a dangerous habit for Pran to get into.

Then again, what did it matter? It wasn’t like any of this was real. Pat wasn’t even real, not really. He was in a hospital, and this new routine only existed because Pran had decided to try and help. When things went back to normal, when Pat woke up, would it really hurt to have these moments tucked away in the back of his mind?

“Do you really need all your pencils?” Pat asked, head tilted to the side as he watched Pran organize his art supplies.

“Yes.” Probably not. He wasn’t even going to have much time for drawing, he just liked to be prepared. Pat just nodded, accepting the answer without further question.

The silence lingered as Pran finished gathering up his stuff. He was aware of the way his gaze kept darting over to Pat, but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop. Pat just looked back at him, apparently content to wait. And, finally, the question weighing on his mind managed to trip off his tongue.

“What are you going to do?” Pran asked.

“Mm?” Pat blinked at him and Pran ran a hand through his hair.

“While I’m with my parents,” he clarified. “What are you going to do?” They hadn’t exactly talked about it, but Pran figured it was obvious that Pat wasn’t going to be spending the weekend with him.

“Probably go see what Paa is up to. Or my parents.” Pat grinned suddenly. “Unless you want me to hang out at your place.” The sudden mental image of Pat sitting between him and his mom at the dinner table struck Pran like a bag of wet sand.

“No,” he choked out. That was definitely not safe for him. “Definitely not a good idea.”

“Why not?” It was lucky the question was so obviously teasing, or Pran might’ve thrown something at Pat. “It’s not like your mom could kick me out.”

“I’m sure she’d find a way,” Pran said. 

“She’d hafta know I was there first.”

“I can see you,” Pran pointed out. “Who’s to say my parents can’t too?”

“They never did before.”

“Wait.” Pran turned to look at Pat, letting his bag thunk to the floor. “When were you around my parents?”

“You literally saw me in your bed,” Pat replied, unashamed, and Pran could feel himself start to burn at the implications of that comment.

“So you’d just wander around my house?” Pran said, attempting to focus on indignation instead of other, much less useful emotions.

“No,” Pat said. “Just your room. But your mom came in to dust pretty much every day.” Pat frowned. “Seriously. I think she vacuums more in a week than I ever have in my life.”

“I think that says a lot more about you than my mom,” Pran replied. Pat laughed, shrugging, and Pran once again needed to distract himself. “But, seriously, what were you doing in my room?”

“I like your room,” Pat said and the sheer simplicity of the statement struck Pran dumb. “It’s nice. And it reminded me of you.” 

Something in Pran wanted to melt at the words, wanted to lean over towards Pat and do something terribly stupid. The other part of him, the part that was well versed in holding back stupid impulses, kept a tight grip on the reins and forced Pran to straighten up.

“What, did you miss me that much?” he said and it was only through sheer force of will that the words came off as a joke rather than a genuine question. For a brief, heart stopping moment, Pat met Pran's gaze and it felt like he was looking right through him, like Pat had to be able to see what Pran was thinking because it felt like everything in him was screaming it. And then Pat laughed, head tilting back just enough to break eye contact, and when he looked again his gaze slid past Pran to the desk.

“You’re running late,” Pat said and Pran whirled around to look at his clock. Shit. He had been planning on leaving five minutes ago, but Pat had distracted him. 

“This is your fault,” Pran said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and pointing accusingly at Pat. The man just stared back at him, grinning broadly.

“Have fun at home,” Pat sing-songed. The mocking tone melted away as he continued, though. “I’ll see you tomorrow so we can go to Nan’s?”

“Yeah,” Pran replied. “Tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

“Of course not.” And Pat, once again, disappeared like he’d never been there at all. Pran stood there in his empty room, feeling lonely.

And then he glanced at the time again and bolted for the door, mentally cursing Pat’s ability to distract him. His parents were waiting for him, the version of him that didn’t miss Pat when he was gone, and certainly not a version that spent his days talking to the ghost of a boy they didn’t approve of like it was normal. 

Time to put all that away until the weekend was done.

–

Pran’s mom had made his favorite curry for dinner, knowing he was coming home. It was exactly like she’d always made it and usually the sight made Pran’s mouth water. Today, though, he was having a hard time finding anything on the table appetizing.

He was pretty sure his parents didn’t know about his visit to the hospital. They hadn’t mentioned it when he’d gotten home, and it didn’t feel like they were waiting to ambush him during dinner. For some reason, Pat’s mother must have decided not to tell them about it. Which also meant that they didn’t know that he knew about Pat.

A small part of him thought that, maybe, they didn’t know either, but that was ridiculous. As much as the two families hated each other, they’d always had a lot of people in common. Business contacts that overlapped, employees that worked for Pat’s dad that now worked for Pran’s, some distant family friends. Someone somewhere along the line had to have mentioned what happened to his parents, and his parents had decided not to tell Pran. Maybe they’d been thinking that Pran wouldn’t care. It had been three years, after all, and he’d been careful not to mention Pat in the intervening time. 

Pran knew he shouldn’t bring it up. It was better if his parents didn’t know that he knew. Safer. But the information felt like it had lodged itself in his throat and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get anything down until it was out. 

“Did you hear about what happened to the neighbors' son?” Pran asked, trying for casual. He was pretty proud of the fact that his voice didn’t shake. From the corner of his eye, he saw his father look over at his mother, who immediately straightened up.

“Yes,” she said, mouth twisting as she answered. “It’s a shame. Very tragic.” He knew she meant it, too. His mother wasn’t heartless and she didn’t take joy in someone’s son getting hurt, no matter how much she hated them. But he also knew that she didn’t enjoy him bringing it up. Or acknowledging the existence of the kid next door.

“I just found out,” Pran said, unable to stop himself. Why didn’t you tell me? “How long ago did it happen?”

“A couple months now,” his father said, finally leaning in to join the conversation. “But we don’t know much about his condition.

Not great, Pran thought with an edge of hysteria. He mostly just follows me around and complains about being bored.

“How did you find out?” his mother asked, her voice a little more clipped.

“I saw an old friend from high school. She mentioned it.” All true, technically. The technicalities were important when it came to his parents.

“Ah.” His mother nodded, seemingly appeased. “Well, like I said. Tragic.”

Tragic. That was a good word for it after all. Or maybe morbidly comedic, that Pat had managed to find a way to separate them even when Pran was finally back from exile. His mom hadn't even needed to do the work herself this time. The universe had done it for her, contorting itself so that Pran and Pat were always on opposite sides.

“Yeah,” Pran said, and took a bite of the curry. It tasted exactly like it had when he was a kid, and he had to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat. 

He let the topic drop. Whatever satisfaction he'd been hoping to get out of it had been empty and now he was just tired, and grateful for his dad moving the conversation on to his studies and which classes were the hardest. Pran talked about school, and being student council president, and smiled and nodded and ate his favorite meal, and didn't talk about Pat again.

When dinner was finally over, Pran dragged himself up the stairs. Tomorrow he would go talk to this woman Pat had mentioned and get some answers, and maybe this whole thing would be over. The infinite torture of having Pat so close but constantly out of reach would end with Pat just simply out of reach, and Pran could go back to trying to move on. 

Pran opened his door to see Pat on his bed and felt something jolt in his chest. Pat was sitting, bobbing his head and miming drumming movements to whatever music he had playing in his mind. He looked carefree and happy and when he looked up at Pran he smiled, and Pran couldn’t help but smile back.

On instinct he slipped inside his room and closed the door behind him, glancing down the hall to make sure neither of his parents were coming. When he turned back, Pat was still smiling brightly, hands now resting on his knees

“What happened to meeting me tomorrow?” Pran whispered, not even trying to sound annoyed by it. He was too tired for that.

“I got bored,” Pat replied, laying back on the bed and gazing at Pran with wide, sad eyes. “And I wanted to say good night. I got used to it.” Right. Their routine, the one they’d settled into in less than three days.

“You’ve said it.” Suddenly it felt dangerous to have Pat in here. Like they were treading too close to something Pran didn’t want to think about. “You can leave now.”

“That doesn’t count as saying it,” Pat protested.

“Then say it properly so you can go,” Pran hissed back.

“No,” Pat said, and Pran narrowed his eyes at the note of challenge in his voice.

“No?”

“You say it first.”

“What?” Pran couldn’t help the way something in him lit up at the demand and he fought back a smile. “No.”

“Then I’m not saying it.” Pat crossed his arms petulantly and Pran rolled his eyes, exasperated fondness washing through his veins.

“Well I’m definitely not saying it,” Pran countered and he saw the set to Pat’s jaw go stubborn.

“Then I’ll sit here all night.”

And would that be such a bad thing, really? To know that Pat was here, even if he couldn’t feel him.

“I won’t say it.”

“Neither will I.”

“Fine,” Pran said, turning to his desk. “Have fun sitting there, then.” He sat down in his chair and pulled out his notebook, flipping open to a random page and pretending to work. As if he could focus on anything other than the butterflies in his stomach, the smile threatening his face, the way his exhaustion had disappeared. 

The stubborn silence only lasted a couple minutes while Pran sketched random doodles onto the page.

“You know you’re not gonna be able to go to bed if I’m laying here,” Pat said, and Pran bit back the various comments that sprang to his mind about Pat and being in his bed.

“I guess you’d better leave then,” Pran said instead, and he heard Pat chuckle.

“Fine,” Pat said, stretching the word out. Pran swiveled in his chair to look at him, seeing that Pat had sat up at some point. “But only because Paa was gonna start a new drama tonight and I wanted to see it too.”

“Sure,” Pran said, grinning, and Pat surprised him by smiling back, softer. And then he stood, moving over to stand above Pran, close enough that Pran could reach out and touch if that weren’t impossible.

“Goodnight,” Pat said, voice gentle, and all of Pran’s thoughts melted away into blissful silence.

“Goodnight,” he said back, the word drawn out of him almost involuntarily. And then Pat began to flicker and Pran knew what was coming and- “Wait.” The flickering stopped, Pat smoothing back into a steady image, looking at him expectantly. Pran stared up at him, tongue heavy with all the things he wanted to say and struck mute by the idea of actually saying them.

Thank you. Don’t go. Do you think about me the way I think about you?

“Don’t sleep?” Pran said, and it came out as more of a question than he’d intended. For a moment Pat looked surprised, before melting into a soft, understanding smile.

“I won’t,” he promised. “I’ll be here tomorrow.”

Pran bit his lip, trying to think of something to say and coming up empty. So he just nodded, hoping that Pat would understand at least a little of what he meant by it.

“Sweet dreams,” Pat said, and then once more flickered away before Pran could even register the hitch in his breath at those words. He stared out the window, across the way to Pat’s firmly closed curtains, and wondered if that was where he’d gone. Sitting alone in the empty room, waiting for morning to come.

Pran leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath and staring up at the ceiling. That would make two of them, then.

Chapter Text

The house looked normal. Completely and totally normal in almost every way. Pran wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, really, but an average home in the middle of a cozy little suburb definitely wasn’t it. Perhaps he’d been hoping for something a little more obviously haunted. Instead, it fit right in. Pink shutters, a small walled off garden, a neatly swept driveway. Even a white fence surrounding the property. The only sign that this was actually the house he was looking for was a literal sign hanging on the gate. It was small, and wooden, with a short list painted onto it.