Chapter Text
Pran had never noticed how annoying the sound of Wai’s shoe hitting the floor was. Even over the music, his friend’s agitation was evident in the way he moved: he had barely touched the glass and Pran, though eager to get back to his flat, didn’t want to interrupt his thoughts.
Yet why else had he called him if not to tell him something?
Wai and Pran had been friends for as long as Pran could remember. True, they had a sort of mythical fight on the first day of school over a football match that changed them forever - but they hadn’t left each other’s side since. Pran’s mother welcomed Wai with open arms, happy that her son had been able to adapt to life in Thailand after spending his first six years abroad. Wai was the push Pran needed to come out of his shell, and when he did, he met Pat.
But Pran hated talking about Pat, so not even his mind escaped his ban.
“Hey, buddy,” he called to him with a little tap on the shoulder. “You gonna tell me what’s going on today?”
Wai, as if realising he was not alone, gave him a long look that danced between don’t bother me and I don’t know where to start. Pran, after his long friendship with him, was able to tell that he was asking for specific questions, or else he’d never get his story started.
“Is that app again?” he ventured. Wai let out a small sigh. Bingo.
“It wasn’t just a match this time,” Wai replied with a regret. “We’d talked a bit and it seemed like it was finally the good one...”
“But?” insisted Pran.
“They told me that it’s better that we remain friends. So they’re not going to be the person I’ll be with for the rest of my life, let alone five minutes.”
Pran sighed. Not that Wai was a melodramatic as a rule - sometimes he was a little dramatic, but no more so than someone his age - but he’d been pretty desperate to connect with a person for a few months now. Pran could understand the feeling if he was drunk, but when he was sane and sober, no. He wasn’t in any hurry, and he didn’t understand why everyone else was.
And there was an explanation for it. It didn’t come down to something as simple as an app, as Wai was suggesting. It was something deeper and more poetic, in the style of the typical material from which a film is made. But it was real life, and it could happen to any of them. But not to all of them.
Connect. A very versatile word depending on the field. For generations humans thought they knew how to connect with others, but with the arrival and spread of new technologies, it became clear that they didn’t have the slightest idea how it was done. They wanted to discover all a person’s secrets in a day, to know if a friendship had a future or not at a glance... but they didn’t want to work at it, so social networks were created. But Pran would have liked to keep it that way.
Gradually, and for various reasons such as radiation and airwaves, humans developed their special ability. It wasn’t just being a thinking being-it went beyond that. While it is true that the ability to be able to find one’s soul mate caught the attention of the youngest of the literati, the ordinary citizen was given the opportunity to fill the void of growing existentialism among society, when the lack of social skills replaced by a lack of motivation was not a matter of one, or two. Gradually the new generations were born with the innate ability to find their soul mate in this life. If they had one.
When? Any time.
Who? It could be anyone.
What did it mean? That these people were bound together for the rest of their lives.
The closest example Pran had was his own mother. As far as he understood, she and his father experienced the bond, which is what it was popularly called. Pran never got to see it firsthand because his father died shortly after he was born, but he lived with the grief of a woman who believed that a large part of her love had died with him. It was by no means pleasant.
But over the years it became bearable.
“I think you’ve got it all wrong...” suggested Pran, sipping from his glass. The music drilled into his eardrums, but Wai loved that table near the corner.
“And how should I approach it?” asked Wai, frowning. “Listen, do you know who’s been bonded?” Pran denied, evidently not really up on university gossip. He spent his time composing and studying, when he had a spare moment, Wai would drag him to places like that which didn’t quite suit him. Not so much because of the atmosphere as because of the loud music that gave him headaches afterwards. “Pat’s sister. Half the university knows.”
“I guess I’m in the other half,” he replied quietly. While Pat’s name made him feel twitchy, his problems weren’t with Pa. That her brother was a two-bit jerk didn’t make her a target for his complaints.
“Well, she did. With Ink, remember? She was in our high school class,” Wai completed, as if Pran didn’t remember. Evidently, he had fond memories of Ink. He also remembered that she and Pat were close friends.
Again, Pat. He rolled his eyes, finishing his drink in one sip.
“Everyone’s lucky but me, I’ll die alone and bald.” Pran couldn’t help but let out a laugh, patting his friend on the back.
“Well, if you don’t get married before you’re 30, I’ll move in with you,” he proposed. Wai shook his head vehemently.
“I’d rather not,” he said, “you snore a lot.”
“Who said I snore?” asked an offended Pran, who only felt calmer when Wai paid for a couple more rounds of drinks. When the first call came on his mother’s mobile, he felt he’d had enough of a bender-after all, he still had to get home. Wai thanked him for spending time with him despite his bad mood, and Pran played it down.
The holiday was almost over. The feeling of starting a new semester excited Pran, both for the classes and for the independence of university life. A night out with his best friend, reminding himself what it was like to be young... what could be wrong with that?
Except for the fact that, after years of successfully ignoring the existence of his neighbour and greatest enemy, it had to be the first thing he saw when he got out of the taxi. Pran stood still in the road, watching Pat's body contract in violent cramps as he puked on the pavement.
He thought, if that was his punishment for thinking about him that night, then he deserved it.