Archive of Our Own

Mint's favorite class was art. It was a nice, relaxing class that broke up her week and it was taught by her favorite teacher, Mr Siridechawat. He was a great teacher – clear and concise in his explanations, incredibly organized, and listened thoughtfully to students before replying to their questions. He didn't make her feel small or strange like some of the other teachers did and since his classroom was so peaceful, it ended up being an oasis for her during the hectic lunch hours or busy after school activities. 

She spent a lot of time there and as a result, she was a witness to her least favorite thing about art class – that it was next door to music, taught by Mr Jindapat. It made sense, this wing of the high school was focused on a lot of the extracurricular classes like art and music and photography and all sorts of things. It was just... annoying, to be so close. Mr Jindapat was just so loud.

She knew a lot of the other students liked him – he was a whirlwind of noise and energy and almost never punished the students for breaking the rules. Mint found him childish and immature, vowed to spend as little time with him and the music club as possible because they were just so... annoying. She knew Mr Siridechawat felt the same, with the faces he made whenever something Mr Jindapat did interrupted their class and especially when he burst into the class to annoy Mr Siridechawat, which Mint couldn't believe was allowed to happen. 

“Teacher Pran!” Mr Jindapat's voice burst into the quiet of the art room at lunch. Mint was there, eating her packed lunch from home, with a friend of hers, Fern – talking quietly and sharing snacks. Mr Siridechawat was at his desk, absorbed in something he was working on with his earbuds in. He didn't notice Mr Jindapat as he entered the room, but Mint did, not able to keep from scrunching her face even as Mr Jindapat gave her and Fern a friendly wave as he walked towards Mr Siridechawat.

Mint frowned, took a bite of some eggplant from her lunch box and narrowed her eyes at Mr Jindapat, watching him. She could hear Fern's exasperated sigh as she braced herself for whatever Mr Jindapat was about to do. See, if the two of them found Mr Jindapat annoying, she doesn't understand why no one else does? 

Mr Jindapat leaned against Mr Siridechawat's desk and watched him for a bit before, a moment later, he started poking a finger into Mr Siridechawat's cheek to get him to notice him. Mr Siridechawat didn't look happy about that, in Mint's opinion, and immediately jerked his head up to glare at the other teacher.

“This is harassment.”

“Aw, dimples, you don't mean that.”

“It is,” Mr Siridechawat insisted, sitting up straight and pulling his headphones out of his ears, putting them back in his little blue case for them. “Leave me alone.”

“Nah,” Mr Jindapat said dismissively and Mint exchanged a look with Fern, the both of them frowning. “It's lunch! What else am I supposed to do?”

The look on Mr Siridechawat's face showed just how unpleasant he found that answer and a moment later he was standing up, gathering his things to leave. Mr Jindapat looked surprised, jumping off the desk and watching him in confusion.

“I need to run an errand. Mint, Fern,” The two girls looked alert at Mr Siridechawat's voice, “Clean up when you're done and get out of here before the bell, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Mint replied eagerly but the enthusiasm disappeared as she watched Mr Jindapat follow Mr Siridechawat out of the class.

“Oi! You're not allowed to just leave me!”

After a moment of quiet, Fern just let out a disgusted noise. “Ugh, he's so pushy. How does Mr Siridechawat put up with it?” and Mint nodded in agreement. Mr Jindapat was really the worst, wasn't he?

—

Fluke liked school, which is pretty funny if you knew him a few years ago. When he started high school, he was a bit of a delinquent. There was more freedom to be had in high school than all of his school prior, mostly because he went to a high school outside of his home neighborhood and so everyone he met was new. No one knew the short and uncool preteen Fluke, and instead the one post growth spurt, who played basketball and wanted to pick up guitar and date pretty girls.

Except those goals got him into trouble pretty quick and suddenly he was hanging out with a bad crowd, doing a lot of stupid shit. It's only when he got in big trouble during his second year of high school that he realized he had to clean up his act. He didn't want to go back to the scrawny preteen Fluke that no one liked but he didn't really know what to... do.

Enter his favorite teacher, Pat Jindapat. He doesn't know what it was about Mr Jindapat that drew him in but eventually he found himself hovering around the music room, not really with any purpose since it wasn't a class on his schedule, but not quite ready to leave either. Mr Jindapat caught him after a few times and instead of scolding him and turning him away, especially when Fluke is sure he knew his reputation as an almost burn out, he invited him in.

They talked for a bit, Mr Jindapat open and friendly, Fluke awkward and stilted, but when Fluke admitted that he wanted to learn how to play guitar, Mr Jindapat beamed.

“Oh! I love guitar! I usually play drums but – well, my lover plays guitar so it's near and dear to my heart.”

Fluke was a little startled by hearing something so outrageously cheesy out of nowhere, but it got him to laugh and shake his head and suddenly, the mood was relaxed. Later, as he was on his way out, Mr Jindapat pushed a guitar into his hands along with a piece of paper with some scribbles on it. YouTubers he should check out, Fluke was told, to help him learn the basics. So, he went home and looked them up.

Now, during his last year of high school, as the music club president, he's a really big fan of Mr Jindapat. He's a better student now, with better grades, and he even has a band with some of the other kids in the music club. It's great, life's great, and he's really happy about it just –

He kind of wishes Mr Siridechawat would stop giving him detention whenever he forgets to tuck in his shirt, is all.

— 

Miss Juthapich had been a teacher at her school for a while now. About five years, this coming summer, and she had seen a lot of faculty come and go during her time. There were some favorites she had and some least favorites for sure but Mr Siridechawat and Mr Jindapat were definitely not in that last category. They only started a few years after her, and qualified as her juniors, but she knew that they must have known each other outside of work from how they interacted. 

She was sitting alone in the teacher's lounge when the door burst open and she could see Mr Siridechawat storming in, a clench to his jaw that Miss Juthapich knew must be related to something Mr Jindapat did, again. She raised an eyebrow as he dropped into the seat across from her, arms folded and glare directed at the wall somewhere behind her. She didn't say anything, just continued to peel her banana and take a bite.

They sat there in silence for a bit before, in another burst of noise, the door flew open again and Mr Jindapat popped in, eyes frantically searching the room before landing on Mr Siridechawat.

“Pran! You can't just –” He said before faltering at the sharp glare directed at him, stumbling on his feet slightly as he tried to approach the two of them.

“Leave.”

“Pran!”

“Leave.”

Mr Jindapat looked helpless for a moment, mouth ajar, hands outstretched, eyes flicking from Mr Siridechawat to Miss Juthapich, who just took another bite of her banana and gave a small little smile around it. He sighed, burying his face in his hands and shaking his head. 

“Fine, fine! But this isn't over!” He shouted before storming back out the room with as much bluster as he entered. The silence dropped over them again and Miss Juthapich could watch as Mr Siridechawat's shoulders finally relaxed and he dropped his head back in a sigh. He looked back to the closed door of the teacher's lounge for a moment before back at Miss Juthapich with a small smile.

“Sorry for that.”

Miss Juthapich smiled. “It's okay, I know how it can get with friends, especially when you're both teachers.”

“Yeah,” Mr Siridechawat said with a huff of amusement, though his hands began to fidget in his lap and Miss Juthapich could see the way he twisted at the ring on his ring finger. She always assumed he was married but she'd never met his wife. Mr Siridechawat was quite tight lipped about his personal life and Miss Juthapich wasn't one to pry. “I still don't know how we ended up at the same school, but here we are.”

She laughed then and she understood. She had a rival back in college, another student in her year who kept beating her grades over and over, forcing her to be the perpetual number two. She was dreading the idea of ending up teaching at the same school as them once they graduated and breathed a sigh of relief when she ended up here and her rival was at a school on the other side of the city. 

It's probably why she has such a soft spot for the two. Their disciplines have a bit of overlap especially from the student's perspective and from what she's heard, Mr Siridechawat is a musician as well. They clearly went to college together and their dynamic has spilled over into the workplace, but she doesn't think they actually hate each other like she hated her own college rival. They're both sweet guys and are the first to volunteer their help whenever she needs extra teachers for festivals and the like. Even if they always end up bickering by the end of the day. 

“Sometimes it just works out like that, but I'm glad you're both here, if that helps,” Miss Juthapich said quite earnestly, and as she looked at the surprised but touched expression on Mr Siridechawat's face, she smiled. “Come on, don't sit and dwell. Let me buy you lunch, you'll need something in your stomach for when Mr Jindapat shows up again.”

It made him laugh a little harder than she expected but he seemed brighter after and stood up with her, nodding. She smiled, threw away her banana peel and led Mr Siridechawat out the lounge in the direction of the food carts outside.

—

Mr Thanawin's domain is math class, but beyond that he's a rugby player and liked to go out for drinks with his colleagues. It's how he met Pat, how they became work friends, started playing rugby together, and why he spends time with him even when their particular classes have no overlap at all.

He thinks Pat appreciates it though, because whenever the man seems a little too worked up, a little too stressed out – he'll swing by Mr Thanawin's class with a shout of “Oi, P'Win! Lunch!” and drag him away from his empty classroom. Of course, these are usually the days when he doesn't bully Mr Siridechawat into it first but sometimes, he comes by because of Mr Siridechawat in the first place. Like, today. These are the more interesting days.

They're eating noodles at the cart closest to the school and Pat is picking at his meal instead, a frown on his face and eyes a little distant as he stabs at a dumpling in his soup. Win raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything, just slurps up his noodles some more and waits. Usually, Pat comes out with it after a while.

Then – “He's being an ass about where the music club is allowed to perform during the festival.”

Win blinks, digests the information and nods. The school festival is soon, the regular end of the year one, and the music club's performance is a highlight for it. Except, they've kind of been overbooked and as a result, there's not enough space for them. Mr Siridechawat has been working as one of the lead organizers with Miss Juthapich and has been pretty stingy about letting people change around their places at the last minute.

“He give you a reason why?” Win asks, curious.

Pat shifts in his seat, looking a little uncomfortable for a moment before shaking his head. That's enough to tell Win that yeah, he does have an idea, but not one he wants to share. Pat can get like that sometimes with Mr Siridechawat and it's a little confusing, if he's honest. He's sure they know each other from beyond work, but he can't figure out what exactly their connection is. Are they friends? Are they not friends? His biggest guess, with how loud and petty their conflicts can be sometimes, is that they used to be friends but aren't anymore. He hasn't confirmed it yet, but it feels the closest thing to the truth.

“Well, that's kind of shitty of him.”

“Hey!”

“It's the truth, isn't it? The music club needs to perform and I know they're being a little... demanding, but it's nong Fluke's last year so he's probably just trying to make it memorable.”

“That's what I said!”

Win nods, “What's the biggest issue then?”

Pat shifts and frowns and then, “It's – it would require moving the art gallery to a different room. A smaller one too so it wouldn't be on the main festival floor.”

Win grimaces, getting it now. “That's... not great, did you try talking it through with him?”

Then Pat breaks, burying his face in his hands. “I might've said something a little shitty, actually.

“Oh!”

Nodding, Pat continues. “That – that it wouldn't matter, if they moved. Since they weren't a big draw for the festival.”

“Oh noooo.”

Mr Siridechawat has a reputation for being a considerate and thoughtful teacher. He also has a reputation for being aggressively overprotective of his art students. Everyone knows this, especially Pat. It's a wonder Mr Siridechawat didn't kick him out of the festival completely, really.

“Yeah, I fucked up.”

“Super fucked up.”

Pat groans then, dropping his forehead to the table and not picking it up again until the end of their lunch. He didn't even finish all his dumplings, which is a pretty clear sign of just how guilty Pat was feeling. Win felt a bit bad for him, but then again – this was pretty self-inflicted.

—

Pran was confused.

He doesn't know how he got here but for the past few days, the art club students have been a little more anxious than usual and they all seem to just – just be there all the time, at any given time, which has made it difficult to leave the school with Pat as discreetly as he prefers. He doesn't know what's gotten into them and he doesn't know why they keep suddenly cutting off their conversations when he walks in the room, but he's not entirely a fan of it.

It takes him a while to shake Mint off today, knowing that Pat's been waiting in their car for the past hour for him to go meet him. He tries not to let his annoyance show because she seems sincere in her need for feedback on her piece for the festival, but Pat's texts are growing increasingly more annoying and Pran's starting to feel stretched in two directions.

“Nong,” he starts, trying to be gentle as he cuts Mint off. She's repeating herself now, a little too fixated on the amount of yellows in her painting. “Really, it's fine. How about we talk more about this tomorrow? I have to–”

“No!” is what comes out of her mouth, suddenly and a little louder than Pran thinks he's ever heard her be. He blinks, startled, and watches as she scrambles to justify herself. “Just – uhm – if you could just –”

Suddenly, his phone starts ringing in his hand and the caller ID lets him know that it's Pat. Which is a little strange, because he was just texting Pran but Pran decides to reject it so he can finish up with Mint and hurry out.

Except, the moment he rejects it, it starts ringing again. He furrows his brow, looks at the phone and happens to catch Mint's nervous expression at that moment.

... Hm.

“Hello?” Pran says as he answers and then –

“I'M GOING TO KILL THEM,” is what Pran gets, shouted into his ear and making him jerk away from his phone and watching as Mint startles from where she stands in front of him.

“Eh?? You're – what??” Pran asks, finally, truly, completely lost.

“YOUR STUDENTS, PRAN. YOUR STUDENTS. I'M GOING TO GIVE THEM ALL DETENTION.”

And now, Pran doesn't know exactly what's going on but that's a little too far. “The hell are you talking about? You leave them alone, Ai'Pat!” 

“Yeah, well, YOU have to pay to get all this paint off the car. Does nong Fern not think I know what she looks like? I don't care if she was wearing a mask, I was inside the car and she dumped an entire can of green paint on it!”

“Ah.”

Pat breaks down swearing then but Pran doesn't stick around to listen, just hanging up the phone and staring directly at Mint, who continues to be unable to look him in the eye. Eventually, he just says –

“Nong Mint.”

And just like that, she bursts into tears, pressing her face into her hands and shaking her head. He sighs, reaching out to pat her on the head before, “You have to tell me what happened.”

“It's just – we heard what he said about us!”

“What who said about who?”

“Mr Jindapat! He thinks we're stupid!”

“W-What?” Pran asks, startled, because the last thing Pat would do is call a student stupid. If anything, he's a little too soft-hearted about the students which is what Pat always teases him about. He'd never say anything worthy of, uh, getting paint dumped on his car.

(Their car, actually. Ugh, that's going to be such a pain in the ass to clean.)

“He – he hates you! And he hates us! Which is why he's always picking fights! A-And why he told Mr Thanawin that we don't deserve to be at the festival! Because we're stupid!” is what Pran gets out of Mint through her sobs and Pat grimaces, beginning to see the picture here.

“Mr Jindapat doesn't hate me,” Pat says first, a little unthinkingly. Maybe he should play this better but he's having a hard time aligning his view of Pat – loving, devoted, over the top husband, who is so embarrassing that he followed Pran to the same school just so they could be teachers together – with... whatever it is the students have started to assume.

“Yes, he does!” Mint bursts out with, seeming to have her indignation override her tears, “He's super annoying and always picking fights with you and never leaves us alone!” 

“That's not –”

“I don't know how you put up with him, he's the worst!” 

Anxiously, Pran begins to fiddle with the ring on his hand and goes over everything in his mind, realizing where they may have made an error here. Oh, this is going to be such a pain in the ass to solve too. What a great end to a Wednesday, ugh.

—

“I never called them stupid!”

“I know.”

“But I swear, I–”

“I know,” Pran insists, cutting Pat off from where he sits between Pran's legs, getting his hair dried after his shower. When they got home that evening, Pran kicked Pat into the bathroom after they realized he got some of that paint down his back from when it splashed against the car. Now, he sits at the foot of their bed, Pran rubbing the towel across his head and wiping off any paint that Pat missed as he informs Pat of what happened at school.

“How could they think I would say that?” Pat says, a little miserable and despite himself, he feels his eyes sting with tears at the idea that any of the students think he might look at them that badly. He can't even fathom it, it seems so out of the realm of possibility.

While he's brooding, Pran drops forward to press a kiss to his forehead and Pat pouts, looking up at him from his spot. Pran gives him a small smile, their views inverted from one another but it's reassuring to Pat just to have his husband here, on his side, and knowing that something must've gotten missed in translation over the past few days. The idea of saying something that terrible about the students hurts him, and the idea of Pran believing it hurts him even more.

“I think this is my fault, actually,” Pran says and Pat looks startled for a moment, ready to object. Pran doesn't let him, just dropping the towel to the side and covering Pat's mouth with his hands, dropping his chin onto the top of Pat's head as he starts to explain. “I was kind of messing with you, about the festival stuff.”

“Eh?” is what comes out of Pat, still muffled from the hands covering his face. 

“I thought it'd be funny to see you go crazy if I told you that I wouldn't change the music club stage. I mean, I'm gonna, I know what it means to you and to nong Fluke. You should've been on the main floor in the first place, I don't know how that got missed. I just wanted to make you sweat a little.”

More muffled objections from Pat, but Pran doesn't remove his hands.

“I was just waiting for you to go cry at P'Win about it before I let you know, but it looks like someone overheard you.”

Pat, finally, just nods.

“Probably a student. Probably not even an art student, but it looks like the rumor mill got a hold of it and now all the art club kids hate you. Doesn't help that they think we hate each other too, or at least that I hate you? I'm still trying to figure out what Mint meant there.”

They sit like that for a moment before Pran finally pulls his hands away and sits up, picking up the towel again to finish drying. Pat's still trying to process all that but eventually, he looks back up at Pran with a pout.

“This wouldn't have happened if you just told them who you're married to.”

“Are you crazy?” Pran says, flicking Pat in the forehead with his fingers. “Then they'd move our classrooms and I wouldn't be able to see you all day.” Then his hands come down, squishing Pat's cheeks together as Pran looks down at him from above. “I need my fix.”

When he lets go, Pat just smiles a little brilliantly up at him and relaxes against Pran, rubbing his face into one of his thighs as he breathes in Pran's smell. That's – that's enough to make Pat feel whole again, and like this whole snafu with the students is just a temporary thing, something they'll be able to fix. It's grounding, really.

“Then what do you want to do?”

“An apology, from the students to you. Then I can let them know what's the status of the festival. It really isn't going to be as big a deal as they seem to think.”

Pat nods, feeling reassured by the plan and knowing they'll still have to navigate the tricky waters of keeping their relationship seem professional and distant, when neither of them are. He supposes they'll work that out in the moment with the students, because it kind of depends on what they seem to think of Pat and Pran. It makes him a little anxious, but he's ready to follow Pran to hell no matter what, so they'll figure it out.

This is what's going through Pat's mind as he pushes up off the ground and goes to their wardrobe to grab a shirt. It's only as Pran calls his name that he looks at him curiously and he gets even more confused, especially when Pran is holding his phone up to Pat.

“Oh, one more thing,” Pran says and Pat braces himself, because Pran is a menace. “The art club doesn't even have to move, I was just fucking with you.”

The snap of a camera shutter is all that's heard before Pat yells, throwing the t-shirt in his hands at Pran and launching himself at him. Pran's laughter echoes through the apartment as he bolts away, forcing Pat to chase after him. The bastard.

—

It's been a while since Miss Juthapich was pulled in to be a third party mediator for an incident but when she steps into the art class, she's glad she's there to help. Mr Jindapat is standing a little awkwardly at the front of the class, arms crossed and glancing over to Mr Siridechawat, who looks much less more anxious. In fact, Miss Juthapich thinks he might look a little... amused? He's sitting on the edge of his desk, hands flat on either side of him and an eyebrow raised at Mr Jindapat before he smiles at Miss Juthapich's entrance.

The art club students, meanwhile, are sitting at the desks scattered through the classroom, looking like every single one of them swallowed a lemon.

And for some reason, Fluke, the music club president, is sitting there too, glaring at the art club students. 

Phew, what a minefield she's walked into.

“So, is everyone here?” she asks, carefully as she falls into place next to Mr Jindapat, who just looks to Mr Siridechawat. He nods and then looks to the students, directing his attention specifically at the two girls at the front. Mint and Fern, Miss Juthapich recalls.

“Can we talk about what happened?”

“It's my fault!” The first girl, Mint, starts.

“No, it's mine!” Her friend, Fern, interjects a little desperately. “I was the one who did it! It was my idea completely!”

“But I'm the one who said we should do something. Plus, I told you what Mr Jindapat said!”

Then, of course, “Mr Jindapat would never say that, you assholes!” is what comes out of Fluke and all three teachers scold him in unison, making him duck his head in embarrassment.

“Okay,” Miss Juthapich starts, clearing her throat and taking a breath. This is already... a lot. “Nong Mint heard something about Mr Jindapat possibly saying something rude about the art club and their place in the festival, yes?”

The students nod.

“And when nong Mint shared this with nong Fern, you both decided to get some kind of revenge?”

The two girls nod.

“Partly because of what he may have said, and because you wanted to defend Mr Siridechawat?”

More nodding.

“Okay, well, I understand the sentiment but throwing paint at his car was a little... much, you know.”

The art club students all seem to deflate at that and Miss Juthapich sighs.

“Was it just you two?” she asks, directed towards Mint and Fern and while the two girls nod, the other art students shake their heads.

A voice from one of the others pops up, “We all agreed to it!” and then the students are murmuring their agreement, which just seems to make Fluke mad. Miss Juthapich decides to move on before the kid says anything else he'll regret. He really doesn't need to get detention too.

“Okay, nongs, well, you all have detention for the next month,” she says to just get it out there. The art students groan but don't seem to object too hard. “And nong Mint and nong Fern, I'm going to call your parents and you're going to have to help Mr Jindapat clean his car.”

It's at that that Mr Siridechawat finally cuts in with a, “Nah, that won't be necessary.” The room seems to go still at that before Miss Juthapich recovers, tilting her head curiously at him.

“Oh?”

“Well, it's my car too.”

Silence for a moment and Miss Juthapich watches as Mr Jindapat stares at Mr Siridechawat, a little wide-eyed.

“Just, you know, I couldn't let my husband drive around in a green car, right? So, I already got it cleaned.”

The amount of screaming that comes out of the students after that isn't really anything Miss Juthapich can get under control, no matter how much teaching experience she has over her juniors. Still, they could have warned her.

—

Fluke steps off the stage at the end of the music club's set and he feels... whole, for just a moment. He takes a sip of his water and sighs, content, letting the feeling of being able to play music – real music, that he composed himself, with the guitar he played with his own hands – wash over him. He never really expected much from his high school years, just knew he didn't want them to feel as insignificant as his school years before felt. This though? Being able to play at a school festival, make memories with his friends before he graduates? This is exactly what he hoped for.

“Now that's the face of a boy who has everything he wants out of life,” is the voice that cuts through the silence, charming and teasing and Fluke opens his eyes to see Mr Jindapat in front of him, smiling brightly. 

Fluke lights up himself, a “Mr Jindapat!” spilling out of him in glee as he takes off his guitar to set it down and rushes forward, buzzing with energy as he approaches his mentor.

“Did you watch it? Did you like it? I took your advice for the final set list, I think it really worked and–”

“Whoa, whoa, nong. Of course I watched. Are you kidding me? The amount of times I had to hear your wailing since you came into my classroom the first time, I'm not going to miss a chance to see you live.”

Fluke feels embarrassed and delighted and just a moment later, he's throwing himself at Mr Jindapat in a hug. A tight squeeze around him and Mr Jindapat is laughing, if also shoving him back. “Ew, you stink. I'm not going to hug you like this, go take a shower.”

“Sorry! I'm just really happy right now,” Fluke blurts out and bounces on his feet a few times, giddy. It lasts for a moment until he spots Mr Siridechawat from across the way, watching them a little curiously. That's when something occurs to him and his whole demeanor immediately turns sheepish.

“Mr Jindapat, I have... something to confess.”

Suddenly, Mr Jindapat looks a little concerned, staring at Fluke with furrowed brows and seeming to brace himself. Which, Fluke feels a little guilty for but he guesses with his reputation, is kind of expected. Fluke doesn't mean to be such a capricious guy, but it's where he's ended up. He's getting better though, he thinks. Except –

“I don't think Fern threw that paint at you just because of Mr Siridechawat.”

“... Oh?”

Then, even more sheepishly, ducking his head as he recalls his many, many, many times complaining to Mr Jindapat about how he wanted to play guitar and get girls, Fluke admits, “I may have... accidentally ghosted Fern after she asked me out on a date. I – I didn't mean to. She's really cute! I just, uh, kind of forgot about it and then...”

When he looks back up at Mr Jindapat, his expression is blank before, a moment later, he's grabbing Fluke in a headlock and grinding his knuckles into his head in a noogie. “Nong Fluke! What the hell am I going to do with you, you brat?!”

“S-Sorry, Mr Jindapat!”

—

Later, when Pat relays this story to Pran after dinner, Pran just looks concerned for a moment. 

Then delighted.

Then – “Oh my god, I love teen drama.”

Which just gets Pat to smack him with a pillow, knowing that between the two of them, Pran fully deserves it.