Archive of Our Own

The reason why they had even approached the lady was because it had sounded ridiculous.

I can see your futures, she had said, smiling in a way that looked both fond and vehemently creepy, I can give you a glimpse of your future.

They had been out on a high school field trip anyways, and Pat had probably thought it was as ridiculous as he did, because he walked into her dark gloomy booth along with him. 

She stretched her hands out, and they let their hands rest on her old wrinkled ones, and she smiled as she held them and closed her eyes.

Pran exchanged a glance with Pat, and Pat shrugged. 

Then she opened her eyes, smiled and said, “You are both going to find happiness in life, but it will be hard earned. You will have stable jobs and income, and little to no issues in health. As for love,” She smiled mysteriously, “I’ll let you figure that out yourself.”

They had both been confused beyond words, and wordlessly left the stall. But they were out on a field trip, and they were surrounded by their friends, with a mountain load of interesting stuff to do. Obviously both of them had stuffed this weird encounter in the back corner of their minds. Pran had just remembered it briefly before he fell asleep that night.

And Pran remembers he had slept on his own bed last night, in his own house , and absolutely alone.

Which is why, when he wakes up with one arm sore to the tips, feeling no sensation in them, his first thought is panic.

His second thought is to immediately shift so as to get blood moving in that arm, but no amount of moving can help him extract his arm from whatever is crushing it.

And then he opens his eyes, just to see a bare shoulder gracing his field of view.

Burglar, Pran’s brain provides, but why would the burglar be sleeping on his arm?

A very shirtless burglar at that.

And at that thought, Pran’s higher brain functions finally kick in, and he yells, pushing the other man away with his free arm.

The other guy hums, blearily opens his eyes and oh-

Oh.

It’s Pat .

Pran has one leg dangling off the bed, one arm still partially numb, and the other supporting his body on the bed, but he makes no move to get up. He is frozen.

Wait.

It’s not Pat. This one’s older, hair shorter. 

Now that Pran notices, the shoulders look broader, and he even seems taller.

‘Pat’ uses his palm to rub his eyes as he finally manages to crank them open. He blinks twice, and half lidded eyes scan the room as he realises something is wrong.

“Hm?” Pat’s voice is rough and he clears his throat, “This isn’t my room?”

“I don’t think this is mine either.” Pran says, and Pat is finally awake, sitting up straighter, furiously rubbing his eyes again to get a clearer vision.

“Pran?” Pat asks, finally registering everything.

“So you are Pat too.”

“When did you get so old?”

Pran smacks the back of his head. “This isn’t the time for that. We need to figure out why we are here first.”

Pat nods, eyelids still drooping downwards as if in a hurry to seal close, and Pat rubs them one more time for good measure. When he opens them again, his brows furrow further.

“Why am I shirtless?” Pat asks, still eyeing his bare chest.

Pran would not like his attention to be brought near that, “Why are you asking me that?”

“Because you are here.”

“Not that I want to be.”

Pat narrows his eyes at Pran, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “Are you sure you didn’t do anything to me?”

Pran smacks Pat’s shoulder lightly, “Why would I want to do anything to you?” He huffs, “In fact, it’s you who was sleeping with his big head on my arm. Now it is completely numb.” It’s not numb anymore, the pins and needles are gone and he can finally move that arm, but he can blame Pat for the initial pain at least.

Pat scrunches his brows further, lazily looks at Pran’s ‘numb’ arm, and then hastily sits up straight, “Wait. Where are we?”

Pran can feel a headache coming, “Do I look like I know?”

Pat rolls over to the edge of the bed before getting up, and Pran slides out of the bed. Out of the corner of his eye, Pran can see Pat grabbing a t-shirt out of the closet and putting it round his neck. He whips his head around to face him. 

“What is that doing here?” Pran points at the clearly printed “FRIEND” on the t-shirt Pat is now wearing.

Pat looks down on the t-shirt confused, “This?” 

Pran swallows whatever words that were on his tongue. That t-shirt. He walks towards Pat and turns him around. Sure enough, there’s “UNFRIEND” written on the back.

Pran doesn’t know what to think. This is his t-shirt. One he just bought. Vibrant grey with a catchy phrase. Pran had loved it the moment he had laid his eyes on it. His mother had smiled when he had handed her the t-shirt, asking him if he liked it. He had nodded, and she had laughed, patting his head as she dropped the t-shirt in their shopping basket.

Pran hadn’t even gotten the opportunity to wear it yet, and the t-shirt in front of him had seemingly already faced a number of years, faded around the edges and crumpled in patches. His heart tightens at the thought.

Just where is he?

Pat answers it for him.

“Fuck.”

Pran raises his eyebrow at Pat. Pat turns around and points to the calendar sitting conveniently on the bedside table, which Pran had completely overlooked. 

2026

It is the year 2026. 

Pran is stunned even when he expected this.

He was from 2018. How had he managed to jump eight years?!?!

And Pat, the traitor, laughs.

“What is this? Is this a dream?”

Pran smacks his head a little too hard and Pat winces before turning to smack Pran back, “That hurt!”

“Then does this feel like a dream?”

Pat lowers his hand, “No.”

“We are fucked .” Pran can feel his heart rate increasing, anxiety and uncertainty of the situation finally kicking in after the shock.

He’s in an unfamiliar place, at an unfamiliar timeline, with a person who he at least knows, but is not in a body he is familiar with. Pat seems the same, but his taller stature and stronger build makes him a lot more intimidating than Pat of his timeline makes him feel. This Pat is….an adult. Mature looking, unfamiliar. Pran balls his fist, mind whirring with thoughts and trying to come up with ideas to make sense of this whole ordeal-

“Hey.” Pat grabs his wrist, pressing the brakes to his thoughts. “It’s okay. We can figure out how to get out of here.”

Pran takes a shaky breath at that. It’s okay. Pat’s right. He’s not alone. He takes another deep breath. Right, the first step should be to gather more clues.

Pat is already taking a step out of the bedroom, walking out towards the kitchen. Pran follows him out.

“Wow,” Pat looks through the cabinets in the kitchen, “I wonder if there is something to eat. I’m hungry.”

Only you can think of food at a time like this, Pran thinks, but before he can voice it out, his eyes land on a collage on the wall above the desk. It’s big, vibrant, and it calls Pran towards itself.

Pran cautiously walks towards it, and oh-

Oh.

Pran’s breath hitches. What is going on?!

Why are there pictures of Pat and him everywhere ?!

“Fuck.” He swears, not really being able to swallow the information in front of him.

His eyes sweep from picture to picture, unbelievably perfect in the flimsy paper. It’s mesmerising, Pran’s eyes glue themselves to the content in the photos.

He recognises some of them. The one with his high school shirt, sitting on the bench composing the song , the song he has poured his heart and soul into. He can recognise it any day.

There are some he doesn’t recognise. Like the one where they are sitting in a hallway of some sort. Pran is playing the guitar, Pat seems to be watching him. It is such a mirror of them playing the song in high school, Pran almost believes that it happened.

But there are some which seem so unbelievable he almost thinks the people in the picture are not Pat and him. They couldn’t be.

He can’t believe the photo where they are sitting, arms around each other, the backdrop of a beach barely visible. How could they get that close? To be able to wrap their arms around each other as if they were friends?

But yet, Pat’s smile is the same as he looks at the camera. The crinkling of the edges of his eyes are the same as he remembers. The way he exudes happiness even in the form of a 2D piece of still image is the same as the Pat he knows. 

There are pictures which are so completely different from his life, Pran thinks they are in a different universe. A universe where their parent’s rivalry doesn’t exist. Or a universe which fulfils all his fantasies. He doesn’t know which. Pran is feeding Pat, and Pat seems completely willing to eat the food Pran presumes he made. It can’t be real.

“Shit.” 

Pran jumps, not expecting Pat to whisper that right beside his ear. Pat had walked up to the desk too, and was looking at the pictures.

“What are we? In an alternate universe?”

Pran doesn’t know, he doesn’t answer.

“Oh there are pictures which are not from Thailand, too?” Pat points at a picture of a picturesque view of a city, a statue of the Merlion at the focus of the picture.

“Singapore?” 

“You will work in Singapore in the future? Wow!” Pat exclaims.

Pran gives him a confused look, “What?”

Pat points at the picture of Singapore, “This?”

“How do you know it’s me who’s working in Singapore?”

Pat points at the letters scattered around with the photos, which Pran had failed to notice under all the photos.

“The address, you are sending me a letter” - Pat laughs as he reads the content on the envelope - “from Singapore on my birthday?”

“This can’t be real.”

Pat, on the other hand, is focusing on something else, “Why do all these letters and pictures look so flirty?”

Pran whips his head around so quick he almost passes out, “ What. ”

“Look,” Pat reads out one of the postcards, “Here, it says ‘ Stop sulking, I write a postcard to you so often, I don’t know what to write about anymore.’ How is this not flirty?” He laughs, as if a letter like that doesn’t faze him at all. Which it probably doesn’t. Maybe Pran is the only one concerned about all this.

His eyes trail down anxiously towards the post-it notes pinned on the board, but before he has the opportunity to read any of them, the bell rings, startling both him and Pat.

Pran exchanges a glance with Pat.

Oh no.

If they have to play the character of Pat and Pran of this universe…things are going to be really bad. They have no idea how to act like their older selves.

“Should we just behave like we normally do? Maybe they’ll think we are just having a weird day?” Pat suggests, but Pran shrugs, he has no idea. 

The bell rings again, and Pran’s anxiety goes up one more level.

“Let’s just open the door and then we’ll think of something.”

“Wait-” Pran wants to at least form a plan before they open the door, but Pat is too fast for him to stop. He swings the door open.

There is a woman standing there, high ponytail and simple sharp makeup, back straight and confident, and it takes Pran a moment to realise who she is.

“Ink?” Pat asks, disbelief even in his voice.

Ink narrows her eyes, “Yeah? Who else could I be?”

She walks into the house, and Pran realises they must be close enough to walk into their houses like that. 

Ink notices that neither of them have moved from their places, “What’s wrong with you two today? I know it’s a Sunday but it’s past noon, why do you two look like you haven’t even gotten up completely-” She stops at that, eyes twinkling as if she made a discovery. She raises her eyebrows suggestively, “Did I interrupt you two?” Pran sputters trying to think of a response. Pat is still stuck to the doorway, watching disbelievingly.

Ink lets the matter slide, as if she does this often and never expects them to respond. She drops a bag on the kitchen counter, “Your mom sent you two food, by the way. ‘ Eat it before it gets cold! It doesn’t taste good when it is microwaved!’ is what she told me to tell you.”

Pran doesn’t want to think about how Ink is able to bring food from Pat’s house this easily. A universe where Pat and Pran send each other flirty letters? Pran wants to snort. Obviously it was Ink and Pat who were together. She even freely walks in and out of his house. It’s fine, he knew it. Everyone knows Pat has a crush on Ink. It was bound to happen. He knows it. 

Yet it still hurts as if his heart is being crushed by a boulder.

“Why are you two looking at me like that?” Ink genuinely looks concerned now, and Pran isn’t even trying to hide his disappointment. 

What was he thinking? Entertaining the idea that he could end up with Pat? How would that even be possible?

“You were at my home?” Pat asks, still in the doorway.

“Well can I not visit my in-laws’ home?” Ink tilts her head to the side, smiling a little. “What are you talking about? I almost live there at this point!”

Pran lowers his head, and turns towards the bag which Ink had brought. Better to keep his head busy and away from unnecessary thoughts.

But Ink must have figured something out. Of course. She is smart.

She lowers her voice, “What’s wrong with you two?”

“Nothing.” Both Pat and Pran reply.

Ink narrows her eyes further, “Something is definitely wrong.”

Pran opens the container of food, and the delicious smell of homemade food fills his nose. He walks up to the cabinets, trying to find plates to serve the food in. When he fails to find the plates in the third cabinet, Ink walks up to him cautiously and opens the drawer where the plates are kept.

“Seriously,” She frowns, “What is wrong with you two? Why does it seem like the two do not know who you yourself are?”

Pat snorts in the fakest way possible, “What do you mean? We are the same as usual!”

“Really?” Ink turns to Pran, “Really?” 

Pran nods hesitantly.

“Then,” Ink sighs, “I sound like an idiot doing this, you two better not be pranking me. But-” Ink sharpens her gaze, sweeps it from Pran to Pat, and then back at Pran, “Tell me. If you two are the same as usual, when did you two start dating again?”

Pran chokes on air. 

WHAT.

No. Ink must be lying. She’s the one who must be pranking them. She’s the one who freely walks through Pat’s house. She should be the one dating-

“No way.” Ink looks terrified now, and that is one look Pran never wants to see on Ink. For somebody so confident in everything she does, if Ink gets terrified , everyone else is basically doomed.

“You two,” Ink takes a difficult breath in, “Cannot remember this?”

Pat exchanges a look with Pran. We have no choice but to tell her , it says. Pran reluctantly agrees.

After all the hesitancy and anxiety Pran goes through telling Ink about their situation, Ink has the audacity to laugh .

“No- wait.” Ink doubles down, still laughing uncontrollably, “You two. You two are your high school selves ? High school? Kids?” Ink stops to laugh again.

“This is not funny.” Pat pouts.

“Okay,” Ink takes a few deep breaths, calming herself, “Yeah, you’re right. This must be a stressful situation for you. Hold on, I’ll call your sister here. She knows the high school version of you two better than me.”

She pauses to take her phone out, and in the silence that takes hold, Pran finally has the moment to process the bomb Ink dropped earlier.

They are dating.

Pat. And him.

He’s dating Pat.

And according to Ink, they’ve been dating for four years.

In secret which isn’t really a secret. 

It is too much to believe.

He glances at Pat, and Pat is already looking at him.

Do you believe what she is saying? Pat mouths at him.

Do we have a choice? Pran replies.

“Okay,” Ink says, already ending the call, “Paa is coming here. She would like you two to know that she is very delighted the two of you are younger than her.” Ink smiles.

Pat groans, “Considering it is Paa, she’ll probably laugh more than she’ll help.”

The silent smile Ink gives him is enough of a response. Pran surprisingly wants to laugh.

Wait. Pran’s thoughts stop in their tracks.

Pat asks for him, “You know Paa?”

Ink smiles, “Oh yeah, you don’t know.” She turns to Pat, “You might want to close your ears.” Pat gives her a questioning look. She clearly didn’t mean that sentence, because before Pat even decides to cover his ears she drops another bomb.

“Paa is my girlfriend.”

At this rate, Pran will not survive.

It takes Paa less than twenty minutes to arrive. 

“Shit.” Paa says the moment she takes a look at them. Pat is sitting on a stool on one end of the kitchen, while Pran is on the other. Ink is standing, leaning against the kitchen counter, smirking. 

Paa sweeps her gaze from Pat to Pran, and then back at Pat, and finally lands it on Ink, “It’s weird seeing these two not all over each other.”

Pran chokes on air again, and Pat looks every bit scandalised. 

“So,” Paa takes another stool from the corner with familiar ease, and sits facing Ink, “How did this happen?”

“I have no idea.” Pat says. Paa turns to Pran, and Pran’s brain provides the reason for their situation which he hadn’t bothered thinking about till now.

“It must be that.” Pran turns to face Pat. “That fortune teller lady.”

Realisation dawns on Pat and he sits up straighter, “Oh. Oh yeah. She did seem sketchy.”

Pran tries to recall what happened in the booth. Her calling them inside, them exchanging confused glances, her clasping both their hands in hers, the eerie atmosphere-

“And,” Pran gets up from his seat, excitement of the understanding creeping up to him, “And she told us about our fortune, remember?”

“Yeah!” Pat gets up too, eyes shining, “And she told us that we’d have a hard earned happy life.”

“Yeah and she said that for our love life-” Pran starts, taking a step towards Pat.

“-she would let us figure it out on our own!” Pat finishes it for him, taking another step towards him.

“Wow,” Paa sighs, “I am sorry for saying that you weren’t all over each other. Clearly you still are.”

Pran belatedly realises both he and Pat have stepped closer to each other and now they’re face to face. He scratches the back of his head and walks back to his seat, Pat smiles in amusement before doing the same.

“So you two met a fortune teller?” Ink asks, after they’ve both settled back into their seats.

“Yeah.” Pran says, explaining in detail what had happened. 

Ink nods in understanding, “I remember going to the field trip, but I don’t remember the specifics.”

“It’s been so long anyways.” Paa says, sighing, “Why did you two have to go to a shady looking place anyways?”

Pran lowers his head in embarrassment. It looked funny , okay? He didn’t know he was going to be shipped to the future!

“Can you think of a way to get back?” Pat asks, and Paa exchanges a glance with Ink.

The silence makes the response clear. Pran sighs. What if- what if they get stuck there? What if they can’t go back? What will happen? What is going on in their current timeline? What-

“We’ll go back.” Pat’s firm and confident voice yanks him back to reality. Pat is staring at him, voice resolute, “Didn’t she say we would ‘ figure out the future of our love ourselves ’? Maybe” -Pat turns towards the desk full of their memories- “maybe we need to find out something related to love?”

Paa clasps her hands together, “Maybe you need to figure out how you two fell in love?”

Pran sits up straighter, the situation not seeming so bad. It seems as if the answer to their problem is pretty clear-

“But that,” Ink speaks up slowly, “is so vague. Who knows when they started falling in love? Is it when they started falling in love, or when they started dating? Is it when they realise their feelings? Which one is it?”

Pran’s heart which had started thumping at the earlier breakthrough feels conflicted again. It really was too vague. 

He knew he liked Pat. It took him a long time to accept, but he did. But Pat? Pat was different. Didn’t Pat have a crush on Ink? Every rumour about Pat talked about either his rivalry with Pran, or his crush on Ink. How could they find out how - if - they fall in love?

There was only one way to know. Pran takes a deep breath, “Can you tell us what you know about our relationship?”

“Wow so formal” Ink mumbles, smiling, “Of course. You two started dating in secret around…your second year of college? I think it was around that time. Right, Paa?”

Paa nods, “You were separated for three years after P’Pran had transferred to a different school-”

What.

“What?” Pat voices out Pran’s thoughts, “Pran was transferred to a different school?”

Why?

Paa shrugs, “Because you two played a song together at the Christmas concert. P’Pran’s mother found out.”

Pran has so many questions, but his voice refuses to come out. Pat looks like he’s having the same issue.

Ink smirks, looking at the two of them, “Oh? Why do you two look like you don’t like that idea? Don’t you two hate each other?”

Pran stares at her dumbfounded.

“Anyways,” Paa stops her girlfriend from throwing unanswerable questions again, “You two were separated for three years, but joined the same college, in rival faculties.” She rolls her eyes, “You two can never let anybody else catch their break too. What kind of soulmate shit do you two have all the time?”

Pran barely has any time to register the previous information before Ink is speaking again, “And then things happened and then you started getting along around the end of first year?” She turns to Paa to clarify.

Paa nods her head, “Yeah I think it was the architecture trip. Hia joined the architecture trip with P’Pran, and then after that you two suddenly got along very well. Hia talked quite a lot about the architecture trip at that time.”

“What happened during the architecture trip?” Pran asks.

Paa shrugs, “Who knows? Neither of you told us, and we thought it would be a private matter for you two so we never asked.”

“Except that it must have been something precious to you two.” Ink says, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Why?” Pat asks.

“Because you two keep going back to the place you went for the trip. You usually visit once a year.” Paa answers him.

“You know,” Ink says, getting off the counter and dragging a stool near Paa and sitting down, “Maybe the fortune teller wanted you to figure out your feelings before you got separated, or maybe she didn’t want you two to get separated in the first place. We can never know for sure. But I know that she sent your younger selves here so that you can avoid all your problems before they take you away from each other. The best thing you can do right now is figure out your feelings. I feel like the only way you can go back is when you have all of that sorted out.”

Pran exchanges a look with Pat, maybe that is all they can do for now.

The postcards and photos only provide minimum information. Less than half an hour and they’ve already read and analysed everything. Except for the fact that the beach pictures may be from the place the architecture trip took place (Paa confirmed it was), and that they sent each other letters from Singapore and back, there was really nothing else to be looked at.

Which only left one option.

“Do we start from here?” Pran asks, hands hesitantly moving towards the drawers on the desk.

“Yeah, we need to find all the letters they- we -” Pat takes a deep breath, not knowing what to call their future selves, “ whatever our future selves sent each other. We should have clues there.”

“But,” Pran groans and rubs his face in frustration, “Aren’t we breaching their privacy? We’re literally reading their private letters!”

“And?” Pat snaps, “Not that we have any choice? Anyways, if we are the only ones who can reverse whatever body switch has happened, then our future selves must be stuck in our high school bodies!”

Pran stops groaning at that.

“If.” Pat sighs, “If we cannot find a way back, what will they do? If they really like each other , can they live in a world where they are physically kept apart by their entire existence?”

Pran’s throat runs dry.

“I won’t ever let a person stay away from somebody they cherish, Pran. No matter who they are.”

Pran closes his eyes, and sighs again, silently asking their future selves’ forgiveness for reading their letters. He yanks open the drawer. It is more cluttered than the board on top of the desk, filled with bills and receipts and more post it notes. Underneath it all, is a file filled with letters, well kept and sorted according to the date. Pran feels a sense of guilt on reading them.

Some letters are not really important, mostly about work and friends, talking about their day or weather. Some of them have tearfully written ‘I miss you so much I wish I could fly to you right now’ , some have them bickering like they always do. 

It makes Pran smile, how close they seem in the letters. How understanding, how comfortable. It hurts him even more when he thinks of what they might be facing now that they might be in their high school bodies. 

He swipes through to the next letter. It’s from Pat, and he had to be either drunk or crying, because his handwriting is messier, and Pran can feel his chest tighten up when he sees lines like, ‘ the shirt does not have your smell anymore. The more I try to think of it, the more I feel like I forget it. I miss you, Pran. I wish you could come back sooner. ’

Pran can feel his eyes sting, tears threatening to fall. There’s something so tragic about finally being able to escape and be free, and then get caught up in reality, and be separated again.

At least this time they know they love each other. Pran doesn’t even want to think of his transfer Paa mentioned. How did he deal with it? Without his mother, without Pat, without his friends? He must have felt so alone. He shudders at the thought that he might have to face this someday.

A thumb caresses his cheek, and that is when Pran realises a stray tear has escaped his eyes. He furiously blinks to shove the remaining tears back in, and Pat whispers softly, “What’s wrong?”

Pran shakes his head, “Nothing.”

“Does our dear Parakul cry over nothing?”

Pran tries his best to send Pat a glare.

Which doesn’t work, clearly, because Pran feels like he’s about to cry again. And Pat notices, of course he does.

“Pran.” Pat sounds worried, “What’s wrong?”

Pran shakes his head, “It’s just…I feel bad for them. And myself. I don’t even know.”

Surprisingly, Pat nods.

“I know what you’re feeling.” He sighs, “Do you…do you really want to go back?”

Pran chokes out a humourless laugh, “You were the one who said we have to. Why? Are you considering not going back now?”

Pat shakes his head, “No I- we have to go back. It’s just that” - Pat slinks down to the floor and sits down - “I am glad they get to live a happy life. They are clearly in love, they are happy. And I am happy for them.”

Pran sits down beside him, and Pat continues, “But I also feel jealous. The future Pat can talk to you as much as he wants. I can’t. I am not even allowed to look in your direction when our parents are around. If they can have it, why can we not?”

“What did we even do wrong that we have to be separated like this?” Pran says, and he knows that is what Pat is thinking too. Pat smiles weakly.

Nothing , Pran’s brain provides, and he knows it too.

They did nothing wrong.

Ink calls them in the evening, asking if they want any dinner. Pat finds some cup noodles in one of the cabinets, and they decide to settle for dinner with that. It’s not the best dinner, but it lets them read and gather clues about their love while eating dinner.

Till now, they have found quite a lot of things, but nothing gives away when or how they fell in love. Pran knew it was not something which happened suddenly, there was no solid line after which you knew you liked somebody. The line was hazy at best.

He sighs, the way it is going, they might not be able to figure out a way to go back by tomorrow. The next day was Monday, and work starts on Monday. They possibly could not handle work. They didn’t know anything about their respective professions.

“Heh, looks like Junior is going to university soon!” Pat looks up at Pran in excitement, and Pran can’t help but laugh helplessly at the puppy in front of him. How could he be excited over a person he hasn’t met yet. It is still something he loves dearly about Pat.

Pat sighs looking at Pran’s expression, “You’re thinking useless thoughts again. What’s the point of mulling over if we’ll be able to get back or not? The most we can do right now is try to find ways to go back, not cry over our situation.”

“I’m not crying.”

“ That’s all you pick up from that entire sentence?”

Pran smiles, genuine. It is dumb arguing with Pat, but it is fun.

“You’re finally smiling.” Pat says, slurping down noodles.

“I can smile whenever I want.” Pran drains the last of the noodles down his throat, and gets up to throw the empty packet in the dustbin. Pat quickly follows him, doing the same.

After throwing the trash in the bin, Pran prepares to settle down and read the remaining post-it notes and letters (which, he regretfully accepts, are very interesting and fun to read, even if he doesn’t get the context sometimes) when Pat grabs his share and starts walking towards the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Pran asks.

“Bed. The floor is uncomfortable.”

“But the bed isn’t yours!” Pran exclaims.

Pat shrugs, “It’s my future self’s, and I know my future self would not want me to sit on an uncomfortable floor.”

“It’s also my future self’s bed.” Pran tries.

“Your future self loves my future self. He will agree.”

He takes a few steps towards the room, but turns around when he senses Pran isn’t following him.

“Are you going to just stand there?” Pat sighs.

“What?” Pran doesn’t know what to say.

Pat sighs again, walks towards Pran while supporting all the pieces of paper on one arm, and grabs his wrist, “Come on, don’t sit on the floor, we can compare the letters easier when we are together.”

Pran is dumbstruck enough to follow Pat’s lead. 

“Here,” Pat says when he settles down comfortably on the bed, “I’ve looked through my share of the letters. Now only the post-it notes are left.”

Pran looks at the two more letters he has left to read. He sighs, bracing himself. The last few letters had been about their families, and while nothing is mentioned as to what had happened, it seemed like their future selves knew why their families hated each other.

‘ It’s not your fault, what your father did is not your fault, Pat. ’, one of the letters from future Pran had said. Pran had intentionally left out that part when they were discussing the contents of the letters. He doesn’t have the courage to tell Pat that maybe it’s his father who had caused their family’s rivalry. Maybe they’ll get to figure it out on their own in their actual timelines, maybe they won't. He won’t tell him now, though.Their problem here was enough to cause a headache, they didn’t need another one.

Pat laughs beside him, and Pran is momentarily distracted away from the letter by it.

“Look at this,” Pat says, scooting closer to Pran, “It says here, ‘ Don’t look so thirstily at me, take my iced tea ’. Which one of us must have written this?” He laughs again.

Only you write shit like this , Pran wanted to retort, until he saw that the handwriting looked eerily similar to his. He changes his words, “Look for clues, not nonsense!”

“But this is cute!”

“Only you would find it cute.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re dating me.”

Pran chokes on air for the third time today. At this rate he will die by choking on air before he can reach his actual body.

“ We aren’t dating! It’s our future selves!” Pran flails his arms to make a point.

Pat shrugs, “Same thing.”

“How in the world is that the same thing?!?!” Pran yells back.

Does Pat not realise how much it affects Pran? He does not want to think about it, hell he’s actively trying to treat this as some alternate reality. What if this is a different timeline, an alternate universe? What if their actual lives don’t end up this way? What if they’re not destined to end up with each other in their actual timelines? 

Pran does not want to live in baseless hope. It’s too painful to live that way.

Pat goes silent at that, as if deep in thought. He opens his mouth to speak, and then shuts it, debating whether to speak it out or not. In the end, he takes a deep breath, and asks slowly, “Pran, do you not like the idea of being with me?”

Not like? Pran has been dreaming about it since even before he realised he liked Pat! He’s wanted it for as long as he remembers living. Pran had always wanted to be with Pat, their parents' rivalry taking the second priority. His first priority had and will always be Pat. But he does not have the courage to say any of it.

Instead, he takes a deep breath, and smiles, almost melancholy, “Do you?”

Pat falls silent at that.

Neither of them can talk about it, it seems.

Pran sighs, “Let’s get back to reading the notes.”

Pat sits, looking at the notes before he lets them down on the bed, “What if this isn’t the way?”

“Huh?”

“What if finding out when our future selves fall in love isn’t the way?”

Pran stops to think, “Do we have any other idea though?”

Pat hesitates for a moment before pushing the letters and post-it notes aside, “You know, all this time, I thought I liked Ink.”

Pran internally sighs, he does not want this conversation.

“She’s a great person, fun to talk to.” Pat sighs, smiling. Pran nods, heart sinking more and more with each passing second.

“But when I heard that Ink is dating Paa, I thought I should feel bad. I should feel jealous, right? If I liked her?”

Pran looks up at him, curious. What is with his tone?

Pat chuckles, “I thought I’d feel something like that. But I didn’t.”

Before Pran can realise, his heart has started thumping wildly, “What?”

“Sure, it would be cool if I get to be with her, I do know I at least like her a little. But if she ends up with my sister, I will be more happy for them than be sad for myself.” He smiles.

“You-” Pran takes a breath to control his heartbeat (he fails, of course), “You really don’t feel sad?”

Pat shakes his head, still smiling, “Ink and Paa look good together.” He chuckles again, “It would be fun to tease Paa.”

Pran can feel his lips tugging upwards. He tries to tamp down his excitement. 

“Besides,” Pat continues, scratching the back of his head, suddenly sheepish, “I dreaded you leaving for a different school more than Ink dating Paa.”

Pran can barely hear Pat over his roaring heartbeat. He can feel his face flush, and the way Pat is avoiding his eyes, he knows Pat is getting redder too.

“Why?” Pran asks, just because he wants to be a piece of shit, happiness pouring through his words.

“ Pran. ” Pat groans, turning his head away, an unspoken plea to stop asking questions. 

“No, tell me.” Pran sits up straighter, cupping Pat’s cheeks to make him face Pran, “Why do you feel bad thinking that I’ll leave you?” Is this what he thinks it is? Does Pat feel the same way as him? Hope keeps bubbling under Pran’s skin, and he can’t help but smile.

“You know what it is, stop teasing me!” Pat has that embarrassed smile on, the one he usually has whenever he is too shy to speak about something. Which is rarely ever , and Pran is going to savour whatever crumb he’ll get of it.

Pran laughs, giddy and loud, clutching his sides with one hand, and the headboard of the bed with the other. He doesn’t even know what is making him laugh. The fact that Pat might like him? Or that they do end up together? Or that all of this is so incredibly ridiculous that he still almost believes it is a very vivid dream? He doesn’t know. So he laughs, and Pat scoffs at him.

“Why are you not flustered! We are apparently dating, how are you not even a bit flustered?!” Pat crosses his arms in front of his chest, pouting.

“I don’t know? It still feels unreal?”

“What about the fact that we ended up with each other? We are rivals for fuck’s sake? Our families hate each other! Don’t you find it weird?”

Pran smiles, “Not really.” He makes a mistake of averting his eyes.

“Pran.” 

He still keeps looking away.

“Pran, look at me.”

Pran turns towards him, but refuses to look directly into Pat’s eyes.

“Why do you not seem surprised by the fact that your future self likes me?”

Pran swallows hard, standing on the other end of teasing really was embarrassing.

“Because, I already…knew?” He lifts his head to look at Pat’s eyes cautiously.

“What the fuck.” Pat takes a sharp breath, “You already liked me?”

“Like.” Pran corrects, even before he can stop himself.

Pat stops speaking, frozen.

After an entire eternity, Pat finally speaks again, “Since when?”

Pran shrugs, looking away again, “I don’t know, I just know I…like you.”

“Oh.” Pat says, and falls silent.

“It’s like,” Pran finds himself justifying, “It built over a period of time? Like- I don’t know.”

He glances at Pat, trying to discern his thoughts. Pat looks more expressionless than ever.

“Weren’t you scared?” Pat asks, softly.

“Huh?”

Pat glances down at his hands, “It’s like, our parents hate each other. Our entire universe forces us away from each other. Don’t these feelings…scare you?”

Pran smiles sadly, “Of course. I was in denial for months.” Pat smiles along with him.

“Combine that with the fact that I had to cope with me being attracted to men,” Pran laughs humorlessly, “It was hard not to hate myself.”

Pat holds his hand, “But you did nothing wrong.”

Pran smiles at the gesture, “I know, but when the entire world revolves around one norm, going against it is…scary.” He chuckles, “Worse is when you realise you have a crush on your enemy on top of that.”

Pat laughs along with him, “So you don’t like women?”

Pran shakes his head, “Never have.”

Pat pauses, scratching the back of his head, “But I think I do like women…”

“Maybe you like both?” Pran suggests.

Pat tilts his head to the side, “I…do you really think of gender? When you like someone, I mean?”

Pran nods, “More than ‘ think’ it’s like I don’t like women at all.”

Pat sighs, “I think….I think I don’t really mind gender? As long as I feel comfortable with them?”

Pran settles his head comfortably on the pillow, pulling Pat down to lay down beside him. It’s wild how he is going from anxious to giddy to comfortable with Pat’s presence, and he’s not complaining.

Pat lets himself be dragged down, shifting to lay down comfortably while still holding Pran’s hand.

“I want to know more,” Pat says, and Pran raises a questioning eyebrow at him. Pat presses the eyebrow down back to it’s normal position. “Tell me more, how did you realise, how did you figure it out?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I want to know.”

“It’s sort of stupid.”

“Then I want to know that even more!”

Pran slaps Pat’s arm lightly, “Asshole!”

Pat laughs, and Pran finds himself laughing alongside him.

Pran hums and talks, Pat listens, asking questions at some points, quietly smiling at some. It’s so comfortable, that little bubble of just them in an unfamiliar place, being the most familiar with each other.

They fall asleep together.

It takes a moment for Pran’s sleep disoriented brain to remember he was supposed to be with Pat.

He pulls his body upright as soon as he remembers, and pats the side of his bed. Empty. And then he realises he is back in his actual room, narrower bed and narrower room, his own childhood room. 

He swallows, throat dry. Was it all just a dream?

He walks up to his window and pries it open, but the window on the other side is closed, Pat is probably still sleeping.

Dread creeps up his spine, was it all just a dream? It was too vivid, too real. But it couldn’t have been real. He swallows again, dropping his face into his palms. How dumb can he be? There’s no way Pat could like him back. Or be dating him.

He laughs, irritated at his own self, eyes stinging with tears he does not want to shed, not for a dream so beautiful he almost believed it. He sighs, takes a deep breath, and blinks away the emotions along with his tears.

“Pran, are you up?” His mother’s voice sounds muffled from downstairs.

“I’m up, mom!” He replies.

“Hurry up, did you oversleep? You’ll be late for school!”

I’m coming, Pran wants to say, but the words get lodged in his throat.

School?

If that was a dream, then today should be a Sunday.

He scrambles to get his phone, and unlocks it. 

7:30am. Monday.

His heart thumps wildly. 

Monday.

The ends of his lips tug upwards. Monday. Which either means he slept for an entire 24 hours, or-

Or that wasn’t a dream.

He rushes to the bathroom to get ready. He must go to school.

He needs to see Pat.

“What took you so long?” His mother smiles and serves him breakfast.

“Overslept.” He replies, a hint of apology in his tone.

His father shakes his head, “It’s alright, it’s alright. Sometimes you need to be late for school too, it’s a part of life!”

Pran smiles, shoving whatever food is in front of him into his mouth. He cannot pay attention to anything around him right now, he needs to first confirm yesterday’s events with Pat first.

“So,” his mother says, narrowing her eyes teasingly, “What dish are you going to cook for us today?”

Pran scrunches his eyebrows in confusion.

His father laughs, “What? Do you not remember? Yesterday you said you’d cook and made the perfect replica of your mother’s best curry.”

Pran gapes at him. Oh. Oh no.

It must be his future self. He can’t really tell his parents that.

“Although it was a little less spicy,” His mother says, before taking another bite of her food, “it was still the same way as I make it. How is my child so smart that he can learn how to cook it by just watching me?”

Pran smiles, mind whirring trying to think of an excuse, “You’re so good at cooking I can learn it just by watching.”

His parents laugh, and his mother waves a hand, smiling, “Where did you learn how to sweet-talk like that?”

Pat smiles, and hopes his dimples can avoid further questions.

His father saves him from his misery, “High school kids have lots of homework though, maybe you won’t be able to give us a taste of another dish you learnt from your mother.”

“Another time.” Pran says, and they agree. Pran sweats thinking of how he’s going to manage learning how to cook by the next time his parents ask him to. He curses at his future self.

It takes ages to get to his school, and he barely greets anybody while dashing through the corridors to reach his class.

Pat is seated along with his friends, laughing and joking around like he always does.

Pran opens his mouth to call him, but stops himself. What if-

What if all of that was a dream? And he’s miscalculating? Won’t it be too idiotic of him to call Pat? They don’t get along in this timeline anyways. Maybe he shouldn't-

“Pran!” Pat gets up from his seat after he notices him, and walks up to him, smiling widely.

Other students murmur amongst themselves, watching the two great rivals of their class talking to each other without throwing insults.

Pat stops short after hearing the whispers, and Pran notices a hint of hesitancy in Pat’s eyes. 

Ah, Pran smiles, thinking, He doesn’t know if it was real either.

“I think we need to have a chat.” Pran says, mirroring the smile Pat had when he greeted Pran, and Pat’s smile returns.

“Yeah.” Pat replies, smiling wider.

Maybe this time, falling in love will not take that long.