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“Are you sure this is not the colour you ordered?”
Pran looks at his boyfriend through the lenses of his glasses, eyebrows raised and an evident frown on his face. He shoves the set of bedding set they had ordered – online all the way from Italy because someone only wanted Sferra duvets – to Pat’s face. “Are you joking?”
It was Pat’s turn to frown as he heaved another box of packed kitchen utensils on their new marble countertop. “You tell me. They literally look the same from the picture,”
Pran groans at that and shoves the sheets further up his boyfriend’s face. “I’m the one wearing glasses-
“And you look very sexy with them,”
-And you’re still more blind than me,” he snaps. “We ordered pastel neon blue. They gave us turquoise!”
Pat tries to hide his smile; the keyword being tries. Pran looks very much annoyed by the fact that their three hours of scrolling through the website to find a perfect colour for their bedsheets – Pran mumbling colour combinations and Pat kissing every inch of skin he can find while waiting for Pran to finish – was belittled to an ugly – Pran’s words, not his – blue bedsheet.
Either way, Pat found his boyfriend’s dissatisfaction very endearing. Especially when he bites his lips in a way where his unhappy dimples pop out. Unhappy for Pran, very much happy for Pat. So Pat coos and walks turning his body to face Pran as he pulls his unhappy baby in his arms.
Pran drops the sheets to the ground almost immediately when Pat hugs him, exhaling in contentment when he feels the familiar fingers scratching his nape. “I’ll send those back first thing after we settle things here, okay baby?” Pat uses his high-pitched, baby voice, a voice he reserves for Pran and Pran only. And so far, Pran seems to like it a lot when he gets coddled during his sick days.
As for now, Pran is not necessarily sick, he’s just suffering a very annoying broken ankle. As much as he wants to assemble everything in their new home – and by that he means making sure Pat doesn’t fuck up the perfect alignments and colour-coded decorative items he had purchased for this house – Pat had taken it into his own responsibility to make their house a home all by himself.
Pran had suggested they wait until his ankle had healed so he could help with the work, but Pat had insisted he would do all the work while Pran sits and gave him instructions. He looks so adorable when he tried to convince Pran, and Pran was only a man when it came to his puppy boyfriend.
Pran shakes his head now when he hears Pat ask him again about the sheets. “It would be a waste of money now. And I really want to sleep in our bed tonight,” he mumbles. “We can get a nicer one tomorrow,”
Pat awards him with a small kiss to his three temples before beginning his first task for the day;
The Kitchen.
“Pat it says here only three screws for the upper rack,” Pran reads the instruction manual for the new spice rack he had bought. Pat is sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor of their kitchen, fastening his fourth screw onto the latch.
“Yeah, but it’s a little shaky here,” Pat mumbles mostly to himself while slotting the screw at a place where it was not supposed to be.
“That’s because you screwed them up wrongly,” Pran states. He points to an opening that was void of any screw. “The third one is supposed to be here, babe,”
Pat, stubborn and competitive with Pran as it is, shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure it’s in the right place, honey,”
“But the instructions clearly sai-
“We won’t go anywhere in life if we follow a piece of paper,”
“Keep your philosophical shit to yourself. We both know it’s the wrong move,”
Pat pauses, tries to find his words, and when he does, he opens his mouth-
-And the halfway assembled rack comes tumbling down to the ground, hitting Pat painfully against his shin. Pat groans, holding on to the remaining joined pieces in one hand while rubbing his bruised shin with another.
Pat looks at Pran with his largest doe eyes and a pout. “Praaaan,” he whines adorably and Pran has no heart in him to tease his boyfriend now. With a soft exhale of air and a small hidden smile, Pran motions for Pat to shuffle closer to where he sits on one of the dining table chairs.
Pat obliges quickly, gathering the pieces of the rack and grabbing the toolbox as he shuffles using his knees, close enough until Pran gets to pinch his cheek. “Ah, ah, ah,” Pran coos quietly despite it being only them in the house. “Try again. I’ll help you through it,”
In the morning of the first day in their first home together, Pran quietly reads through the instructions for Pat. And when they’re done, Pat sits on the floor with his head on Pran’s lap, and watches his boyfriend fasten the hooks to their countless spice jars.
The Office
“Do we really need an office?” Pat asks just as he helps Pran limp his way into the second room for Pat’s second task of the day.
Pran grips onto Pat’s taut biceps as he lowers himself down on one of the office chairs they had purchased. “Yes, because who in their right mind would attend conference calls in their bedroom? At midnight. With me sleeping in the background,”
Pat huffs and crosses his arms like a diva. “I don’t always switch my camera on,”
“Enough of this,” Pran slaps the box of documents he had graciously packed for them and points to the empty bookshelf on either side of the room. “Pick a side and arrange these papers there,”
Pran to remove the boxes, rearrange documents chronologically and counts them for the umpteenth time before handing them over to Pat for storage. Pat waits patiently because as much as he is impatient, living with Pran and having the patience to endure his meticulous self has rewarded Pat in more ways than he could ever imagine.
While he waits for Pran to sort the documents out, Pat arranges the large mahogany desk his father had gifted to them right in the middle of the room. He angles it perfect enough that the large, rectangular window pane is directly behind the desk. That way, Pran would have a perfect background and view whenever he has international video conferences.
“Babe, look,” Pat motions to the desk. “It’s a great spot, right?”
Pran looks up, his lips bitten hard in concentration. His eyes soften and he shoots Pat an encouraging smile and nod. Pat beams and continues to fiddle with the desk, covering its corners with important stationeries and the portable printer. They keep both their working gadgets and briefcases in a compartment right under the desk. Pat thinks it’s a waste, Pran thinks it’s neat and tidy.
When the office is almost organized, Pat moves to where Pran sits on his office chair and offers him a cheeky smile. Pran knew that look; he eyes Pat suspiciously. “My crutches are not here to bonk your head. Don’t even think about doing your monkey business here,”
All Pat does is shrug with a mocking pout and help Pran stand up. Pran obliges his cheeky husband with a roll of his eyes. Pran holds steadily onto Pat as he stands, staggering a little. Pat takes the seat where Pran had been sitting just one second ago. And in one swift movement, he pulls his husband down onto his lap, securing Pran’s body by wrapping an arm around his waist.
The chair rocks dangerously, of course it would when two grown men sit on it. Pran smacks his husband; “Asshole, the chair is going to break,” he nags but Pat only hums and pulls Pran closer to kiss his cheeks.
“We need to check if this chair is.. sturdy enough for vigorous activities,” Pat wiggles his eyebrows and Pran continues smacking his husband to mask the sudden flush of red against his face.
“I’m not having sex with you in our office,” Pran deadpans, arms going around Pat’s broad shoulders.
Pat nods, not having one bit of Pran’s words. “That’s what you said about the kitchen too; but then you saw me in biker shorts and somebody just could not keep his dick in his pants,”
“Someday your shameless mouth is going to cost you a big deal of regret,”
“Well in the meantime, let this shameless mouth su-
Pran slaps a hand over Pat quick enough to stop him from blabbering nonsense that would most definitely lead to them fucking on the shaky office chair. They still had many things to do, and Pran was not going to let his husband distract him again.
“Finish the house, and then think about this,” Pran points to himself with a small smile. Pat pouts excessively but obliges like the good husband he is.
“What’s next?”
The Living Room
Pat had carried Pran to where their living room is, setting him down on the sea blue couch they had purchased for the house. The living room is almost done; furnished with all the pieces Pran had picked out and arranged exactly the way he wanted it. The only thing left was making their living room look less like it came out of IKEA and more like their home.
Pran is already unboxing the stack of mementoes and souvenirs they had purchased on every vacation they had gone to. The frames are all colour coded for each part of the walls and Pat honestly doesn’t dare to question his husband. He merely stands in the middle of the living room, hammer and nail in one hand as he waits for Pran’s instructions.
Pran, Pat realised, was taking a god-awful long time to decide which frame goes where. So Pat sits next to his husband, wraps his arms around Pran’s waist and buries his nose in Pran’s sandalwood-scented hair, inhaling to his heart’s desires. Pran tsks and nags at Pat to stop disrupting his focus but Pat couldn’t help it.
This was their home, and there they were, putting their touches on it.
“We’ve come a long way, huh?”
Pran stops fiddling with the frame, instead, looks at it. The frame is between them when Pat whispers those words. It just so happens to be Pran’s favourite memory of them, aside from their wedding of course. It was their trip to the beach; the first time they came there as a couple, without hiding or running away from their parents.
Pran still remembers that night. They both had a horrible day at work and when Pran came home first, no words were spoken. Pat quietly packed his and Pran’s bags while Pran called Uncle Tong. They switched off their phones for the weekend and travelled to the beach as lovers. The picture had been taken by Junior who had caught them sitting by the beach, way too deeply mesmerized by each other to even talk.
Pat glowed under the sunset and his hair flew in the picture. Even from a distance, Pran could see his soft smile and small eyes. He loved that picture so much.
Looking back at his husband now, Pran places a hand over Pat’s that had been resting on his thigh. He nudges his Pat with his head and smiles, “Yeah, we have,” Pran whispers. The smile Pat gives him is added to his virtual folder of Pat’s blinding smiles.
“I-
Pat stops himself, laughing at the way his voice cracks. Pran shuffles closer, slotting his hand into Pat’s clenched ones and bringing them to his lips for a soft kiss. Pat smiles through his shimmering wide eyes.
“It’s annoying but I’m getting emotional,” he croaks.
“You always do,” Pran retorts, laughing when Pat smacks his husband.
“Can I have a kiss?” Pat whispers.
Pran obliges, turning his head to the side and capturing Pat’s lips in his with a soft kiss. Their linked hands rest against Pran’s heart while Pat’s free hand travels up to cup his jaw, deepening the kiss. Pat nudges Pran’s mouth open and coaxes his tongue inside, swallowing the soft moans that Pran let out.
Pat uses both his hands to wrap around Pran’s waist and push him down against the couch on his back, cupping the back of his head when it lands on the soft sea blue pillows. Pran gasps and wraps his arms around Pat’s neck, fingers slipping into his soft and thick hair.
Pran, very much affected by the soft kisses Pat gives him, does not notice the lips that trail across his cheeks down his neck. The hand on his head pulls it back to expose Pran’s throat and Pat gives a light suck on the swell of his Adam’s apple. Pran gasps; “Was this your plan all along?”
Pat chuckles darkly along the length of Pran’s throat, pressing their erections closer. “We have all the time in the world, theerak. Let me be close to you for now. I need it,”
Pran can’t lie. He needed it very badly too.
It’s almost sunset when they wake up from their deep slumber, cocooned by the sheets and Pran is cocooned by his husband’s warm body. He traces the tips of his fingers along the swell of his biceps that were wrapped around him. They’re both crammed into the curve of their very new, very much sweat-stained couch. Thank god for the towel Pran had forced Pat to go get or else the couch would be stained with something else too.
Pat is on top of him, his lower regions covered with the sheets (also, thanks to Pran’s quick thinking) and his face is smothered against Pran’s bruised neck. He’s sleeping peacefully on Pran while Pran draws weird patterns over the hardened muscles on his husband’s back.
The orange light of the sun is already seeping through their windows and decorating Pat’s golden skin. He looked like a bronze statue on top of Pran. However, Pran knew that if they slept any longer, the house wouldn’t be finished in time for their housewarming party tomorrow.
So Pran carefully wakes his husband up with soft kisses on the folds of his neck, rubbing his back and any part of his skin that Pran could feel. Pat wakes up after a while when Pran whispers his name multiple times. He raises his head, eyes heavy with sleep and hair in a mess.
“Wake up, baby,” Pran caresses the sleep imprints on Pat’s red cheeks with a soft smile. “We still have a lot to do,”
Pat hums, slumping back on Pran’s bare chest. “What time is it?” Pat mumbles. Pran checks his watch and whispers 6.15 to Pat. His husband nods albeit reluctantly and gets up from Pran after a long kiss. Pran ignores his very naked husband standing before him to slip on his boxer shorts. He knew that if he stared at Pat’s ass any longer, they would not leave the couch at all.
Pat opts to remain in just his boxers as he walked around the house, which is absolute hell for Pran, but he remains stoic, never faltering by the view. While Pat walks around the house to switch on the lights of their dimming home, Pran pulls the sheets over his bare body and wraps them around his waist as he watches Pat.
The frames were almost sorted out to Pran’s wishes, so he hands them over to Pat and instructs him to hang them on the left side of their television.
Pat is in a cranky mood, probably because Pran had woken him up from his most favourite part of the day. Cuddling with Pran.
“Why are these so complicated?” Pat mumbles to himself, staring long at the tiny numbers Pran had scribbled at the back of each frame for Pat to follow.
“Just follow the numbers,” Pran instructs, finding for his glasses that Pat had taken off somewhere along the way. When he finds them, Pran continues to sort out the remaining frames.
“Why do you always make everything look like a puzzle?”
“Just pound the nails against the wall, Pat,” Pran sighs.
“I’ll pound you against the wall,”
“Pat!”
They had one final thing to do after hanging all the frames and placing all the mini souvenirs in their glass showcase; Hanging their wedding photo.
It was something both Pat and Pran had been dancing around; the domesticity of it. They were just two boys, falling in love with each other without even knowing at first. Two boys who tried very hard to be just friends. Nobody expected them to find their missing piece, their other half, their soul throughout this journey.
Pran, even in love with Pat for his whole life, had never once imagined the prospect of marrying him. It was too intimate to dream about his rival/best friend. The idea of marriage only surfaced when they both were working and Pat had been caught surfing the Internet for engagement rings.
That night had been filled with tears, laughter and a whole load of wine. They never had surprise proposals or long monologues about how much they loved each other. It was one drunken night when both Pat and Pran lay on the patio of their apartment and planned their wedding filled with white and gold, who they would call, how they would tell their parents and who would give the dowry.
And then the next day, they simply drove to a jewellery store and bought each other very expensive diamond rings. It was one of Pran’s most cherished memories of them. The simplicity of it. Just Pat and Pran.
However, as much as they wanted to have a wedding that fitted perfectly with their simple proposal, none of their friends and family would let them be. Instead, Pat and Pran were dragged into an elaborate and extravagant wedding planned by Paa herself. They were thankful of course, it’s not every day Pat and Pran get to showcase their love for each other in front of a large crowd.
They’ve been dating in secret for years, of course they would want to scream about their love for each other.
Now, both husbands stare at the large frame that covered their coffee table. Pat and Pran are clad in black suits, Pat looking handsome as ever with his hair styled back, one strand falling down his forehead. Pran looks ethereal, Pat thinks; his husband never pushes his hair back nor does he use hair gel. But that morning when Pat had met Pran with his hair slicked, he had almost cried at how beautiful Pran looked and how lucky he was that Pran was all his.
They stare at the picture together; A candid look taken by Ink of Pran throwing his head back with laughter while he fights off Pat’s cream-stained lips, aiming to attack his neck. They’re both smiling wide, forehead beaded with sweat, faces flushed, eyes small and no inch of space between them. Even their wedding rings shone beautifully under the artificial fairy lights that night.
“God we are such saps,” Pat laughs to himself, noting the way his tensed shoulders match with Pran’s.
Pran smiles. “I never knew hanging up a picture could feel so.. overwhelming,”
“You’re just sooo happy you got yourself a very sexy husband,” he tries to joke and Pran does not even find the energy to retort.
He simply looks up to where Pat stands and smiles wide enough that Pat’s cheeky grin falters and he is being choked up by the love again. “I’m happy too,” he mumbles to himself, matching Pran’s smile.
“Now, lets get this over with; I want to boast about my beautiful house and my even more beautiful husband to everyone tomorrow,”
And so, as usual, Pat wipes away his husband’s tears, helps him stand and together they hang the last frame in the living room for everyone to see. For everyone to see their everlasting love for each other.