Work Text:
Sol’s first visit to Singapore (7 months)
Pat had been washing the dishes along with Sol’s milk bottle after dinner. Sol had just fallen asleep a few minutes ago and he couldn’t afford to wake the baby up. If she did, it would be yet another sleepless night for them.
Pat had taken a whole week off to visit Pran after realising that his annual leave in his new job was still untouched. Back when he worked for his father almost four months ago, Pat never had allocated leaves simply because it was his father’s company. Now that he’s working in a new place, Pat had 18 days of paid leave while another 14 days of paid medical leave.
Still, being the ambitious worker he is, Pat had barely noticed the unused holidays. He figured it would be best to use it on the only thing that mattered. And that is Pran. However, as much as Pat has many free days, his hardworking boyfriend could only afford to take two days off for his family. Pran had a very important project that was recently trusted into his hands. Pat knew that Pran wouldn’t be able to spend his time peacefully with his family.
Even now, Pran works in his room with Sol sleeping on Pat’s side as he waits for Pat to finish cleaning.
But then, Pat feels familiar cool arms snake around his waist and he jumps from the surprising contact. Pran’s wet lips land on his nape in a fluttering kiss and Pat leans into it. He wonders how long it has been since they fooled around like this. Pat finds himself shivering as Pran holds him tighter under the dim lights of the kitchen and place the softest kisses along his neck.
“Sorry,” Pran whispers, lips moving under Pat’s earlobe.
Pat wipes his wet hands on the hand towel by the counter and hums as he finds for other work to do. Pran is still kissing his warm neck and leaving the cool air to attack it after. Pat shakes his head softly, enough for Pran to feel its movement.
“I understand that my boyfriend is busy,” Pat leans back in the bracket of Pran’s arms, closing his eyes and feeling Pran’s lips trail down the junction of his neck and shoulder. One hand trails up to push the thin sleeve of Pat’s tank top down his shoulder. Pran kisses the exposed skin right over the curve of his shoulder.
“Sol is sleeping,” Pran whispers, mouthing at the swell of Pat’s shoulder bone, sucking lightly until he feels Pat spasm under his touch with a soft gasp.
“Yes, and if you m-make- ah,” Pat bites back a moan when Pran cheekily slips his hand inside his shirt to brush his cold fingers along the nub of Pat’s nipples. “I-if you make a single noise, hm, she’ll wake up,”
Pran’s hum comes right next to Pat’s ear. He turns his lover around, caging Pat against the counter as he smiles mischievously. He doesn’t give Pat time to digest his smile when Pran buries his face in the crook of Pat’s neck to continue sucking hickeys there.
“Hm,” Pran mumbles just as he sucks a new patch of skin under Pat’s jaw, relishing in the way his boyfriend grips the back of his head desperately. “I wonder if someone here can keep quiet so as to not wake our daughter up?”
“Pran,”
“It’s been a while, no?” and Pran bites his lips exactly in the way he knew that Pran would be unable to resist him. Pat groans.
“Oh you fucking tease,” Pat grumbles and yanks Pran’s head using his grip to slam their lips together.
They end up making out in the kitchen and undressing clumsily as Pran pulls them to the couch because that’s the only piece of furniture farthest away from where Sol sleeps. Pran had made sure to close the door as slowly as possible before join his very much naked and fucking beautiful boyfriend on the couch.
Pat’s legs were already spread to accommodate Pran to nestle between them. They needed some extra time to prep Pat up after going sexless for almost 3 months. It wasn’t like Pran was complaining; He loved using anything to prep his boyfriend up. And Pat’s muffled moans, the way he shoves his face into the couch pillow and the way he juts up into Pran’s fingers, Pran will never get used to the beauty of it.
“Ready?” Pran whispers over Pat’s back just as he presses his chest over the sweat soaked skin.
Pat nods, reaching behind him to take Pran’s arm and pull it around his neck while he entwines his fingers to Pran’s free hand. Pat raises his ass just to hear the gasp Pran releases when he rubs it over Pran’s erect cock.
All Pran did was slip the head of his cock pass the ring of muscles for Pat to curse quietly and grip the forearm around his neck tightly. Pran bottoms out in one swift movement and-
And that’s it.
Sol’s loud crying reaches Pat’s ears first. Then Pran’s. And both boys slump on the couch, groaning unanimously.
“I told you,” Pat snaps, uncharacteristically swatting Pran off him to slip his clothes back on and raising himself from the couch. Pran sits grumpily, a frown evident on his face as he gets dressed too.
The wailings grow louder just as Pat sprints to the bedroom and finds Sol wide awake, crawling around the bed, looking for her father. Pat knew she would cry for that very reason. So he takes his daughter and holds her right over his bare chest.
Sol nuzzles into her father’s chest and her wailing stops immediately. Pran enters the room with a frown at his daughter who successfully cockblocked them. Pran steps closer to his daughter with a soft sigh.
“You always quiet down when he hugs you,” Pran murmurs and Pat hums along, swaying a wide-eyed Sol in his arms.
Sol’s eyes grow heavy soon enough when Pat’s familiar strokes get to her, and she slumps against her father. Pran is the one that lifts his daughter up to set her down on the bed and covers her with the sheets in case she feels cold.
Pat sits on the side, exhaling quietly and Pran follows, linking their fingers together and watching Sol grab Nong Nao like it was born to be her pillow. Nong Nao’s big cotton body is barely occupied with the way Sol holds it.
“She can’t sleep without Nong Nao,” Pat whispers, turning his head to look at Pran. “Did you know that?”
Pran turns back to his lover and pouts excessively just to make Pat chuckle. “I know someone else who can’t sleep without that stinky doll,”
Pat nudges his boyfriend knowingly. “I don’t need Nong Nao now,” he inches closer and wraps Pran into a hug, kissing his cheek loudly. “Because I have my Nong Noo,”
“You asshole don’t make me-
---
Sol Siridechawat Jindapat
“Did you know?” Dissaya asks the first thing after she finishes gardening.
Her husband looks up from his morning paper with a frown. He shifts to the side, looking behind Dissaya with confusion. “Know.. what?” Praew pulls.
Dissaya is helpless, standing and shuffling back and forth with the newfound knowledge of being a grandmother. “The baby,” Dissaya croaks out, pressing a hand to her heart. “The baby’s name, did you know?”
Praew hums at that. “Oh,” he says. “Yes, Prim told me when I took out the trash last week. Sol,” Praew smiles to himself. “What a nice name,”
Dissaya shakes her head, eyes wide and teary. She points to the neighbour’s house, “Wrong,” she croaks. “Sol, Sol Siridechawat Jindapat,”
“What?” Praew’s eyes go wide.
“You heard me,” Dissaya cries. “That’s- Pran- he- he has a child,” she vigorously points to Ming’s house again. “With that boy,”
She had expected Praew to be shocked and nod along with Dissaya. She expected Praew to stand by her side with the same amount of anger and betrayal she had felt when she found out about her son’s foolish behaviour.
Dissaya freezes at the sight of her husband simply sitting by the table and reading his newspaper. “You’re not even mad?”
Praew doesn’t look up from where he’s reading his paper. “What are we supposed to do? She’s legally their child,”
“And you’re not even going to tell him how big of a mistake he has made?”
This time, Dissaya notices the way Praew’s jaw clench. She tenses up; Her husband rarely becomes mad. And if he did, something really big must have been bothering him. Praew looks up sharply at his wife, slamming the paper on the table.
“It happened once; I let you do as you wish, Dissaya. But I won’t tolerate your selfishness anymore. You are depriving our son of the only source of happiness that he has,” Praew speaks. “Don’t make me anymore angry than what I felt the day you forced him into leaving Pat. They’re grown men, let them make their own decisions,”
---
“Do I have the permission to hold my granddaughter?”
---
Pat and Ming sit in the living room of his apartment. Sol is on Pat’s lap, curiously gazing at Ming who looks around the small place, lingering on the multiple couple pictures of Pat and Pran hanging around. Pat waits patiently, following his father’s gaze and smiling at the fond memories each picture held.
One specific picture of Pat, Pran and Sol hangs right behind Pat and Ming stares at it a little longer than usual. They had taken that picture together when Pat and Pran had visited the beach with Sol for the first time. Junior had taken that picture for them, making sure Sol doesn’t move between her fathers and making her laugh so beautifully.
They sit in tense silence for a long time. Then, Sol kicks Pat to remind him yet again, that she was still half naked. “Oh,” Pat mumbles, kissing his daughter’s head in apology. “Sorry, baby,”
“I have to get Sol ready for bed,” Pat begins, standing up already. “Would you.. like to stay for dinner?”
Ming hesitates at first, squeezing his fingers together and looking anywhere but at his son. Then, he nods, slowly. “I think I have some time,” he stands up and follows Pat into their room. But Ming stands at the threshold, unsure of whether he has the right to enter his son’s room that he shares with his lover.
Pat couldn’t help but muffle a small laugh as he sets Sol on her back and grabs the abandoned red shirt. “You can come inside,” Pat smiles. “Pran’s not hiding in here; He’s in Singapore,”
“That’s not-
Ming pauses, shaking his head and he steps inside to stand beside Pat. Ming watches his son prepare his daughter for bed, and he finds his heart swelling with pride. “You’re better than me when it comes to babies,” he points out.
Pat nods with a satisfied hum after straightening the collar of Sol’s shirt. “Pran-
Pat pauses; It wouldn’t be the safest way to keep talking about Pran when the wound is still fresh, so he corrects his sentence. “We attended many classes for new parents,”
Ming nods in approval, hands behind his back as he waits for Pat to clean and put Sol to bed. Ming hesitantly walks around the room to admire the interior and designs that suited well. It was the only thing him and Pat have in common. Work.
“The colours you chose blends really well with the interior,” Ming notes again. “Good job,” he praises his son awkwardly.
Pat freezes from where he’s folding Sol’s towel and turns to his father. Ming pretends that everything is fine. So Pat does the same, going back to folding his towel. This time, he doesn’t back down from the tension between them.
“Thank you,” Pat begins, a bitter smile on his face. “Pran chose them all,”
Ming coughs into his palm and nods again. Pat sighs, holding Sol to him and bringing her to the bed. Ming follows.
“She doesn’t have her own cradle?”
Pat shakes his head. “She likes to sleep on Pran’s side,” he says again. When Ming remains quiet, Pat grows disappointed. “Is there something you’re here for?” he finds himself snapping.
Ming looks at his son with furrowed eyebrows and a frown, the audacity of him to feel offended. Pat doesn’t back down, putting Sol to bed and giving her Nong Nao as he waits for his father to answer.
“What makes you think I need something from you?” Ming retorts.
Pat shakes his head; “You keep changing the topic when I speak about Pran,” he lowers his voice when he catches Sol’s eyelids growing heavy. “Are you here to try and talk me out of this relationship again? If so, please get out,”
“Pat, I would never do that,” Ming begins. “I-
“You did, Pa,” Pat smiles, a sad, sad smile. He stands up and walks to where his father stands at the foot of the bed. “You did it once, you can do it again. But this time, I won’t listen to you,”
“That was before, I know how-
“No, Pa,” Pat cuts his father off again. “Before or even now, you don’t know how much we have suffered because of your behaviour. Did you know how happier I am now, even when Pran is so far away? I’m much happier than when we ran away that night, three years ago.
Pat laughs bitterly at that again; “Do you remember, Pa? That day when you pushed Pran down? Did you know how hard he tried to cover that bruise away from me? Did you know how angry I was? I was about to go back there and do something, anything to you,” Pat snaps.
Pat is walking around the kitchen, already preparing for dinner as he speaks because god knows what he would do to his father if his mind wasn’t occupied with dinner. His father follows him back, looking like a hurt puppy and Pat doesn’t give a fuck; He needed his father to know.
“I knew I would regret it; hurting you that night. But I couldn’t find it in me to care. I was angry,” Pat continues. “But you know who stopped me? Pran. Pran, who you pushed down until his back had bruises for weeks. That Pran, held me back, told me how you were just angry. And until now, the guilt I feel whenever he hides the pain in his back, will never leave me. Not until you realise your mistakes, anyway,”
“Did you think I forgot about all those nights where you would show up at my room unannounced and check if Pran was there? Do you even understand the amount of pain Pran felt when he had to hide and stay away from his own lover for the sake of my safety?”
He’s cutting up the onions and garlic when his father comes to stand beside him. Unable to focus on the knife in his hands, Pat throws it down and sighs before he looks up at his father. His throat begins to form a lump at those memories, but Pat swallows them down.
Pat points right at his father’s chest. “He was the reason I stayed as your perfect son for three years even after you broke my heart into piece. But you were right about one thing; I did become stubborn after being with Pran for so long,” he laughs at that. “He tried so hard in convincing me to reconcile with you, but I was stubborn as ever. I won’t go back to you, Pa,”
“I’ll never go back to you until you apologize to Pran for the pain you put us through,” Pat continues to cut the vegetables up. “So tell me, what are you here for?”
Ming stands, frozen as ever, a little teary eyed.
Good, Pat thinks. That’s not even a quarter of the amount of tears he has given me.
Still, Pat sighs, running a hand through his hair because he knows how tight-lipped his father can be. He especially knew how much his father hated being proven wrong. “I’m making us stir fried pork. If you’re going to stay quiet like this, at least eat with me,”
---
Pran comes back from Singapore for a two week break after finishing a big project. Pat is more than happy. He took a whole day off to fetch Pran’s from the airport and bringing their little family out on a date. Everything was perfect that day.
The second he sees Pran emerging from the arrival gates, Pat brisk walks to his lover and pulls him into a tight hug with Sol squished between them. He is able to hear Pran’s delighted and high-pitched laugh as Pat hugs him tightly. And as the break away, Pat’s hands are on Pran’s head. He wants to pull Pran in for a long-awaited kiss, but then his boyfriend stops him with two firm hands on his chest.
Pat, lips puckered and all, frowns at his lover. And so does Sol. But Pran only laughs delightfully again and he can’t stay mad at Pran for long. “Did you know your father called me yesterday?”
“We didn’t see each other in four months, and this is the first thing you say to me?” Pat asks, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed in offense. “Is my father more- wait- my father?”
Pran bites his lips to hide the wide smile on his face but he fails miserably. “You heard me,”
“My father?”
“Yes, baby,”
“Are you sure it wasn’t your dad?”
Pran laughs at that, occupying himself with taking Sol from the baby carrier and giving her sniff kisses. “My dad doesn’t call me Parakul, Pat,”
“Oh my god WHY?” Pat takes Pran’s luggage and they begin to walk despite Pat being surprised as hell. “Did he say anything mean to you? Pran, I’m telling you, I can’t keep staying quiet because you said so. I won’t hesitate to punch him if he-
“He called us for dinner, Pat,” Pran wraps an arm around Pat’s small waist while the other sturdily holds Sol. “He called us for dinner tonight,”
Pat wants to continue walking, but his feet is suspended. He can’t walk. He thinks he won’t be able to stand any longer anymore. “A-are you sure?”
“Paaaat, yes, yes I’m sure,”
---
Dinner with Pat’s family is terrifying for the both of them. Pran, because he has never once set foot in the neighbour’s home and Pat, coming back here after so many months of giving his father the cold shoulder.
However, with Prim being as sweet as ever to the two boys and their daughter, some of the thick tension seems to ease off their shoulders. Prim easily handles the situation by being the livewire just like how Pat would do when they are forced in awkward situations.
Later, when dinner is finished, Prim forces Pat and Pran to follow his father instead of letting them linger around the kitchen with them. Sol is taken away from them too, which leaves Pran completely exposed to Pat’s father’s tactics (if he even has one).
They sit across from each other, Pat making sure his father can see their linked fingers clear enough. Pat hopes that it becomes a gentle warning for his father to always think before he speaks.
Ming pours them both a finger of whiskey and pours half a glass for himself. Pran takes both the glasses and hands one to Pat before holding his tightly until his knuckles turn white. Ming drinks in silence while Pran and Pat only nurse their glasses.
“So,” Ming begins. “How long more do you have until you finish your job in Singapore?” he speaks. “Because I’d rather not see my son having to raise your daughter all by himself,”
“Pa,” Pat snaps. He is about to rip his father a new one when Pran stops him with a squeeze against his hand. When Pat sneaks a glance at his lover, Pran’s smile seemed less tense, more excited as if he was happy about being asked a question like that.
“Soon enough, Uncle,” Pran answers with a wide and dimpled smile. “I’ll finish in six months,” Pran pauses, looking warily at Pat first.
It was less than a second of eye contact and Pat already knew what his boyfriend was going to say. Unable to control his expressions, Pat’s eyes grow wide and he (not so subtly) shakes his head at Pran. “No,” Pat hisses.
“We’re um,” he looks at Pat as he continues again, stubborn enough to disobey his boyfriend’s warning. “I actually flew down because we bought a house,”
Even Ming doesn’t control the surprise on his face. “You already bought a house? In this economy?”
Pran nods quickly and pride swells in Pat’s heart despite objecting Pran’s plan to inform their new purchase to his father. “Yes, Uncle. With the salary I earn in Singapore, it’s more than enough to get a decent home and open up a savings account for Sol,”
“Why are you telling him everything?” Pat hisses in Pran’s ears.
“How will I get your father’s blessings if I don’t impress him,” Pran whispers back.
“We don’t need his blessings,”
“Yes, we do,”
“No, we don’t. I do-
Pran ignores Pat and turns back to his stunned father with yet another competitive smile. “I work as an architect for projects they plan on placing in Thailand, Uncle. After this contract, I’ll be promoted into executive manager for the branch here,”
Ming’s surprised expression remains the same, so he hides it behind his glass of alcohol. “Your promotion is already guaranteed? After just a year of working?”
Pran’s ears go red before he speaks and Pat could not help but smile at how adorable his boyfriend was. “Of course,” Pat speaks instead. “He came in first in the whole Faculty of Architecture,”
Pran swats Pat away and clears his throat. “I told you this just because I don’t want you worrying about Pat’s future, Uncle,” Pran tells his father.
Pat’s breath stutters and his heart picks up pace. Even as he looks at Pran, his lover looks ahead, eyes determined to make a name for himself to his father. He remains quiet, not wanting to disrupt Pran.
“I worked long and hard hours because I would like my family to live a comfortable life. The sacrifices I made will become fruitful in the future, Uncle. So money is not an issue. I will take care of your son and my daughter and make sure they’re happier than ever,”
“Pran,” Pat croaks, but Pran doesn’t budge. He remains firm and stoic in Pat’s hands. When Pat knows that his lover will not look at him until his plans are successful, he turns to his father.
Ming stares at his son, freezing at the way Pat’s eyes become wide and glassy, as if begging him to not make their life anymore miserable. He looks at Pran whose face is stoic, but he doesn’t miss the way he grips onto Pat’s hand to prevent his own from shaking.
So Ming doesn’t prolong his words anymore. He leans forward to pour Pran another finger of whiskey despite his glass being untouched. “You’re a good man, Pran,” he mumbles.
Pran catches it immediately, holding the glass close to him and smiling at Pat’s father. “T-thank you, Uncle,” his voice cracks.
Ming stands up and offers his hand to Pran. Pran stands up instantly and takes Pat’s father’s hand, giving him a firm shake despite his heart having multiple shakes. “Welcome to the family, Pran,”
---
“What the fuck was that?” Pat whispers to his boyfriend when they finally reached home after having dinner with the Jindapats.
Sol is fast asleep, her social battery draining very quickly after being adorable to her new family members. Pat and Pran don’t have to worry about waking her up, they knew how tired Sol is.
After getting Sol ready for bed, both her fathers showered together (to save water) and got ready for bed. Sol had begun to get comfortable with having her own cradle already, which became quite a relief to Pat, mostly Pran who missed cuddling with Pat every night. As much as he wished he could hug his boyfriend, squeeze him tightly, their daughter was always in the middle. And Pran can’t afford to squish his baby.
Right now, Pat lies on Pran’s chest, breathing along with Pran’s heart rate as he pushes his fingers through Pat’s hair. His eyelids are growing heavy, but Pat needed to stay awake. He didn’t want this dream to end. Which is why he raises himself from Pran’s chest, his fingers suspended through Pat’s thick lock of hair. Pran smiles softly, chuckling at the strands of hair that stuck up in different angles.
“What the fuck just happened?” Pat repeats his question.
Pran shrugs, eyes closing and opening slowly; “I.. don’t know,” he mumbles.
“This has to be a dream right?” Pat whispers back. “Pa- he- that’s not possible. It’s not possible for him to change so much,”
“Pat,” Pran pulls, pinching Pat’s chubby cheeks lightly. “Remember how scared we were when Sol came to us?” he whispers. “Maybe they figured that we’ve suffered enough. And they wanted to give us what we wanted the most. And that’s the approval of our parents,”
“Who’s they?”
Pran smiles softly at that. Then his eyes squint adorably, lips pursed in suspicion; “You’ll laugh at me if I tell you,”
Pat tsks, shaking Pran at the same time, clinging onto him and burrowing his face into Pran’s neck. “Just tell me,” Pat whines, kissing the warm skin there. Pran huffs out soft chuckles, trying to hold Pat back. “Tell meeee,”
But then, their soft wrestling is halted when Pran’s phone vibrates. The two of them never keep their ringer on, knowing well that if Sol hears a hint of ringing in the apartment, she’ll never go back to sleep again.
It was nearing midnight, which is odd because no one other than Pat calls Pran so late at night. The boys turn to the bedstand where their phones lay side by side. Pran’s phone is illuminated by the light of an incoming call.
Pat swiftly turns to Pran with wide eyes; “Why is your mother calling so late at night?” Pat hisses.
Pran’s eyes are just as wide, shaking his head frantically as he takes the vibrating phone and grips it in his hand between them; “I don’t-
“Does she know you’re here?”
Pran shakes his head again. “I told her I’d be only coming next week,” he whispers as if afraid his mother would be able to hear them.
The phone is still ringing adamantly. Pat pushes Pran to answer it so that his mother would not become suspicious of her son’s activities. Before Pran answers, Pat makes sure he puts it on speaker.
“Hello Mae?” Pran asks shakily. He watches Pat, shoulders tense with the phone between them. “Why are you calling so late? Is everything okay?”
“Enough with the lying, Pran; Come home for lunch tomorrow,” she snaps, fury in her voice. “And bring your daughter with you,”
The call ends just like that. Pat and Pran stay frozen, lips parted in both dread and shock. Pat pushes himself away from Pran into a sitting position and he presses his hands to his face. “W-what just-
“Oh my God,” Pran whispers.
Silence ensues between them; they’re both at a loss of words, that is until Pran’s phone rings again, and his father calls instead. The boys shoot up instantly; Pran swipes answer on the call.
“Pa,” Pran begins, his tone wary and afraid.
“Don’t panic, but your Mae saw you coming for dinner at Ming’s house,” his father informs them and Pat curses, slapping his hand over his face. “The best option right now; Just come home tomorrow. For lunch, I’ve talked to your Mae. Hopefully all will turn out well,”
“Pa,” Pran’s tone had changed by then; “I’m not coming if she’s going to try and change my mind about- about Pat and my daughter. I regret nothing,”
Praew sighs on the other side of the call. Pran’s eyes go unfocused with determination and the small pinch of fear.
“You shouldn’t; I promise you, Pran,” Praew continues. “I’ll be there for you. It won’t be like the last time,”
And that was more than enough for Pat and Pran.
---
The three of them stand together before Pran’s childhood home. Sol seems to unaware of whatever that her fathers are feeling. Pat and Pran stand side by side, staring at the gates of Hell, hands linked together tightly until it restricts their blood flow.
“Hey,” Pat tugs on Pran’s hand. Pran turns to his side, watching Pat with his pale skin. Pat smiles and reaches forward to place a butterfly kiss to Pran’s cheek. “I love you,” he whispers along the cool skin of Pran’s cheek.
Despite being scared shitless, Pran finds himself chuckling lightly at Pat. He returns the favour by kissing Pat just over his cheekbone. “I love you too,” he whispers.
“No matter what happens?”
“No matter what happens.”
Pran finally presses the doorbell and the automatic gates open immediately; Almost as if his mother had been spying at them from outside. She probably was. Pran inhales, and exhales and tightens his grip on Pat and Sol.
His father comes out first, a warm smile on his lips. He greets Pat and Pran with that exact same smile and wider when he leans down to meet Sol. “Hello,” Praew smiles, showing his index finger to Sol who catches it immediately with her wide curious eyes.
Pat looks down to where Sol is attached against his chest with the baby carrier and he huffs out a small laugh. Praew looks up at Pat and his smile falters. “Pat,” Praew straightens his back enough to reach forward and press a hand onto his shoulder.
Pat’s eyes begin to water, Pran watches; His boyfriend was always the more emotional one despite being built like Hulk. Pran tsks, tugging on Pat’s hand. “Babe,” he whispers.
“We never had the chance to properly speak,” Praew tells Pat and it was enough for a strand of tear to roll down his eye.
Pat chokes out a soft laugh and looks up to prevent the tears from falling as he nods. “Y-yes, Uncle,” he chokes out. Sol shakes in her carrier when she senses her father’s change of tone.
Pran wants to open his mouth and speak too, but then the soft pitter-patter of his mother’s familiar house slippers. Their linked hands tighten together at the sight of Dissaya having not an ounce of mirth in her face.
She stands beside her husband, arms crossed, her expression stoic. Praew breaks the tense silence first, a hand still on Pat’s shoulder. “Enough standing, come inside, both of you,” Praew invites them in.
Pat makes a move to walk, gripping Sol tightly, but Pran holds him back, eyes never leaving his mother; “No,” was all Pran says.
Pat turns back to his lover, eyes on their hands and then back at Pran. “Pran,” Pat hisses. “Pran, let go,”
Pran stubbornly shakes his head. He looks at his mother. “You called us here, didn’t you? You invite us in, then,” was all he says.
Both Pat and Praew tense up; Pran and Dissaya couldn’t care less about their panicking loved ones. They stand on each end of the gates, Pat and Praew suspended in the middle between their spouses.
“Either that,” Pran speaks again. “Or you tell us why you called us here. Right now,”
Dissaya’s eyes squint at her son; She wonders when her little boy had grown so big enough to protect his loved ones. And she wondered what had happened along the way for Pran to protect someone against her.
She exhales harshly, her ego getting the best of her despite keeping everything Praew had said in mind the other day. “Do I look that evil to split the two of you again?” her eyes linger a little longer on Pat, unable to resist the anger blooming in her.
She could not help her feelings when the boy Pran loves looked exactly like Ming. It irked her to the point of insanity. But the boy Pran’s love did not have the same wicked look Ming fosters all the time. No, he looked scared, worried, clinging onto her son despite being more muscular and stronger than him.
Dissaya wants to laugh.
“You did it once,” Pran says with conviction. “Nothing is stopping you from doing it again,”
Dissaya finds it hard to control the simmering anger inside her; “I don’t know where you learned to speak like this to your mother, Pran,”
“Dissaya,” Praew hisses. He turns back to Pran and gives his son a small smile. “We made you lunch, come inside and we can talk, son,”
Pat nods encouragingly. “Pran, theerak, it’s not good to keep your parents standing here; Let’s talk in-
“I don’t regret any of my choices,” Pran ignores his father and lover again. His jaw is clenched with anger too. Sometimes Pran and his mother are too alike; which is why they clash opinions all the time. “Don’t expect an apology from me,”
“Pran, why are you speaking like this?” Pat tugs desperately at his lover’s hand, but again, his lover is stubborn as ever. It was one of the things Pat loved and hated about Pran.
“I never asked you to apologise,” Dissaya’s tone softens at that. Silence ensues between them, until his mother breaks it with a sigh. “There’s no point crying over spilt milk,”
“This is not spilt milk. This is not a mistake,” Pran retorts, almost shaking with anger in his tone.
“I called you both here,” Pran’s mother speaks. “Because I can’t stay mad for long. My son’s happiness is more important for me.
“And I’m sorry that it took me a while to realise that”
And for the first time when Dissaya looks at Pat, she smiles so sweetly at him that Pat finds his vision blurring again.
“And,” Dissaya speaks again. “It’s hard to stay mad with a baby this adorable looking at me,” she leans down to coo at Sol who giggles loudly.
Her chubby legs kick against Pat’s stomach as Dissaya plays with her. “Oh,” Pat mumbles. He unclasps the belt of Sol’s carrier and takes his daughter in his arms.
Hesitantly, Pat steps forward to Dissaya with Sol in his arms. He leans down to show their daughter to Pran’s mother; “This is Sol Siridechawat Jindapat,”
Dissaya smiles wider; “And so I’ve heard,” she strokes the soft baby hairs on Sol’s head. “Your name could be heard throughout the neighbourhood,”
Pat pushes his arm out to Dissaya and in a soft whisper, he says; “You can hold her, if you want, Auntie,”
Dissaya looks up at Pat and then at Pran’s stoic face; “Really?” she asks them both. Pran remains firm, unsure of whether his mother was being genuine of not. But Pat nods with a big smile and small eyes.
“Of course,” Pat smiles. “Go ahead,”
---
It was almost nearing ten at night when Pran decides that they should all head home; Meeting both their parents for two days back to back had been draining his brain slowly. Even now, he sits with his father, following his instructions of how to tune a different kind of guitar correctly, while his mother stays in the kitchen with Pat for the second hour.
Pran wonders how on Earth a boy who his mother had been hating for almost his whole life, would end up being Dissaya’s immediate favourite. But then again, Pran finds himself smiling at how easily Pat can gain anyone’s love so quickly.
Sol is sleeping fitfully in the curve of Pat’s bicep as he sways her while talking in hushed tones with Dissaya. Pran finds his head trailing to where his lover stands at the kitchen. Praew chuckles, tapping his son with the guitar tuner.
Pran snaps out of his daze, biting his lip shyly at his father who had caught him; “I-is it done?” Pran stammers at his father.
“You can’t go two hours without him?” Praew grins knowingly.
Pran pushes his father’s knowing look off him and focuses on his guitar again. He strums, once, twice, and plays a familiar tune that both Pat and Sol loved so much. Maybe, just maybe, it was Pran’s subtle plan to make his family come back to the living room because he missed them.
As if on cue, Pran hears Sol curious babble at the tune. Pat looks at Sol in his arms, wide awake and kicking against her father to bring them to the living room. Pat finds himself smiling, looking at the threshold where only the hilt of Pran’s guitar can be seen, and his lean fingers moving to tune the strings occasionally.
“Sol loves it when Pran plays the guitar,” Pat tells Dissaya.
As expected, Pran is only on the second chorus of the tune he plays when Sol and Pat enter the living room, matching smiles and gleaming eyes. Pran could not help but smile back at them, not so subtly motioning for Pat to sit next to him. Pat obeys without resistance.
When Dissaya comes to sit next to Praew, they watch their son play the guitar for his family. Pran is oblivious to his parents’ gazes, having eyes only for Sol and Pat. Praew leans closer to Dissaya and whispers; “We almost took this away from Pran,” he whispers.
“Do you understand now? How not everyone is blessed with the power of love? And how our son is?” he continues. “Let’s not take them away, Dissaya. After all, love is stronger than hate,”
---
“Go put Sol to bed, I’ll get the mail,” Pran whispers to Pat when they park the car. Pat had been fast asleep with Sol when Pran had drove them home that night. Even now, Pran wakes him up slowly and Pat’s eyelids are heavy.
He agrees sleepily, running a hand through his hair and walking up with Sol. Pran smiles, shaking his head fondly as he moves to get the mail. It was nothing unusual; water bill, electric bill, some other insurance policies and more.
Then, Pran’s eyes scan over the last letter.
He runs up the steps of his apartment because he couldn’t wait for the elevator. Pran knew that the door would be left open for him since the keys were with Pat. So he runs to their apartment, and stops himself because Sol hates loud noises.
Pran opens the door quietly, despite shaking with excitement. As usual, he finds the door to their bedroom wide open and Sol sleeps in her cradle with the white noise wafting around their apartment. The lights are dimmed down and Pat stands at the kitchen counter, his hair in a mess as he sips a glass of water in a daze.
Pran takes three long strides to where Pat stands and envelopes his body in a warm hug. Pat doesn’t usually go to bed with a shirt simply because Sol loved skin to skin contact with her father and after months of having his daughter close to him, Pat becomes used to it. Even now, all Pat wears is his worn out pyjama pants and Pran covering his warm body.
Pat chuckles slowly and it vibrates against Pran’s chest. He kisses his lover’s nape, pushing the mail on the counter. Pat hums, “What is this?” his voice is groggy and deep with sleep. Pran knew that sleepy Pat forgets almost everything in the next morning.
Still, he needed Pat to know.
“That’s the deed to our new home,” Pran whispers. “I think we forgot to meet the owner with everything that’s been happening. So he mailed it to us himself,”
Pat takes the papers in his hands, leaning against Pran with a soft sigh; “You mean we have a house now?” he whispers and Pran nods along the column of Pat’s neck to hide his tears.
Pat sets the papers down and swiftly turns to hug Pran tightly. The boys cry silently; “We got a home,” Pat whispers and Pran nods.
“A home; you, me and Sol,” Pran replies. “Our home,”
“W-we can decorate it with pictures and give Sol her own room,” Pat hugs Pran tighter, forehead on his shoulder. “Y-you can paint her a mural, and we can have sleepovers. Right, Pran?”
Pran could not help but choke out a laugh at that. “Yes, baby,” Pran whispers. “Yes, we can do whatever we want,”
“Oh,” Pat chokes out. He pushes himself away from Pran, eyes wide and filled with tears; Still, he frowns at Pran, so adorably. “You’re not thinking of having our own home before proposing right?” he warns Pran.
The surprise of it all, makes Pran laugh harder, until Pat smacks him to shut up because Sol would wake up. Pat repeats again; “I don’t care, we’re only moving in after you propose. I’m not letting you off that easily,”
Pran nods, heart beating painfully and his tears dropping freely. “Yes, of course, Pat. Of course, I’ll get you a ring,”
Pat eyes his lover one last time, nodding in approval and resumes his position in Pran’s arms. He yawns sleepily and lets Pran lead him to their bedroom. And the last thing Pran hears his lover say is;
“Make sure it’s more expensive than Angelina Jolie’s one,”