Work Text:
Pran is a perfectionist. He is neat. He is clean. He hates dirty things. He hates his lover being dirty too. That’s just how Pran is, and Pat knows.
He loved it.
He must be a freak, to love when Pran nags at him all the time. It makes him feel loved, like Pran hated the idea of Pat being dirty or uncomfortable near him. He needed Pat to be comfortable as much as he can.
It was normal.
But then Pran goes to Singapore, and Pat spends two years coming back to a quiet home, absent of Pran’s nagging. He missed it, he missed it so much to the point of having a mental breakdown.
But Pran is here now, in his arms, sleeping peacefully after the last flight from Singapore that he will ever take. Because Pran is home, Pran is here and he is with Pat. He is never going to leave Pat again.
However, things have changed. Pat is not sure whether it’s a good change or a bad change.
It started the day right after Pran officially comes back home. He had been granted a week off from his company before being able to start working for the branch here in Thailand. Pat, unfortunately, did not have a week off because his father is a pain in the ass.
So his morning starts with Pat having to reluctantly pull himself away from the warmth that was Pran’s arms and leave him to get ready for work. Pran sleeps like the dead, unaware of Pat leaving. Pat understands how tiring it must be, finishing his last day at work and taking the flight on the same day simply because he wanted to see Pat as soon as possible.
Before leaving, Pat sits by the edge of their bed, gives Pran a soft kiss on his head and sighs sadly. He will see Pran at the end of the day soon enough, Pat says to himself as reassurance. He needed Pran to have a reason to call him too, first thing in the morning. So Pat throws his wet towel on the foot of the bed just to infuriated his lover and he goes to work.
His morning goes by with Pat waiting for Pran’s call, or maybe even an annoyed text about leaving his wet towel on the bed. And Pran does call, just before Pat goes for his lunch break.
“Hello my gorgeous boyfriend,” Pat coos into the phone with plans to annoy Pran further. “Did you have a good sleep?”
And then came the surprise; Pran merely hums sweetly on the other side, agreeing with Pat, “I did, but you left so early. Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Pat is taken aback for a second. “Oh, uh. Uh, I didn’t want to wake you up, you looked so tired,”
“Hm,” Pran pulls as he shuffles around in the other side. “Come back soon, then. I’ll make us dinner,”
“Okay,” Pat is blinded by his love for Pran to even realise that Pran did not even talk about his wet towel left on the bed. Then why was Pran calling him?
“Are you going for lunch?”
Pat hums a yes. Pran tells him to eat well and tells him that he loves Pat. Pat doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate his obvious love for Pran.
---
It happens again when Pat returns home earlier than usual to see Pran setting the piping hot chicken curry on the table. He gives Pat a brilliant smile the second he steps inside. Pat forgets to arrange his shoes and work bag when he enters, simply throwing them on one side to reach Pran and give him kisses right on his protruding dimples.
They hug each other, Pat simply basking in Pran’s warmth and the strong smell of curry in their home. “Hi,” Pat whispers when they break the hug, a soft and tired smile on his lips.
“Hi,” Pran retorts, then looks behind Pat at the mess of shoes and bag by the entrance. Pat turns to follow his gaze a huffs a small apology.
“Sorry, I got to excited to give my boyfriend a hug,” Pat smiles, turning around to clean the mess, but Pran stops him with a hand on his bicep.
He shakes his head, dismissing Pat’s apology. “Go freshen up and eat first, you must be hungry,” Pran informs his boyfriend.
Pran was right, the sweat and heat of Bangkok was drying away on his skin. Pat was smelly and very much dirty from all the soot he collected at he construction site. Still, just to be the annoying and clingy boyfriend he is, Pat pulls Pran into a hug again with a whine, “But I’m so hungry, I’m too lazy to wash up. Can’t we eat first?” he pouts excessively at Pran, batting his eyelashes along the way.
On normal days, Pran would roll his eyes, bite his lips hard to hide the smile, but his dimples would always give himself away. And then he would cross his arms and cockily jerk his chin in the direction of their bedroom, forcing Pat to go freshen up or there won’t be any room for cuddles later. Pat would oblige with a sulk.
Now, though, all Pran does is cling onto the back of Pat’s shirt, ignoring the dampness of the sweat on his back and hum. “Okay,” Pran said, even kissing the boy on his cheek, where it was probably covered in dust and soot. “I’ll get the food ready. Sit down,”
They eat together, filling the silent gaps with stories about their days. Pran would take a mouthful of food, chew systematically and swallow before speaking. Pat would speak with his mouth full, just because he knows how much it would irritate Pat.
“I have to go visit Mae soon,” Pran had told him as they ate. He had stopped eating a while ago, resting his chin on his propped-up hand to watch Pat gobble the food down with a soft smile on his face. Pat doesn’t notice, he was too hungry to notice the way his lover watches him eat. “I might stay there for a few days,”
Pat nods, speaking with a mouth full of rice and curry, “I’ll come stay at home after work then,” he garbles. Some specks of rice fall out of his mouth, landing on Pran’s precious dining table and Pat just knows how angry Pran would get.
Instead, the boy freezes, watching the specks of rice land on the table. Pat hides a smile and swallows his food down to wait for Pran’s reaction. But all the boy does is take the fallen rice with his hands and place them on a tissue, neatly folding the tissue in half before he wipes the table down. He continues eating after that, nodding at Pat’s plan. Pat doesn’t hide the surprise in his face.
When Pran notices the silence between them, he looks up at Pat and smiles endearingly. “You have a stain,” Pran swipes his thumb against the corner of Pat’s lips and licks the curry off his fingers. Pat stares again, because his Pran would nag at him about eating like a baby and then wipe the stain off his face.
Maybe Pran was tired, Pat thinks. Maybe he was too tried to nag at Pat. He would understand.
---
Pran becomes weirder as days pass. His anger that was always a ticking time bomb to Pat, is now just a simmering pot of water on low heat. Pran rarely got angry at Pat and it has been weeks of Pat wondering what on Earth happened to his boyfriend.
He comes back extra late from work one hot summer day. Pat hated the heat so much, and he knows that Pran hated it too. Although, as much as Pat hated the heat, he hated not being able to hold Pran in his arms during the night.
When he comes back home around eleven at night, Pran is already in bed, reading a book while he waited for Pat. The covers are under him because Pran felt very hot today. The Bangkok heat was not a joke to them. Pat, who hated showering, was fully convinced that he needed a cold shower to get rid of the scorching sun on his back.
“You’re back,” Pran had smiled widely at him when Pat returned. He places his bag by the foot of the door and makes a beeline straight to where Pran sits against the headboard to give Pran a kiss. Pran would usually push Pat away, saying he stinks with sweat and dirt, forcing him to go shower before getting in bed.
Now, Pran simply wraps a hand around Pat’s collar and pulls him closer, giving better than what he gets. He does, however, gently push Pat to go shower, after feeling the heat on his body. Pat relaxes at that and enters the shower.
When he comes back from the cold shower, Pran complains about how hot it was today and how he showered three times just to get the heat off his body. Pat hums, not bothering to dry his hair and just wanting to get into the bed and cuddle with Pran.
A little part of him knows very well that they won’t be able to cuddle today. Pran would most definitely go;
“Paaatt stop hugging me, it’s so hot and your body is always so warm,”
He knows. But that doesn’t stop him from trying. So he gets on his side of the bed, rudely plucks the novel Pran reads away from his hands and pulls his lover into the bracket of his arms. Pran laughs to himself but goes willingly, melting against Pat’s warm body. His arms go under Pat, wrapping them on his back and snuggling on his neck.
“Hmph,” Pat laughs against his head. “You’re not complaining about the heat?”
Pran shakes his head, eyes closed and already preparing for a deep slumber. “I’ll just crank up the air conditioner,”
And Pat, too tired to question Pran sudden change in not saving electricity, just nods and hugs Pran to sleep.
---
It happens another time, quite obviously, when Pat returns home from the gym. Pran was sitting in the floor of their living room, reorganizing all of his work documents since work would be starting in three days time.
He was soaked with sweat and his legs ached from the workouts his trainer gave him. All Pat wanted to do was lie on the couch and sleep with Pran in his arms. Besides, it would a good excuse to absolutely irritate Pran and get him to pull Pat out of the couch and into the shower.
So he comes back home, dumping the smelly gym bag on the floor and dramatically crawls to where Pran sits, leaning his back on the couch. Pat purposefully slumps his sweat-soaked body on the couch behind Pran and this boy. Doesn’t. Bat. An eyelash.
He turns around, smiling at Pat and pushing his hand through Pat’s wet, sweaty hair. “Are you tired?” he asks Pat.
Unable to hide the surprise, Pat holds the hand that strokes his head and brings it to his lips. His eyes are still wide as he tries to decipher whatever that was going inside Pran’s head. He wonders if he did anything wrong, if he had hurt Pran to the point of Pran not even caring if he dirtied the couch.
“Pat, baby,” Pran startles Pat back to reality, cupping his flushed cheek. “You must be tired. Why don’t you rest here? I’ll go get us some dinner,”
Speaking of dinner, Pat doesn’t remember the last time Pran had cheated him about the food not being spicy just to laugh at Pat’s suffering. Every dish his lover now makes or buys, is perfect for his tastebuds and never once did Pran bully him into eating spicy food.
Pat’s eyebrows furrow further. He holds Pran’s hand tightly. “Pran,” he begins.
Pran cocks his head to the side, smile going unsure. “Yes, baby,” he replies.
“Are you okay? I- did I do something wrong?”
It’s Pran’s turn to frown; “Why are you asking that? You did nothing wrong, baby,”
“I- I don’t know, after you came back from Singapore, you’ve been so.. calm. I forgot what your nagging sounds like,” he tries to joke, but it comes out choked off. Pran frows further.
“Why would I nag at you? You didn’t do anything to make me mad,” Pran retorts, emphasising his sincerity by kissing Pat on his sweaty forehead.
Pran seems so.. different. Pat couldn’t put a finger on it. He’s everything Pat loves, yet something was missing. The nagging, the simplicity, the domesticity of it. Pat is missing it.
Pran changes the topic swiftly after that, pulling Pat up and pushing him to go shower so they could go out for a walk together. Pat listens. Maybe he was just being overdramatic. This was his Pran, the same boy that loved holding his hands and cleaning up after him even if he doesn’t nag much.
---
Pat understands what is happening to his lover soon enough.
It takes him a while. But he finally does. And it absolutely tears him apart.
He comes back home with a news for Pran. His lover had arrived home earlier than him and was preparing dinner for them, still clad in his work attired. Pran looked good even when tired. His shirtsleeves pulled up, collar unbuttoned and tie nowhere to be found. Pat takes the opportunity to hug his lover.
The news was simply Pat having to go to the Philippines for some business dealings for work. He had been planning to surprise Pran with a plane ticket so that they could go together. But Pat wasn’t going to easily let his lover go without a fight.
So he puts on his biggest pout and saddest eyes before turning Pran around. Pran chuckles, leaning against the kitchen counter to take the sight of his boyfriend in. “Why the long face,”
Pat huffs dramatically. “I have to go to the Philippines for two weeks,” Pat whines. “It’s for work, I don’t want to go,”
His Pran would nag at him for being so clingy, help him pack, give him plenty of kisses and promises that they will spend time together after Pat comes back. His Pran would do that. But now, Pran tenses up in Pat’s arms, smile faltering as he asks Pat for the confirmation.
Pat nods, eyebrows furrowing, unable to keep his dramatic façade on any longer. The hand on his cheek begins to pull away but Pat swiftly holds it in place. Pran’s hand begins to shake, he notices. “Pran?” Pat whispers.
“Do you have to go?” Pran speaks, and his voice is thicker than usual, a lump in his throat.
“I- yes,” Pat answers. “It’s a big deal, and I need to see the dealer for myself,”
Pran nods, more to himself than to Pat. As if reassuring himself. “O-okay,” he nods vigorously again and Pat grows scared.
“Pran, baby, are you okay?” Pat asks, a hand on Pran’s neck, forcing him to look at Pat. But when he does, Pran’s face is flushed, tears pooling in his eyes.
“Don’t go please,” Pran whispers. “Please don’t leave me alone again,”
And everything clicks into place. This was his Pran, of course this was his Pran. The very Pran that he has loved since the start of time. The Pran that always masks his true feelings with sarcastic quips and naggings. The distance has broken his Pran. Breaking the wall he had built up until he is vulnerable for everyone to see. No more sarcasm, no more nagging to mask the love and desperation he feels for Pat.
“Oh,” Pat croaks out, pulling the broken boy in his arms. He holds a shaking Pran tightly, kissing his head multiple times. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Pran. I-I was just joking, baby. I bought you a ticket too. We can go together. A two-week vacation,”
If anything Pran cries harder, sobbing on Pat’s chest and giving him weak punches. “You idiot,” Pran sobs. “Don’t ever do that again, I fucking hate you,”
Pat pulls his lover behind to watch his wide eyes, stained with tears. He kisses the eyelashes that held more tears and tastes the salt in them. “You’ve been so sad, I didn’t know,” Pat whispers. “I’m here, aren’t I? I won’t leave you. We’re not leaving each other again,”
“No more long distance?” Pran asks, eyes wide with hope and this is His Pran. His Pran that is a child at heart, broken down and put back together piece by piece, so many times. That this child at heart rarely comes out. But when he does, it’s only for Pat to see.
So he smiles and nod, holding his Pran close. “No more, baby. You’re stuck with me; forever and ever,” he promises.
And he keeps it like that. Forever and ever.