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"Pran sucks" seven years old Pat declared to a six years old Pa one day.
"Ma, Pat used a bad word!" she yelled running away, not wanting to listen to reasons why Pran *****.
However, Pat could write an essay on why. Pran was mean. He always gave Pat that unphased look or a scoff. Pat didn't want Pran smiling at him of course, but even though they were rivals and Pat hated Pran's guts, he never looked at him like he wasn't worthy to be looked at!
Pran was too thoughtful about everything for a seven-year-old. His pencils were always in a perfect color order, his clothes always ironed, hair styled the exact same way. He never had food stuck to his chin after a lunch break. Pat wanted to mess him up. Fuss that hair, crumble that shirt, smear ketchup on his face, just to piss him off.
Pran never even laughed! Not that Pat heard off. What kind of person doesn't laugh? A bad one, Pat can tell you that for free.
And Pat hated how Pran bragged about things. 'I got a new sketchbook' this 'I'm going to a summer camp' that. Not that Pat wanted or needed those things, but the tone of Pran's voice when he was saying those things, made Pat's blood boil with anger.
So when Pran whispered to his friend Mew (Pat was eavesdropping but only because Pran looked too conspicuous saying that!) "Jenny asked me for a cheek kiss! " Pat decided that he had enough of it.
He didn't hear the rest of the story. Had the all-mighty Pran granted Jenny that kiss? Had he not? Pat didn't care. He was already waiting for Pran outside of their school, under a big oak tree.
He stopped Pran with a firm hand on his shoulder, pulling him behind the tree, away from any prying eye.
"What?" Pran glared shaking off Pat's arm.
"I don't believe that someone would want to kiss you!" he spat right away. What was the point of toying around? Pran didn't like his time wasted anyway and he could walk away any moment now, Pat had to get to the point as soon as possible.
"Huh?" Pran asked, face showing surprise and nothing else. Pran's face looked better without a scoff, Pat had to admit then.
"I don't want you lying about Jenny wanting to kiss you!" he pushed Pran's shoulder "People might laugh at her, did you think about that?"
"What are you talking about?" Pran pushed back, glare was back on his face "She did ask me that! Why would I lie?"
Pat didn't know why, but he didn't want to lose his face. "Because you want to seem cool!" he said, smirking at Pran knowing well Pran hated that smirk.
"I am cool! You" Pran pointed a finger in Pat's face and Pat tried to bite it "Are just mad that I already had my first kiss!"
Pat growled a little. Oh, Pran was so annoying. Not like they had a competition on who was going to kiss first, but Pat still felt hurt. Maybe they should have made it a competition, he would have won then!
"Who said I didn't?" he lied "I just don't like going around telling everyone about it"
"Now you're lying!" Pran rolled his eyes at him "I bet you don't even know how to kiss" and okay, that was Pat's last straw.
"Yes I do!" he exclaimed, pushing Pran against the tree and holding him in place. He had a few centimeters over Pran, so he puffed up his chest and straightened his shoulders to seem bigger.
"Prove it then! Let's see who's a liar!" Pran pushed back but didn't have enough strength to push Pat away.
That's a challenge if Pat had ever seen one. And he has never backed down from a challenge. So he leaned in. His lips softly met Pran's cheekbone, unlike the pushing and punching they usually do.
Maybe he shouldn't have lied to Pran. He doesn't know how to kiss! How long should he stay there? What should his hands do? Can he breathe?
Pran pushed him away before he found the answer to any of those questions.
"That's not what I meant, asshole!" he said grimacing and rubbing his cheek with his fingers as if Pat's kiss was poisonous and Pran would die if he didn't brush it off.
"See, I know how to kiss!" Pat declared. However, he felt small under Pran's judging eye. Despite knowing that look all too well, he felt like right now, if he didn't run away, Pran would burn a hole in him. So he turned on his heels and headed home.
Pat decided that Pran sucked a little less after the kiss. A bad person can't have such soft cheeks!
***
Pran didn't suck.
That's a fact that a thirteen years old Pat knew damn well now. Pran wasn't mean, he was just hard to get through, but once you do, you have a whole kaleidoscope of emotions and feelings to uncover.
Pran was still too thoughtful for a thirteen-year-old, but Pat grew to like that character trait of him. Pran was organized, whereas Pat wasn't, Pran was calm, whereas Pat was excited. A perfect balance. His perfect balance.
Pran laughed! His laughter was so precious, that Pat wanted to collect it in jars and keep them on his shelves. Pat thought that if that was possible, Pran's laughs would be a soft yellow color, like his fairy lights.
And Pran wasn't a bragger. At least now Pat didn't think that telling someone you have something is bragging. Pat liked to be the first to hear about all the new things Pran got.
"Mon and I kissed", he told Pran while sitting on his bed, English homework placed on his knees. Pat was smiling at Pran then, happy to tell his best "not" friend about the experience.
Pran's face changed, eyes and mouth seeming to droop just a notch. Pat wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't sitting so close, their shoulders and knees touching. A flicker of something like sadness passed over Pran's face. Pat thought it was odd, but didn't ponder it further, too enthralled in his own elation over Mon, his new girlfriend.
"Are you lying again?" Pran asked after a pause, voice small and lacking its usual wry edge. A smile was trying to break through, but it seemed to fail, leaving Pran's face too neutral for an attempt at a joke.
"No," Pat grinned, shaking his head. Just remembering the soft press of Mon's glossy lips made warmth bloom in his chest. "Want me to prove it?" he asked, arching a teasing brow. A challenge.
But Pran didn't take the bait, his face remaining carefully blank, like a mask. It looked too sad for the occasion. Pat's grin faltered. This wasn't the reaction he'd expected at all.
Pran's eyes were cast downwards to Pat's mouth, gaze soft and too out of it. Pat thought it would be funny to kiss Pran then. Not funny in a mean way, of course, but as a recall to when they were kids. Surely Pran still remembers that cheek kiss under a big oak tree. So he leaned in.
This time he knew what to do. He didn't hold his breath, because he liked smelling Mon's skin. Pran's skin didn't smell as sweet as Mon's scented, but it smelled good nevertheless. His hands came up to hold Pran's face, tilting him upwards for a better angle. He didn't care about how long it should last anymore, because he learned that there are no rules for that. Well, according to the Internet anyway.
Pran pulled away first again, looking down at his hands that were playing with the hem of his t-shirt. His ears were red, Pat noticed. Did he make Pran blush?
"That's not a real kiss" Pran rasped, voice dropping just a bit. It did funny things to Pat's stomach. He felt something he probably should've felt when Mon looked down like that after their kiss and mumbled a thank you in a sweet voice.
"What is a real kiss to you then?" he asked, chuckling despite feeling like this matter was important. Also, he wanted to make Pran say things that he knew Pran found silly.
"This was a peck!" Pran rolled his eyes, finally looking up. "Real kisses use tongue and teeth and…" he trailed off, eyes widening as if he saw a ghost. Pat wanted to hug him and giggle in his chest because this all was funny and so cute, Pat's chest bubbled with giddiness.
"Come back, when you have a real kiss," Pran said then. Pat didn't feel giddy anymore. Pran's voice was low and serious, he meant it. What did he mean? Should Pat come back to tell Pran about 'a real kiss' or show him? Pat would show him. Well, unless Pran has his first 'real kiss' before Pat.
"Deal," he said, raising his fist in the air, with a chuckle.
Pran bumped his fist with an unreadable expression.
***
Pat didn't think Pran would come.
In fact, nobody at the party thought he would, because when Pran entered the room, everyone went quiet for a second and just stared at him. Pran tried to shrink in size then, seemingly hating the attention, so Pat stepped in, yelling that the party just became more fun because he could finally have a drink competition.
Pran didn't drink, Pat knew that, but it made everyone either laugh or groan in annoyance and go back to their business. Pran was saved.
Not for long though, because just an hour later Mew dragged Pran into a truth or dare game. At the sight of Pran's distressed face, Pat stopped wanting to play that game.
He stayed of course. How would he explain the sudden change of mood?
They played rounds of boring dares and even more boring truths where he had to lick his armpit and Pran had to confess that he had never kissed before. It worsened Pat's mood further. Pran did have his first kiss! It was with Pat! How disrespectful! Sure tongues and teeth weren't involved, but it was still a kiss.
After that, the game lost all the appeal to Pat. He got bored after someone dared Kim to do the chicken dance. Unlike those truths or dares he read about in young adult books he borrowed from Pa, this game was unimpressive. Even the truths were boring! Why would anyone need to know what Gemma's favorite part in "Fifty Shades of Gray" was? So he left. Alcohol was making him feel hot, he needed some fresh air anyway.
Pat stepped out onto the balcony, the pounding music fading into the background. He leaned on the railing, welcoming the cool night air on his skin.
"What happened to 'I'll be partying all night like a crazy dog' Pat?" Pran asked, approaching him. He stood close to Pat, their shoulders touching, warmth exchanging between them.
"I am!" Pat exclaimed with faux hurt "I'm just taking a break"
"Right," Pran said and took a sip of his drink, which looked too much like beer. And smelled like beer too. Pat didn't say anything, Pran didn't like extra attention and Pat was curious to see what drunk Pran looked like.
Pran winced after his sip but didn't say anything. Pat just chuckled.
"Something happened?" Pran asked, not looking at Pat "You seemed off"
"Nah, it was just boring," Pat confessed, taking a sip of his own drink. Pran felt oddly hot next to him, his breathing oddly loud. Something was up in the air. Must be the alcohol.
"And that you said you've never kissed before," he said for some reason. He shouldn't have, it didn't bother him all that much, and more so, he understood why Pran said it. Extra attention. Besides, if he was asked who his kiss was, he couldn't say it was Pat and there would be even more attention on him because he would refuse to answer. But he asked him anyway. Must be the alcohol.
"It’s the truth, what else was I supposed to say?" Pran chuckled, taking another, bigger sip of his beer, wincing. Why is he drinking if he doesn't like it?
"Come on, we both know that's not entirely true." Pat tilted his head with a smirk. "Does a certain oak tree kiss not ring any bells?"
Pran rolled his eyes. "That kid peck does not count."
"Mean! I put my thoughts into that kiss!" He pouted. "What about when I kissed you when I told you about Mon?" Pat pressed the cup in his hands and it made a sound from how hard he was pressing. "You're really keeping up that 'real kisses use tongue and teeth and blah blah blah' shit, huh?"
He doesn't know why he remembered it. It's been three years since then. Maybe because he hadn't gotten that 'real kiss' just yet, he remembered what Pran considered real kissing to prove him wrong one day.
"It was a peck too, Pat!" Pran drained more of his beer, cheeks growing pinker. From the alcohol or their banter, Pat wasn't sure. "This is a real kiss" Something dangerous flashed in Pran's eyes. In one smooth motion, he grasped Pat's shirt and crushed their mouths together.
Pat froze in shock before melting into the dizzying kiss.
Pran was pressing his entire body into Pat, the beer cups falling from the second-floor balcony as Pat gripped Pran's body and as Pran wrapped himself around Pat.
Pran's hands were in Pat's hair, tugging, pulling, stroking, like Pran couldn't decide what exactly he wanted to do. His teeth clunked with Pat's at first, the skirr made Pat flinch, but he held Pran closer.
Pran smelled of bitter perfume, probably his dad's because Pran's ordinary perfume is much sweeter. Pat smelled beer too. He could taste it, to be precise. Or maybe it was beer from his mouth, he couldn't tell when Pran's tongue slipped in his mouth. Pat's tongue fought back, not to push Pran away, but to mirror his motion. It felt… Weird, but nice. Oh, so so nice a groan escaped Pat's throat.
He was pressed against the railing, Pran's lips were moving quickly and then slower, finding a pace. Pat tried to keep up, hands running up and down Pran's spine, because the need to touch Pran everywhere felt crucial at that moment.
They found a rhythm eventually, a slow one, a sloppy one some would say. They were taking their time to try out things. Pran was biting his lower lip, while Pat figured he liked teasing his tongue on Pran's lips.
Pat stroked Pran's sides, while Pran took care of his neck and hair. He seemed to like Pat's hair huh? Maybe he should grow them, so Pran would play with them more often?..
Pran pulled back at some point, decades later, breathing rapidly, as if he was running. He gulped once twice, inhaling deeply, before he could look at Pat and when he did Pat wished Pran was back on his mouth.
Pran's eyes were glossy, mouth angry pink and pupils blown so wide they were swallowing Pran's already black eyes. He was pretty, Pat thought.
"That's a real kiss" he coughed, peeling himself off of Pat and straightening his t-shirt. "I'm… I better go, my mom would be mad if I was late"
And just like that, he left, not looking back at Pat even once. Pat could only watch his back as it became smaller and smaller until it disappeared behind the door. His limbs felt numb and his mind dizzy like he drank more than two cups of this cheap beer.
Pran was right, pecking and kissing are two completely different things.
***
Pran is leaving.
Three words shook seventeen-year-old Pat to the core. The meaning vibrated through him, making his knees buckle, but he held tight. He can't fall to the ground and cry himself to sleep in front of his angry father.
"Pran is leaving" thundered in his head. Where? When? Why? Well, Pat figured why, but why should he leave? Pat is the one who screwed up, Pat should be the one leaving. No. No, neither of them did a thing bad enough to be worth sending one of them to who knows where.
Whatever his father yelled to him, the meaning was lost on him. He can't lose Pran! Not when he hasn't told him that he likes him yet! He had only figured it out a few weeks ago. He would've confessed sooner, but he never got the chance! They were busy with the Christmas concert and confessing his feelings for Pran while Pran was writing a love song about someone else seemed ridiculous to Pat, so he never did. He thought after the concert, Pran and he could sneak out to go to a cafe and he would tell him his feelings over a plate of sweet pancakes!
He won't get a chance now, will he? Pran is leaving.
When he was back in his room, it was already dark outside. Too dark. Usually, a light from Pran's room makes it a little less dark, but the lights are turned off in both of their rooms.
Did he already leave? When will he come back?
Pat sat by the window, staring at the dark room across, trying to make out something. A silhouette, a sound, any sort of sign that Pran is still there.
In the quiet of the night and his intense listening, he finally could make out a sob. He was jumping over the roofs in no time. Luckily, the window was wide open.
There, in a complete dark stood Pran. Pat's eyes were already accustomed to the darkness, so he also could make out a suitcase, half empty.
Pran didn't turn when Pat climbed in, he didn't move a muscle, he was just staring at the suitcase, tears running down his face. So Pat called his name, making Pran blink back into existence.
"You shouldn't be here" Pran whispered, not looking at Pat, which made Pat's nose sting. Pran must hate him. He doesn't even want to look at him.
"I know" was all he said before he let his forehead fall onto the back of Pran's shoulder. "I know"
It wasn't a hug, but they cried together for a while, Pran shaking with the force of his held-back sobs. Pat cried quietly, despite wanting to scream. Pran is really leaving…
When the tears seemed to dry for a bit, Pat turned Pran around, because he needed to look at him. For one last time. It definitely isn't going to be enough for Pat ever. There's never enough air before death, he thought, but he wanted to look anyway. He wanted to be with Pran for a little while longer, where they didn't have to face reality and just look at each other.
Pran looked back, thankfully. But the look made Pat want to tear down their houses brick by brick, just so he could maybe end that rivalry between their families. Pran looked almost crazy, eyes running over Pat's face, breathing so shallow, Pat feared it might be having a panic attack.
"I don't know…" Pran whispered, sniffing loudly. Pat's hands came up to brush his tears away. He'll confess now. He should. When he gets Pran to calm down.
"What?" he asked because Pran's words hardly made any sense.
"My life," he said "I don't know where to start packing my life into this tiny suitcase" More tears spilled before Pran fell face-first into Pat's chest. This time Pat held his tears back, he had to be the strong one now. They're a perfect balance, Pat should be calm, whereas Pran is breaking down.
As Pran cried in Pat's arms, his body wracked with sobs, Pat felt his own heart shattering. Every fiber of his being longed to blurt out his true feelings - that he loved Pran, had always loved him.
But as Pran's tears soaked into his shirt, Pat bit his tongue. Now was not the time. Pran was already overwhelmed with having to leave everything behind. Adding Pat's confession would only cause more uncertainty and pain.
So Pat swallowed back the words, ignoring the bitter taste they left. He didn't know if he'd ever get another chance to tell Pran how he felt. But Pran needed a rock right now, not a complication.
He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Pran's head, then his temple, landing his last kiss on Pran's shoulder instead, hoping they would convey some support and understanding Pat could offer.
Eventually, Pran's sobs quieted to shaky breaths. Pat kept holding him, letting the silence wrap comfortingly around them. There were no words that could make this right so they remained quiet.
After some time, Pran pulled back, wiping his reddened eyes with the heels of his palms. He looked utterly spent.
"Sorry," he rasped and Pat only shook his head in response.
"Let's turn on the lights," he said, turning to Pran's desk.
With some sort of light in the room, some of the tension eased. It didn't make things better, but it at least didn't make things worse. "Let's pack up the essentials first," he said then. The words felt heavy.
Pran just nodded, some tears spilling over again, but he didn't break down sobbing at least. Together they moved through Pran's room, Pran pointing out things like his laptop and favorite hoodie, while Pat placed them as carefully as he could into the small suitcase.
The suitcase felt strangely light for containing Pran's whole life. Pat's throat tightened as he clicked it closed.
"What time do you leave?" Pat asked quietly when he sat next to Pran against the headboard. He dreaded the answer.
"8 am," Pran said dully.
Pat glanced at the clock - 11:47 p.m. Less than nine hours left. Panic threatened to crush his composure, but he swallowed it down. He had to keep it together, for Pran's sake.
"Where is she taking you?" his throat was so tight around the lump, the words were barely audible.
Pran was quiet for a long time, breathing soundly and deeply as if he were trying to gain strength from the dust of his room. He finally shrugged 'I don't know' and dropped his head to Pat's shoulder, closing his eyes.
Pat wanted to take Pran's hand, stroke it, kiss it. He wanted to whisper sweet nothings to Pran's ear. He could say that he'll look for Pran, but he knew they knew that it would be impossible, that Pran would be out of reach for some time. They could only hope it wasn't going to be a long time.
Silence hung heavily between them. Pat's unspoken words - I'll miss you, I need you, I lo… - pressed against his lips, begging to be released, but he held them in.
At some point, exhaustion took over and Pran fell asleep, head heavy on the crook of Pat's neck. Pat buried his face in Pran's hair, inhaling him deeply, savoring the last moments together, and dropping the last few tears.
He left at predawn when the skies were painted gray. Pran was still fast asleep, Pat decided not to wake him.
***
Pran is here.
Turned out Pran would be out of reach for three whole years.
If someone were to tell Pat that Pran wouldn't be in his life for so long, he would probably punch them and then cry himself to sleep the following night. But it all didn't matter now that Pran was looking, no, glaring at him.
Pat would take it. He would take the anger, the disappointment, the hits, and the blows, as long as Pran was the one delivering them.
The kick to the chest didn't hurt, nothing hurt anymore when his brain picked up that it was finally Pran in the same space as him. Even the fight seemed to stop, as well as the sounds, the wind, and the time itself, it all stopped and the only source of life was Pran's eyes that reflected way too many emotions for this short period of time.
And then Pran's face changed again, twisting angrily. Pat mirrored the expression. Nothing has changed, they're still on the opposite sides of the barricade, but playing this role is nothing new. So they pretended to throw punches until they heard the whistle.
***
Pran is offering him the remedy cream.
Pat wanted to take that remedy cream, not because his cheek hurt, but because he wanted to spend extra minutes with Pran. He wanted to make sure that it was all real.
But Pran has changed. He doesn't look at Pat every chance he gets, he doesn't start a conversation with Pat as if he has nothing to say. It's been three years, surely Pat isn't the only one who wants to say so much.
But also no, Pran is the same. He was prim and proper, not a single strand of hair was out of place, even after the fight. It's like Pat is seven again, he wanted to mess him up.
So he taped his finger on his cheekbone, without saying anything, knowing that Pran would take it the wrong way. Pran ate the trap up like a good boy and Pat just bounced off of whatever Pran said next.
And he's glad it worked. Every snarky response he got, every eye roll and smirk, sent a tingling sensation across his skin. His lips yearned to stretch into a wide smile so badly that, as the conversation came to an end, his cheeks blazed with fire.
"I missed you," he said out of place when they exchanged numbers, his voice carrying a touch of vulnerability amidst the seemingly casual tone before.
It made Pran stop in his tracks, back getting stiff for a brief moment. That moment stretched on forever, but Pat couldn't bring himself to get nervous about Pran's reply. He deserved to know. He deserved to know how much Pat missed him.
"Yeah" With a soft expression adorning his face, Pran finally turned and met Pat's gaze, not a trace of sarcasm or malice on his pretty features. "Me too" he murmured before swiftly spinning on his heels and leaving.
***
Pran needs help.
And who Pat is not to help him?
He did it out of good heart, he would help anyone he knew, but with Pran, everything was a little extra. So he had to make an extra effort to help Pran, not only because Pran wouldn't let him at first, but also because he wanted to impress him.
With each day they spent together he felt his heart sizzling in his ribcage, wanting to explode at the mere sight of Pran. So working on the bus stop felt both like a dream and a nightmare.
He knew he wasn't ever truly over Pran, he harbored that love for so long just in hopes of seeing Pran again and spilling all the truth to him in an instant. But Pat wasn't stupid, dumping something like that on a person you like after not seeing each other for so long would only make things worse. And he hoped that they at least could be friends. Or at the very least they could be someone who nodded to each other when passing by.
But his feelings came crashing down, with a new force, like a wave of the ocean after a fast boat. Pat was overwhelmed to the point of alerting even Korn, who then started making comments about every architecture girl they saw. Pat didn't dare to say he had feelings not only for a guy but for the head of the architecture class himself.
It all came boiling down to the night when Pat was feeling especially lonely and came looking for Pran. He wanted to bother him, get in his space, bury his face in his neck, and whisper all of the silly things he had in his mind. Not that Pran would let him do it, but Pat was a dreamer first and a logical person after.
He found Pran by the ruined bus stop, looking extra soft and cuddly in his oversized clothes. Pat's throat itched in an attempt to hide a giggle.
Pran had his serious face on, exhaustion bleeding through his stiff shoulders, a crease in between his eyebrows, and his unwillingness to play into Pat's games after the greeting. So Pat figured he could flirt with Pran by helping him.
Hearing Pran call him "Theerak" was a near-death experience for Pat's mind, he had to retreat. He had to get Pran to be as breathless as Pat felt as revenge, so he chased after him until both collapsed on the warm asphalt.
Pran had his eyes glued to the night sky, unlike Pat. There were no loud sounds around, just far away roars of cars and cicadas singing their songs to the night air. The world seemed to shift into another universe, where Pat and Pran were trapped in a comfortable bubble. Where no one cared who they were and only they could rule the way the world was going to change after the bubble broke.
"Do you like it?" Pran turned to glance at him when Pat said it. "The new bus stop," Pat added, not wanting to confuse Pran.
"I do" Pran hesitated, voice coming out strained and weird. "I'm just not sure if they will do too"
"They will" Pat blurted out at the sight of Pran's distressed face "Because I do". He didn't mean to say these words like anything, but some words of reassurance, but they still came out as if he meant something more.
Pran turned again then, eyes big, scared, like a deer caught in headlights. Did he also hear the meaning behind Pat's words? Maybe, Pran was so smart and Pat was so easy to read.
The night was starry, no one was around. Pat should confess.
"I really do like it," he said, voice barely above the whisper. "It’s creative and cozy, it cares for people and looks so good, I wish I could…" he trailed off, continuing this would be too ridiculous. He couldn't say he wanted to kiss the bus stop, could he?
Pat rolled onto his side, propping himself up to gaze down at Pran. Their faces were just inches apart on the lit, deserted road.
"You know, when you were away, I was so damn miserable," he confessed quietly. Pran's eyes softened, fixed unwaveringly on Pat's face.
"I was failing in school, I had no motivation to do anything." Pat shook his head, ashamed to admit it out loud. But Pran just kept looking at him steadily, no judgment in his eyes.
"I was so angry with the world, I was getting into fights all the time." Pat could feel tears prickling and dropped his head down onto Pran's shoulder to hide them.
"It was so depressingly lonely for me," he admitted, muffled against Pran's shirt.
Silence took over for a long moment, covering them with a heavy woolen blanket, and insulating them together. Pat kept his eyes squeezed shut, breathing in Pran's familiar scent.
After some time, he felt gentle fingers card through his hair. Pran's touch was light at first as if soothing a spooked animal. When Pat didn't pull away, Pran grew more confident, his strokes becoming long and soothing.
"Why are you telling me all of this?" Pran said, his voice watery and shaky as if he too was holding back tears.
"Do you remember that Party in high school?" Pat diverted, reluctantly pulling himself up to look at Pran's face. "The only one you went to?"
Pran met his gaze, eyes dark and conflicted. Pat's heart pounded.
"You stole my first real kiss there, you know?" he said voice barely a whisper. Pran's breath audibly hitched. His hand froze in Pat's hair and he went very still, waiting. Pat slowly shifted closer, unable to stop himself from seeking Pran's orbit.
"Left me wanting another for years" Pat finished. The words seemed to lift years of unspoken feelings and sleepless longing from his chest.
Pran's eyes dropped to Pat's mouth, his own lips parting slightly. Drawn like a magnet, Pat leaned in until their foreheads touched, noses brushing.
Pat could feel Pran's quickened breaths against his lips. His eyes fluttered shut as Pran's fingertips grazed his jaw, his touch feather-light as if afraid Pat would pull away. But Pat only tilted closer, helpless to resist after wanting this for so long.
"We shouldn't" Pran's whispered plea ghosted warmly over Pat's mouth. Pat shivered, sliding a hand around Pran's neck to anchor himself. Pran's fingertips drifted back into Pat's hair, both pulling him nearer and keeping him tantalizingly close as they hovered on the edge of something that felt inevitable.
Pat was finding it hard to breathe with Pran so close, his familiar scent overwhelming Pat's senses. "I know" he murmured, nudging his nose against Pran's, unable to stop himself from seeking more contact.
He could feel Pran's resistance wavering as their lips hovered a hairsbreadth apart. Pat's eyes fluttered open to find Pran's boring into him, dark with longing and conflict. Desperate to end the unbearable distance, Pat finally closed the microscopic gap between them.
Pran made a soft sound low in his throat as their lips met. The kiss was gentle at first, both were hyperaware of the line they were crossing. But the years of pent-up yearning quickly took over.
Pat kissed Pran deeply, hungrily, hands coming up to cup his neck. Pran responded ardently, fingers twisting in Pat's hair, urgent sounds escaping him that only spurred Pat's need.
They clung to each other under the night sky, making up for lost time in feverish kisses and roaming hands. In this private world of warmth and stars, nothing else mattered but each other.
But when they finally pulled apart he found Pran not mirroring Pat's wide smile. Pran's eyes were full of tears, lower lip wobbling. Before Pat could react, Pran got up and scrambled away.
"Pran, wait!" Pat lunged after him, grasping his wrist. "Talk to me!"
Pran finally looked up at him, tears spilling over to wet his flushed cheeks. "Why start something we know will fail?" he whispered.
Pat's chest clenched at his distress. "How can you know that already?" he implored, reaching up to cup Pran's face. "We've barely even begun."
Pran leaned into his touch for a fleeting second before pulling back. "With our families and friends..." He trailed off miserably.
Understanding dawned on Pat. He smoothed his thumbs over Pran's wrists. "Don't you think I know?"
Fresh tears welled up in Pran's eyes. "Pat, please," he begged. "Don't make this more complicated. It will only end in heartbreak."
Pat shook his head, adamant. "It won't," he insisted, voice rough with emotion. Overcome with longing, he pulled Pran closer, burying his face in the crook of his neck and breathing him in. "I wanna be with you, Pran" Pat murmured earnestly against his skin. He clutched at Pran's shoulders, fingertips digging in with desperation and desire.
Moments crept by as they stood entwined. Finally, Pran's arms came up around Pat's waist, hands splaying across his back, he sunk into his arms, like a spoon dipped in honey.
Pat's heart swelled near to bursting. He pressed closer, kissing Pran's neck and shoulder, once, twice. The desire to bite threatened to overcome, so he stopped.
"Why are you so stubborn?" Pran whispered, voice thick with emotion. One of his hands drifted up to cradle the back of Pat's head.
Pat smiled against his skin. "Because you're worth being stubborn for," he replied simply.
He could feel Pran's huff of laughter. "Ugh, you're so cheesy," Pran complained, but there was undeniable fondness in his tone. His arms tightened around Pat.
Pat grinned, nudging Pran's cheek playfully with his nose. "Yeah, but you like it."
"I do not," Pran protested, but his words were belied by the smile in his voice.
"Mhm, sure you don't." Pat leaned back just enough to see Pran's face. Unable to resist, he darted in to steal a quick kiss.
Pran flushed, trying and failing to look stern. "Eager much?"
Pat just nodded enthusiastically, before swooping in to pepper Pran's face with more kisses. Pran squirmed, laughing. "Ai, Pat!" and he took off running.
With a satisfied grin, Pat followed Pran into the dark of the night, already anticipating getting as many real kisses as he could get.