Chapter Text
Pran had never been one for parties. At least the loud ones. They were obnoxious and irritating and it felt like he was always dancing on the line of a sensory overload. But almost the whole class was there so it wasn’t like he could just skip it. Especially when Pat had taunted him about it earlier.
Sure, there wasn't any alcohol involved, they were all 16 after all, but some sure behaved like they had been drinking.
There was a “bar” set up, with a variety of snacks. Everything from chips and popcorn, to candy and fruit. Of course there was also soda in a variety of flavors. Though Pran himself had opted for the less sweet lemonade. He didn’t like the way the surgery soda felt like it stuck to his teeth.
Some of his classmates had brought out games to play. One of the few things overpowering the loud music would be their shouts in victory or dismay. Until a moment ago Pran had been by those tables.
There was also the makeshift dance floor. A disco ball, fairly small and missing several of its sparkly pieces, hung from the ceiling. Only a small set of his classmates were actually dancing. If jumping up and down to the beat of the music could be called such. Pran assumed it must partially be because of the already warm temperatures challenging anyone deciding to work up a sweat. There was little a small air conditioner could do against the force that was a room full of teenagers.
No, Pran was definitely good. One must be a fool to enjoy that mess. Clearly though, not everyone agreed with him.
“Oi Pran! Why are you just standing there? Don’t want to join in on the fun?” Pran wished he could wipe the smirk off Pat’s lips as he headed towards him from the dance floor.
“And get all sweaty? I’m fine, thank you.”
Pran watched as Pat arrived at the snack table beside him. His hair that had been made before arriving was now tousled and messy. His cheeks were also a shade of red, courtesy of all the (if you are generous) dancing. The fact that he was building up a sweat was also evident. As Pat leaned forwards to refill his drink Pran could easily see a few droplets running along the nape of his neck and down under the collar of his loose sleeveless shirt.
“Aw, well. Suit yourself.”
Pran had expected Pat to leave but he remained, leaning against the table ever so slightly.
“What?” Pran asked, sounding just a small bit irritated. He also as he spoke tried to look at anything else but at Pat. Nothing good would come out of that. Nothing good would come out of knowing that if it had been anyone else Pran would have found the messy look off putting, yet he felt nothing but attraction to Pat. Nothing good would come out of acknowledging his crush.
“What? I’m allowed to be here.”
“Sure, then I’m leaving.”
Before Pran had a chance to follow through he felt a hand grab his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. Turning his head his eyes met Pat’s. Those beautiful dark brown eyes that could both so easily make him melt on the spot and rile him up to a point were he was almost willing to commit murder.
“Mon wanted to play some game, are you in?”
Pran was tempted to just say no and pull his arm away. He didn’t though. He wanted to believe that he just didn’t feel it was necessary, but a more realistic part of him knew that pulling away from Pat was always difficult.
So with a sigh he replied, “What game?”
“He didn’t say yet. He wanted as many people as possible though.” Pat just smiled, which was absolutely devastating.
“Come and ask me again when you know what the game is.”
“Don’t tell me khun Pran is scared of losing against little old Pat just because he doesn’t know what game it is, hm?” There it was, the tone Pat ever only used on Pran. A challenge, a bet. Pran could push Pat away, deny his requests, but he couldn’t turn down a challenge. There was no way he was going to let Pat win, to lose against him.
“In your dreams.”
That’s how Pran ended up in the situation that he did, basically everyone in the party sitting in a big circle on the makeshift dance floor. The music had been turned down so it was possible to communicate without shouting but the sad disco ball still hung above them. On the floor in the middle of the circle was a bottle.
At first Pran had thought that they were going to be playing something like truth and dare with it. Apparently he was wrong.
“Let me introduce you to Slap or Kiss!” Mon’s voice was loud and filled with excitement, definitely speaking louder than strictly necessary.
He explained the rules just as enthusiastically. They were fairly simple. One person spins the bottle, and then leaves the room. The remaining players get to vote on whether or not the person the bottle landed on needed to slap or kiss the person that spun the bottle. Rinse, repeat.
It wasn’t exactly a game one could beat someone else in, and neither did Pran feel like kissing or slapping anyone. Though slapping Pat might be pretty satisfying. But leaving now, after Pat had gotten him to agree to the game, somehow felt like a loss. So he stayed.
There were some exciting moments, but nothing too engaging. The kisses just ended up being on foreheads or cheeks, and most slaps were too soft to even matter. Pran wasn’t arguing for his classmates to beat each other up, no, but come on.
Instead Pran’s main source of entertainment came from watching Pat. No matter the slap or the kiss he could count on his rival showing animated reactions and cheering people on.
At some point the bottle landed on Pran, and he was forced to look away. He ended up having to slap one of his friends. When he spun the bottle subsequently it landed on one of the more reserved girls in their class. She was cute, Pran admitted, but he was also gay and not interested in that way. She ended up having to kiss him, which she did by barely placing her lips on his forehead.
Pran didn’t really care. If anything he was happy that the attention was off him after a few cooing noises from some of his classmates.
When he went to look back at Pat, he noticed that the other wasn’t even looking at him.
Somehow it made Pran irritated. The whole class had been looking at him, except the one person whose attention he actually wanted.
The game continued and Pran started to really consider leaving. He had partaken, so surely it wouldn’t be a loss in his book if he did.
Just as it does the bottle of course lands on Pat, and Pran can no longer find it in himself to go. The spinner was a close friend of Pat’s, and when the vote comes out to a slap no one is surprised. Pat does use enough force where a faint red mark is seen on Kung’s cheek but the laughs after are proof that there are no hard feelings. It was just a game.
When Pat spins the bottle Pran can’t but hope it might land on himself. If only so that Pat would be forced to give him attention. And so that Pran could slap him, that would feel good too.
Sadly, that’s not what happens. Instead the bottle stops on the last person Pran wants it to.
It stops on Ink.
Ink that he is pretty sure Pat is crushing on. Ink, that seems to enjoy Pat’s company in return. Ink, that is such a nice girl that Pran frustratingly can’t find any faults in.
Pran can see the way Pat’s eyes grow, the way they sparkle under the weird lighting. It absolutely kills Pran inside seeing how excited he is. Because he is the class president, because everyone likes him. Because there was only one turnout that this vote could have.
“Everyone voting for slap, up with a hand.”
Of course Pran raises his hand. The last thing he wants is to see his crush kiss someone else. Not that it matters.
“That’s four for slap. Who votes for kiss?”
Barely has Mon asked the question before there are several hands in the air. The most enthusiastically from the guys closest to Pat. Clearly they just want to support their friend. Pran hates it.
“Kiss it is. Get Pat back in here.”
Pran also hates the look on Pat’s face when he enters. He looks almost… shy. Like this vote really mattered to him.
Pran watched as Pat sat down in front of Ink, eyes still sparkling in anticipation. Then Ink leaned in. It’s just a kiss on the cheek, brief and rather boring. But it hurts, it hurts so damn much. Mostly because it makes Pat look euphoric.
It took a second for Pran to realize how tightly he waa gripping his own hand. His fingers dug into the palm of his hand almost threatening to break skin.
The game didn’t matter to him anymore. He needed to leave.
Before he had a chance though, suddenly he heard Mon’s voice again.
“It’s Pran! Alright Ink, head out.”
Looking up, coming out of his own self wallowing, Pran realized everyone was looking at him. This time Pat was too. But now Pran can’t bring himself to look back at him. He just can’t. He just needed to finish his turn and then he would be out.
When the voting started Pat is the first to raise his hand for the slap, and soon a majority follows suit. Pran doesn’t particularly feel like slapping Ink. As established, she was a nice girl. But he supposed it was better than kissing her.
“So, what’s my fate,” Ink says jokingly as she sits down in front of Pran. She is smiling that sweet smile of hers.
“I’ll have to slap you, I’m sorry.” Pran truly means it.
“It’s fine. I’m tougher than I look. Do your worst.”
Pran definitely doesn’t do his worst. If he complained about people being boring before because they used no force then he is just as guilty now. But he didn’t care. Just a spin of the bottle, a slap probably, and then he could leave.
So he spins the bottle after Ink has left after yet another apology. He barely pays attention, not until he hears a loud gasp from a very familiar voice.
Pran’s head snaps, meeting Pat’s eyes as he is staring at Pran.
“Pat. Oh well if this isn’t interesting. Pran, please leave the room.”
Pran was already on his feet before Mon had finished speaking. He would take any excuse to leave the room that he could take. Even if this was a pointless one. He knew what the turnout would be. Everyone knew of their rivalry, often even spurring them on more.
Nowadays they don't often actually physically fight. They competed for sure, and fought verbally. Not physically. That didn’t stop their classmates from trying to get them to though.
“Good thing I still have bruise cream at home…,” Pran mumbled to himself as he leaned against the wall.
—
Pat watched Pran leave the room. So did everyone else to be fair. But Pat was different. While everyone else saw an opportunity to rile up their rivalry, Pat picked up on Pran’s slightly slumped but tense shoulders.
Not that he could do anything about it now, but he would make sure to ask him later, when they were alone.
“Alright. Votes! Who says slap?”
There are hands in the air almost immediately. It is to be expected. It wouldn’t be the first time Pat hit Pran either, not by a long shot. It felt dirty like this though. It wasn’t a proper fight. If Pran just let himself be slapped what was the fun in that? Pran fighting back was what made it fun.
“Well, I think we don’t need to ask-”
“Wouldn’t it be more fun with a kiss?” It is Ink’s voice that stops Mon’s mid sentence.
Suddenly the room is silent, everyone staring at her. For a second Pat is confused as well, because he doesn’t get it. What would be the fun in him kissing Pran? Two people who their classmates, wrongly, believe hate each other.
What would Pran even think about it? Surely he would be disgusted and… Oh.
Something clicks. Ink is right. Pran’s reaction would be way more fun if Pat kissed him rather than slapped him.
“Pran would be so freaked out,” Pat finds himself saying. Suddenly he really likes the idea of kissing Pran. He can already imagine it. Pran flustered as he tries to form an insult before he pushes Pat away.
The image is almost… cute.
Which is very weird. Pran isn’t cute. He is cool and awesome. The only person good enough to compete against Pat. The only one good enough to keep up with him.
Pat’s comment seems to make his classmates change their minds, as more voices agreeing speaks up.
“Shit yeah that would be amazing.”
“Pat might get slapped in return.”
“Yeah, a slap is nothing special with them.”
Pat isn’t as confident in his own words anymore after that. The idea is funny, yes, but it would also mean Pran getting flustered in front of their whole class.
“Right, right. So who votes for kiss?” Mon’s question stops the increasing volume of the chattering teens. Not surprisingly, a lot of people changed their minds. Even without counting it’s clear what has won the vote.
Pat feels Kung nudge his side. “You should totally kiss him on the lips. That will make him lose his shit.”
“Even I think that would be cruel, man.” Pat had fully accepted the idea of kissing Pran. It wasn’t even a bad thought.
“You think he wouldn’t follow through with it just to mess with you?”
“I’m not sure…”
“I thought that’s what you did? Always competing and taunting each other. Imagine how good a victory like that would be.”
Pat bit his lip. He loved seeing the expression Pran did when he lost. And if he really wanted to experience that flustered Pran he had imagined just moments ago, this was it.
—
Pran had tried his best to make himself mentally prepared while he waited. It felt like it had taken longer than last time he was out here waiting for the vote. Though surely that was just his imagination. If anything, this should be quicker given how obvious the outcome was.
One thing he noticed when he got to return to the room was an odd tension. Perhaps anticipation was the better word to use.
What were they expecting? For Pran to hit Pat back afterwards? Pran was not about to start a fight here. Even if it would be a good way to relieve the pain in his chest he knew it was only a temporary distraction.
Pran didn’t look at Pat. Not when he walked in, and not when he sat down in front of him.
Pran doubted that Pat would actually like slapping him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do it properly.
Hence, Pran closed his eyes tightly, preparing himself for the hit that he knew would come.
The hit he knew would come…
The hit that…
Suddenly Pran felt the push of something warm against his lips. Another pair of lips to be exact.
They were only there for a second but it felt like an eternity. Pran’s eyes immediately opened as realization hit him.
Pat had just kissed him.
All the suppressed emotions seemed to break out of their cages. He didn’t stand a chance stopping the deep blush that quickly decorated his cheeks and all the way up to his ears. There was no way to stop the warmth swirling in his chest, or the way his mouth fell open in shock.
Pran felt helpless, completely at the mercy of his own racing heart.
He registered someone wolf whistle and a few ‘oooh’s. He also picked up on some people laughing.
Lastly he noticed Pat.
Pat that was staring at him with wide eyes, confused, like he was trying to understand Pran’s reaction.
Pran really, really, didn’t want Pat to understand his reaction.
“What the fuck?” Pran was pretty much forcing himself to speak. “Really?”
It seemed to shake Pat out of his shock as well. “You should have seen yourself! Absolutely worth it.”
“You are nuts… asshole.” Pran clicked his tongue. Bantering was easier, that he could do. Anything to disperse the tension.
“It’s all part of the game,” Pat said as he pouted. That specific pout that was clearly just on for show and to unknowingly play with Pran’s heart. “Come on, a kiss on the lips is nothing!”
“Have you ever heard of consent, idiot?”
“It’s just a game Pran!”
Right. It’s just a game.
—
Bonus-
Pat laid on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. His Nong Nao he of course was hugging close to his chest.
Exhaustion was catching up to him after the long party. He had had a blast during it. Surrounded by friends and a shitton of snacks and drinks and drowning in loud music, what could be better?
Yet it wasn’t that specifically that Pat’s mind seemed to want to return to.
Kissing Pran had been… weird. He had expected to hate it. That was the only logical reaction surely. But… he hadn’t.
Kissing Pran had somehow felt good. Natural. Just like how he was always close to Pran, this felt like an extension of that.
It was still odd to kiss a friend. But out of anyone of his friends he supposed he minded Pran the least. If he ever had to kiss one of his friends on the lips again, he would pick Pran for sure. That wasn’t weird.
As tiredness took him over his thoughts became hazier. He repeated the memory of kissing Pran over and over in his head. Perhaps in his imagination his lips had lingered a bit longer, perhaps Pran had even leaned into the kiss.
At some point he fell asleep, hugging his Nong Nao and dreaming of Pran. It wasn’t like anything else more exciting had happened during the evening anyways.