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It is strange to think that only a few months prior, Korn and Wai would have been at each other’s throats if they were within arms-length of each other, and now they are sitting opposite each other arguing about the best way for the group to celebrate New Year’s Eve.
Korn has his heart set on Phuket, and his enthusiasm is even wearing down Wai’s resistance.
When the matter of keeping Pat and Pran’s relationship under wraps in a public setting comes up, Korn is prepared.
“It’ll be packed,” Korn reasons, and Wai even nods slowly in consideration. “On the off chance that someone we know is there, what are the odds we run into them? It’s the perfect place for Pat and Pran to hide in plain sight, and it’ll be a huge celebration! Everyone and their mother will be there!”
“Exactly,” Wai seems to snap out of that dangerous territory of almost agreeing with Korn. “‘Everyone and their mother will be there’, which increases the likelihood of someone knowing them!”
After that, the two of them derail into a strangely charged debate between sentiment (Korn) and logistics (Wai). Since they seem to be forgetting the original point anyway, Pat leans back in his seat to enjoy the show, one hand on Pran’s knee.
“Is it just me, or is this weirdly flirtatious?” he mutters to anyone who was in hearing range. To his disappointment, it is his own sister who rallies first.
“You would think arguing is foreplay,” she says, and Ink presses a kiss into her hair with a smile, as if Paa just said something particularly clever.
To be fair, she probably isn’t that far off, but he still turns to his boyfriend for support. Again, a betrayal, as Pran looks back at him with a pitying look, clearly suppressing his own fondness.
“Traitors,” Pat says, slumping against Pran in exaggerated defeat, but Pran simply tangles their fingers together and squeezes.
“I like Korn’s idea, but Wai isn’t wrong, either,” Pran says, later, when it is just the two of them in Pran’s dorm. Pat glances at him, and Pran looks resigned, slightly conflicted. Pat knows that look—he doesn’t see it much these days, and it always just stings just a little bit.
“Another time, then,” Pat says, and Pran’s expression softens into relief accompanied by a hint of guilt. “I kind of like the idea of our first New Year’s being just us, anyway.”
“Some day, though,” Pran says, and it sounds like a promise.
In the end, it ends up being just Pat and Pran anyway, and Pat knows the decision is the right one.
Once again, they are on a bus headed toward Uncle Tong’s village, but the sun is shining through the window onto Pran’s face, and their fingers are loosely interlocked over Pat’s knee. Pran seems relaxed, content to enjoy the view, his shoulders relaxed and his knee occasionally nudging Pat’s.
It’s a stark difference to the last time they took this trip, and Pat is savoring every minute of it.
He knows they can’t rewrite the past, but in this moment, he can already feel something start to heal.
They arrive at the beach fully prepared to earn their lodgings once again, but this time, Uncle Tong waves their offer aside. “By all accounts, I should put you both right to work, especially with how busy we are this time of year,” he says, eyes narrowed, but his tone is warm, playful. “But you’re in luck— Junior was here and he brought friends along, and I was more than happy to put them to work.”
It is clear that a lot of time and effort has been put into decorating the beach, and there’s a sense of warmth and serenity compared to many other beachfronts on New Year’s. There are tents and shelters strategically set up along the beach, string lights and torches lighting the way just enough that people could see their way to where they need to be. There are a few other tents set back from the beach where people are preparing food or have light snacks and drinks already available for the guests.
A few people are milling around, voices carrying but conversation indistinguishable. There’s a sense of peace here that neither Pat nor Pran can fully understand, but it’s accepted nonetheless.
“We didn’t want to assume,” Pran says. “Thank you again for having us.”
Uncle Tong looks at them, then, his expression softening into something fond, and it’s all Pat needs to nudge his hand into Pran’s, finding that it’s already waiting for him.
“Celebrations will start in a few hours,” Uncle Tong says. “We have space in one of the lodges available.” With that, he puts a hand on each of their shoulders, squeezes, and walks off.
They find their room easily enough, and Pat sets down the overnight bag he’s been carrying, before flopping back on the bed with a sigh.
“Don’t be a heathen,” Pran scolds him, and shoves Pat off the bed without warning Pat catches himself with one foot planted on the floor. “Get washed up and changed.” That said, he leans over the bed to give Pat a kiss before scrambling off himself.
“My boyfriend puts up such a polite front around others,” Pat says, dramatically, but he gets to his feet and digs into the overnight bag for their change of clothes. “Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life?”
He’s met with silence, and when he looks up, Pran is watching him, a brightness to his eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
“That’s a pretty long time,” Pran says, a smile creeping over his face, and Pat just shrugs, laying their clothes out on the bed. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Pran’s smile widen.
Pat tilts his head, puffing out his cheek, anticipating another kiss, and is not disappointed. Pran even lingers, his lips brushing Pat’s cheek as he speaks. “But we really do need to get going if we want a good spot.”
“Yes, sir,” Pat says, stealing one more kiss, even if it’s just to get Pran to laugh and shove him away.
They walk to the beach hand in hand, stopping briefly at one of the food tents to grab something to eat and a drink for each of them. It isn’t particularly crowded, but there’s enough people that they have to walk a little farther down to spot an available tent.
Somewhere in the distance, someone is playing music and there’s soft conversation nearby, but once Pat and Pran are settled under their tent, looking up at the stars, it really does feel like it’s just the two of them.
After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Pran speaks, his eyes still on the stars. “It’s different here than it would have been with everyone else.”
It’s a simple statement, but Pat hears what Pran is saying nonetheless, and he slides his hand over, interlocking their fingers. They both carry the weight of sneaking around every day, and dream of a day where they don’t have to.
“All I’ve ever wanted was to be able to celebrate special occasions with you, Pran,” Pat says, and when Pran raises an eyebrow at him, Pat squeezes his hand. “I mean it! Even if I didn’t understand it, even when we were kids , I wanted it. I always wanted to know what you were doing, who you were with. I imagined myself sneaking over to your place so I could check out the competition.”
Pran laughs at that, the miniscule tension that had been settling into his shoulders dissipating. “Every event your parents hosted always seemed like such a celebration,” he muses, looking at Pat out of the corner of his eye, a smile tugging at his mouth.
“You only saw that because it was what your parents did,” Pat reminds him, and Pran’s smile turns wry. Pat refuses to let tonight be one of those nights, so he scoots himself closer to Pran, pressed close hip to thigh, and Pran immediately leans into him.
The night stretches on, and eventually, Pran’s head tips onto Pat’s shoulder. The weight of it is welcome, and Pat instinctively rests his hand on Pran’s head, stroking his hair.
“I wouldn’t have wanted anything more than this, you know,” Pran says, head tilting so he can look at Pat properly. Pat drops a kiss onto Pran’s forehead in response, nodding.
Soon, the atmosphere around them shifts into something more charged, active, as the evening approaches midnight. Pran adjusts himself against Pat, lifting his arm to check his watch, and they both huddle close in the low light, watching the numbers tick.
Midnight arrives with an explosion of cheers and celebration, with Pat and Pran joining in from their tent, but otherwise, they keep to themselves, just for this year.
Once people start going their own way for the night— some to the lodging provided, some fully prepared to spend the night in their tent— Pat and Pran get to their feet.
“You know,” Pat says, brushing himself off. “Uncle Tong said there wouldn’t be fireworks, but I think I can arrange something back in our room.”
Pran’s expression twists, struggling to hide his amusement and failing. “I’ll expect a pretty good show, then.”
Pat grins, triumphant. “Race you.” Pran groans at that, holding up a hand.
“Pat, it’s too late for racing. Can’t we just have a nice, romantic stroll back?”
Pat immediately holds out his hand, abandoning all competition. Pran grins at him, slaps Pat’s hand, and takes off across the sand at top speed.
“Pran!” Pat yells, scrambling after his boyfriend, and Pran’s laugh carries back, spurring Pat on even faster.