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It’s easier than people think for Pran to slip into the background.
If there’s one thing he knows about others, it’s that they’re selfish. They have an innate urge to talk about themselves, to ramble on and on, for as long as they can get away with it. Someone is always bound to fall into the leading role of the conversation. Once the leader is established, all Pran has to do is stand there as that person becomes the sun, providing a guiding light for the others to orbit around. And by simply standing at the outskirts, he could go undetected every time.
It also helps that his circle of friends is a total of one person. Without connections, there aren’t any people to pull him into conversations. There’s no one to consider his participation, to think of including him, to think of him. Honestly, he prefers it that way.
He doesn’t have to worry about that when he’s with Jeremy. A peaceful tranquility, a shared silence, a content serenity. They sit in their room together, Jeremy crouched down on the ground, Pran laying flat on the bed, the mutual understanding flowing unspoken between them. The only sound to break the silence is an occasional sigh and the whirring of the fan in the corner of the room.
“My mom asked about you again,” his friend remarks one day, abruptly ending the prolonged quiet. Pran lets out a quiet mmh sound in acknowledgement. He waits for Jeremy to continue, but the silence falls back into place. It doesn’t feel as natural as before. It feels… tense, like a twig about to snap under your foot. For the first time in years, Pran momentarily feels nervous.
He decides he doesn’t like the feeling.
Finally, Jeremy speaks up again, his voice quiet. “She, uh. Asked if we were together.”
Pran blinks.
…That was it? That was why he’d broken away from their ritual? That’s why he had sent a wave of anxiety through him? Over an offhand comment about their sexuality ?
Before he can stop, an amused snort erupts from him. Jeremy whips his head around to glare at him, and Pran does his best to hold back his smile, but it’s a fruitless endeavor as the corners of his mouth twitch up.
“It’s not funny.” Jeremy scowls.
“Okay.”
“It’s not ,” he insists. His face flushes a light pink. “It’s embarrassing. ”
“I didn’t say it was funny.”
With a huff, Jeremy slides back down the side of the bed. “You’re such a jerk.”
The quiet returns, serene and soft. Sure, it had been disrupted, but he supposed he didn’t mind too much this time. He relaxed back into the bed, eyes focusing on a random speck on the ceiling.
Maybe it’s okay if some people think of him.