Chapter Text
Their school was a grand colonial building, stone walls echoing with voices that carried far too well. Secrets did not last here. Not in the classrooms, not in the courtyards, not in a town where everyone knew your family, your history, your blood.
Pran was always careful. He had to be.
His parents had raised him with rules tighter than the strings of his violin: do not cross the line, do not look at that boy, do not give the neighbors another reason to whisper. And yet… his heart betrayed him every single time Pat came too close.
That night after practice, the sky outside was already navy, lanterns flickering faintly along the paths. Pran lingered in the hallway, rearranging music sheets he had already stacked three times, stalling until he could leave without seeing Pat.
But fate had other plans.
Pat was waiting.
He leaned against the corridor wall, sleeves rolled to his elbows, shirt collar loosened like he never cared about rules. He looked wild, free, utterly untouchable.
And foolish, desperate Pran looked.
Too long. Too soft. Too much.
Their gazes met.
Pat tilted his head, eyes narrowing, lips curling into the kind of grin that always meant trouble. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Pran’s blood ran cold. He straightened, scoffing, clutching his violin case so tightly his knuckles whitened. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Pat pushed off the wall, stepping closer with that careless swagger that made Pran’s chest tighten. “Don’t lie. You looked at me differently. Like…” His voice dropped, softer, more dangerous. “Like I’m not just the boy you’re supposed to hate.”
Pran’s jaw locked. He turned his face away, praying the dim light hid the heat crawling up his neck. “You’re imagining things.”
Pat didn’t stop. He took another step. The air shifted, heavy, intimate. Their shoulders brushed, the faintest contact, but to Pran it felt like a confession screamed out loud.
“Then why are you shaking?” Pat whispered.
Pran froze. His breath stuttered, betraying him. His whole body betrayed him.
Pat leaned closer, just enough that his breath ghosted across Pran’s ear. “You think I haven’t noticed? The way you stare when you think I’m not looking? The way you run the second I get too close?”
Pran’s heart hammered against his ribs. Every instinct screamed at him to shove Pat away, to snap, to protect the secret he had guarded for years. But his body would not move.
So he did the only thing he could: he lied. “Stay out of my way.”
His voice cracked.
Pat smiled, small and dangerous, like he had just won a battle Pran hadn’t even realized was happening.
Pran stumbled back, eyes wide, chest heaving, before turning sharply and storming down the hallway. His feet pounded against the floor, each step heavier than the last, shame clawing at him, fear choking him.
But even as he left, he felt the weight of Pat’s gaze on his back.
Pat didn’t follow. He didn’t have to.
He leaned against the wall again, grin fading into something softer, more curious. He whispered into the empty corridor, “So it’s true.”
And in that single, fragile moment, Pran’s secret was no longer his own.