Chapter Text
"What is wrong with you, Tee?" Por roughly pushed the boy in front of him, his tone agitated. He normally never raised his voice around TeeTee, but he had to do it this time.
TeeTee fell back against the high table, his arm banging against it loudly. He winced.
Por instictively reached out, concern clouding his eyes. But he paused, withdrew his hand. Not yet.
"P'por, please, I..." TeeTee didn't seem to care about the bruise blooming on his arm, reaching towards Por in an attempt to calm him down instead.
But he didn't even get to finish his sentence when Por's hand moved to the luggage beside him, dragging it out of their apartment. TeeTee could do nothing but watch.
"P'por!" Por slammed the door open and threw the luggage out.
"Get out." He said, his voice trembling. TeeTee lifted his gaze to meet Por's, but Por turned away.
Por had always had a soft spot for TeeTee, and TeeTee knew that. One look into TeeTee's eyes, and Por would see the hurt there, the sadness, the confusion at why Por was acting like this. And he would give in again. He always did. But not this time.
There was a long pause. Por could sense that TeeTee was waiting for something more, for Por to look at him. For at least an explanation. But he clamped his mouth shut and waited instead.
"Fine," TeeTee finally said, "If you want me out of your life so badly."
The corridor leading to their door was narrow, and TeeTee shoved his way past Por.
He picked up the luggage, looking back one last time. But when Por didn't move, he turned, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.
It was only when Por was sure TeeTee had left that he dared to gaze in TeeTee's direction, that he allowed his tears to fall.
Then the flames came.
They started small, little patches of fire near the stairs, then ravaged through the hallway. Savage, all-consuming.
They sped toward Por, making him stumble backward. He fell, frozen in place by the terrifying inferno.
"P'Por..." came TeeTee's haunting whisper.
It was desperate. "P'Por..." the voice was saying nothing but Por's name, yet it seemed to scream "help me".
Por covered his ears, curling into a ball. The voice pressed closer and closer, like four walls crushing in on Por.
The flames licked at his skin, but they didn't smell like burnt paper, or charcoal, or anything Por thought fire would smell like. The scent was minty, fresh and cool.
"It smells like TeeTee," Por thinks as he shuts his eyes and the flames swallow him whole.
"Por, you're burning up!" Someone exclaimed, pressing a hand to Por's forehead.
Por blinked awake, his vision blurry before he recognised the man in front of him.
"P'Tho, how did you get in?" Por rubbed his eyes. That dream again. Por hated it.
"I...I peeked at your password over your shoulder that time...I mean, look what's happening now! Imagine if I hadn't shown up." Thomas was already rushing to the bathroom with a basin and cloth.
Right. Only Thomas would barge into Por's house in the name of brotherly love. Sometimes Por wondered how they were related, when their personalities were so different.
"Why are you even here?" Por asked blearily as Thomas emerged from the bathroom and plopped down next to Por on the bed.
"Kong insisted that we come check on you. He's always so worried about his friends, isn't that cute?" Thomas started wiping Por's arm as he rambled.
"Ugh, can you stop bragging about your boyfriend for one second and just answer the damn question?" Por already felt his head spinning from the fever. He had no energy to deal with this right now.
"All right, all right," Thomas sighed, "Kong was worried. Especially cause today is...well. You know."
Por turned away. Was it already that day? The memories flooded back into his mind. He pursed his lips, feeling the tears well up in his eyes.
"Hey, hey," Thomas's tone softened as he started wiping Por's tears away, "We'll always be here for you, okay? Me, Kong, Auau, Save...we all knew him too."
Por squeezed his eyes shut.
"You can talk to us about him if it makes you feel better." Thomas offered.
But Por knew, deep down, he wasn't ready yet. He wasn't ready for this day, and he definitely wasn't ready to talk about him.
He braced himself and opened his eyes again slowly, his gaze drifting past Thomas's worried face to the calendar behind him.
And there it was. The date he dreaded.
Saturday, 16th October 2030.
TeeTee's second death anniversary.