Crossing the Line

Pran knew. He had already known, anticipated, acknowledged even back when they were still in high school that Pat will never feel the same.

There are a lot of factors for him to see that as an undeniable fact. He did not need to list them all as they have been engraved deep into his mind ever since the both of them had known each other.

But the heart wants what it wants. He could not force himself to stop liking the other just as he could not teach himself to like someone else instead.

He did not choose this, and he has no choice but to accept it and keep it to himself.

But knowing that and hearing a confirmation are two different things.

Although Pat confuses him with his careless words, mixed signals, and his caring actions, although he felt himself wavering at times and actually hoping again and again like a useless, stupid idiotic man, he kept it all to himself.

He had already known that Pat liked Ink. Just remembering how they were back then confirms this assumption of his. Not to mention he even told him so back at his room.

He saw them together almost every time he looks for him. He saw. He knows. He heard.

But again, the heart wants what it wants, and it still hopes. Even when it hurts. Even when it has been stabbed repeatedly, it remains the same, beating for that one person.

And now Pat had confirmed something that he never wanted to hear.

He wants them to be friends.

Pran wanted to laugh. Friends? He couldn't even hold his heart back when they still labeled themselves as 'enemies' and 'rivals'. Now he wanted them to be friends?

What a joke, huh Pran?

You've been friendzoned. How hilarious.

"And how exactly are we going to make that happen?" Pran asked. The wetness on his cheek burns him but he ignored it. Instead he looked at the scenery, away from Pat's mesmerizing eyes and puzzling tear, afraid that he might get sucked into it and just blurt out what he had been keeping inside him.

You can do this Pran, he psyched himself. You can do this. You are used to this pain. You've known this anguish for a long time now. You should manage yourself, at least at this time.

He wanted to cry. It hurts. No matter how many times, it never faded. It is painful. It's agonizing. But he had to hide it, had to keep it deep to himself.

He did not want anyone to see him weak. Especially not the person beside him.

Pat remained silent. He didn't say anything, but Pran could feel that gaze burning into him, disconcerting in its intensity. He carefully made sure his hands remained relaxed and not clenched like he wanted to since they are out in the open and can be seen.

But... he felt his eyes burned and it threatened to release a fresh set of tear against his will. Panicked, he casually wiped the teardrop that had fallen from his eyes before, hoping he'd be able to catch the cursed incoming drop.

F*ck it! Throwing caution to the wind, he brought both of his hands to his face and wiped the lingering wetness on his eyes.

He could just explain it as frustration, he decides.

He hates his tears. They seem to become abnormally active when Pat is the subject.

"We can't even pull the enemy status much, now friends?"

"We can pull the friend status since it won't be fake anymore," Pat started, voice strong and authoritative. He couldn't help looking at the other with his eyebrow slightly raised.

Yes, he thought to himself. I can do this. Just like usual Pran. Act like usual. It should be easy.

It is easy. It feels unnervingly natural, because that is what he has been doing all along. Pretend. Act like nothing is unusual. Do it until it becomes second nature. Until there are no other slip-ups. Until he could wear it protectively around himself like an armor.

"Uhuh. Our friends become rabid when they just see each other and you want this to happen? It's like they love to fight with each other."

"They are our friends. If they can't accept something like this and leave us then they weren't true friends to begin with," Pat assured him. He sounded confident.

Pran snorted and briefly looked away. That confidence is staggering in its potency. Breathe Pran, breathe. He bit his lip as he thought through what Pat wanted to do.

Tell their friends that the enemy thing was not really true? That they were actually friends? Hahah. How funny. As if they'll believe. He wasn't exactly falling when he becomes annoyed. Not to mention it wasn't even the full truth.

But then, maybe it'll work? He is getting tired of the stupid fights. He gets annoyed at how easily triggered the two sides are despite both him and Pat running interference with their aggressiveness. The slightest thing makes them go crazy it's ridiculous!

The way he was dragged into it is also kind of getting on his nerves. And all this maneuvering is making him slightly guilty.

Also, maybe he needs this label to finally manage to convince his heart to stop being tormented? To stop opening itself up for more hurt?

Now that he thinks about all that had happened this particular day...

Pran looked at the other, peeved at the conclusion he was drawing on his mind. "You just picked a fight with me because you wanted to label this complex setup between us?" Pran asked slowly, voice now sounding a little annoyed. "And you even called my song crappy?" His eyes narrowed.

Pat's eyes widened. "Hey! You called your song a 'little thing'!" He protested.

"It is mine. I have that much right." He feels childish but what can he do? His traitorous heart twinges hearing those words out of the person that made the song take shape and be born.

He has a grudge.

"You just said you co-wrote the song with your 'high school friend'. That's me so I should also have that right." Pat retorted. Pran felt himself getting pretty vexed at that.

"Oh, so you think it's crappy." There was a slight growl to his voice, but Pat ignored what he said. He seemed to be thinking something. Pran had a feeling he won't like what the other would say.

"... What?" He asked before he could help it.

"You said 'co-wrote the song with your 'high school friend'. Doesn't that mean we've always been friends even before?" Pat smiled in a smug way that makes Pran want to punch him in the face yet he feels this urge to smile, his lips threatening to form a slight grin.

Instead, he looked at the other in a deadpanned fashion, forcefully trying to stop himself from doing it. "You're funny."

"But it came right out of your mouth!"

"You know exactly what I meant."

"Yup! And that is that we're friends!"

"Oi Pat, don't decide things on your own," Pran released a breath. "You know what, before you do that, apologize for assaulting Wai earlier."

Pat frowned fiercely, his eyes glinting strangely. "Why should I?"

"It was uncalled for! You had no reason to do that! Being drunk does not excuse you of stupid behavior."

"Tell me you won't sing our song with him," he demanded.

Our. Song.

Here he is again, giving him strange ideas, raising his hopes up. Making him feel high while dropping him without warning.

Why? Despite his resolve, despite knowing, why does his heart not listen? Why does it tell him Pat is jealous? Why does it tell him to take a chance, continuously, repeatedly.

Just because of one song?

No. It's not because of the song, he decided after a few seconds of pause. It is because of Pat's actions.

He's got to stop overanalyzing everything Pat is doing to him. Before it became too late. Before he become so wrapped up in him he wouldn't be able to extricate himself without any damage.

"Like I said, it is my song. I wrote it. I'll sing it whenever and whomever I want. Stop being so wound up over such a thing." Pran said calmly. Then he leaned in a little forward, looking at Pat's eyes. "Or are you jealous?" He asked with a smirk, purposefully being annoying, bringing back their usual dynamic of rivalry.

Pat was stunned. He blinked for a couple of seconds before leering finally at him. "I'm not. After all, isn't it my song too?"

Pran's smirk slowly faded and he glared while rolling his eyes in annoyance and pulling back.

Just like usual. Because any more and he was afraid Pat would hear his loud heartbeat.

"It's not yours!" He said in exasperation. Before Pat could speak any more annoying words, he cut him off. "Apologize to Wai first. Then we'll see what to do with your stupid plan."

He heard the other sigh. "Do I have to?" He whined. Pran glared.

"Yes." There was no compromise in his voice. He stared down with hard, narrowed eyes until Pat nodded his head reluctantly.

Just friends. He could do that.

He would do that.

TBC.