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'Whoever falls in love first loses.'
Pat is going to win this bet. It’s going to be so easy.
See, he knows Pran. He knows that Pran loves playing the guitar, he knows that Pran twisted his ankle while running in 4th grade, he knows that Pran’s laugh is the best sound in the universe.
He also knows that Pran does not know how to flirt - he’s never had a girlfriend or anything, and he always deflects when Pat flirts with him. On the other hand, Pat has had years of practice. So, you know. Logical conclusions.
(The fact that the thought of flirting with Pran makes butterflies erupt in his stomach is entirely irrelevant. Pat is going to destroy this bet.
Shut up, Pa.)
—
1
Humming under his breath, Pat steps out of his room and knocks on the one opposite. "Pran! Are you ready?"
They're going to a formal party today, and Pat is many, many things, but half-hearted he is not. He's got a dark maroon suit, almost velvet to the touch, with a black shirt Pa insisted would look good on him. Smoothing back his hair, Pat admires himself again - he looks pretty hot, if he does say so himself.
Twelve seconds later - not that Pat's counting - the door swings open, revealing a dressed up Pran, and it's -
Well.
Uh. Wow.
Pat just stares for a few seconds, bluescreening. Pran looks...gorgeous. His charcoal grey suit is perfectly fitted, showing off his lithe body. With his hair slicked back and combed carefully, he looks ridiculously handsome.
Goddamnit, Pat is so, so gone for this man.
Swallowing harshly, Pat steps forward. "You look so good," he blurts out, the honest words spilling out before he can stop them.
Pran, staring intently at his suit with something like awe, jerks his head up, ears turning red. "You look good too."
"I don't think I'll be able to keep my eyes off you, you know," Pat grins, laughter bubbling out.
Breaking out into a grin, Pran steps forward until Pat is pressed up against the wall. Then, carefully, he reaches out to Pat's tie and smooths it out. "You say that like it's a bad thing." Gently, he uses the tie to pull Pat closer until they're eye to eye. "I'll gladly have your eyes on me all day."
Pat decides maybe he doesn’t need his sanity after all.
—
2
There is someone knocking on Pat’s door.
Which would be fine, except it’s currently 3 in the morning.
The staccato knocks ring out again, and Pat groans, dragging himself off the bed. “Coming, coming, who’s lying on their deathbe- Pran?”
On the other side, Pran blinks at him, swaying slightly. "This isn't... my room?" He goes to take a step back, then aborts the movement halfway through. He smells faintly of a bar, which leads Pat to a conclusion that feels incredibly absurd.
"Are you drunk?" Pat asks, slightly incredulous. ‘Good Boy Pran’ getting drunk sounds like something that only happens in myths - but the response he gets is a nod, then a shake of his head, then a nod again. "Oh my god you're drunk!" This feels like exactly the sort of nonsense that would happen at 3am, but Pat is good at rolling with the punches. Sure, this might as well happen.
Laughing slightly, Pat reaches out to pull the shorter boy into his room. There’s no way he’s letting Pran wander around alone when he’s this drunk. When he’s met with no resistance, Pat grins and maneuvers Pran boy over to his bed. "Okay, handsome, let's get you to bed. Did you drink any water? Oh, a change of clothes is probably a good idea, let's get to the bathroom - Pran?"
Pran is staring at him, eyes tracking his every movement. "I'm handsome?"
Pat can't stop the fond smile spreading across his face even if he wanted to. "Of course. You're very handsome, you know. The most handsome person in the world." Pran probably won't remember this tomorrow, but even if he does, Pat doesn't mind him knowing. It's true, after all.
After a few seconds of consideration, Pran shakes his head. "I know someone more handsome."
"Oh? Who is it?" It better not be Wai, or Pat will - well, he won't do anything. He'll just be upset and sulk about it. But still.
Pran pauses, apparently deep in thought. "You'll keep my secret, right? You can't tell him, he's really annoying."
Pat snorts. He likes drunk Pran. "Promise."
Almost deflating, Pran nods. "It's - Pat."
For a few moments, Pat can't hear anything over the ringing in his ears. "M-Pat-?"
"He's like - a gangster," Pran frowns. "But he's also really nice. And he -" he points to his forehead. "- he has nice hair and he helps me even when he doesn't have to. He's so pretty." Pran nods like this is an accepted fact. "But he's also handsome. I want to..." he trails off, staring at the floor. "I want to make him smile."
The feeling in Pat's chest is hard to describe. "He's always smiling though, isn't he?"
Almost aggressively, Pran shakes his head. "Not like that! I mean like - his actual smile! The -" he draws a curve in the air. "Like when he plays the drums. With me."
Pat swallows harshly, trying to will away the flustered heat in his chest and fingertips. "Pran-"
Pran nods at him. "Don't tell Pat, okay?"
After a beat, Pat covers his eyes with a hand and laughs.
—
3
Pat grins, stepping onto the balcony next to Pran. "The moon looks nice tonight, doesn't it?"
Pran tries to hide a smile behind his hand. "There's no moon today, dork."
Exaggerating his movements, Pat makes a show of looking around before pointing at Pran. "Then what's this celestial object right here?"
Pran blinks, then laughs, sweet and low. "You're so - pfft, that's ridiculous."
"Only for you, baby," Pat winks at Pran's scrunched nose. "Anyway, I bought some snacks."
Pran leans forward curiously. "Oh, I didn't notice. What did you get?"
Pat grins. "Well, it's no wonder you didn't notice," he shrugs. "You were too busy staring at me the whole time."
An expression flashes across Pran’s face, too quick for Pat to decipher, before he grins back, both a challenge and an agreement. "Yeah, I was. You always call yourself handsome, so I was trying to see if you were right."
Up close, Pran's eyes look like they're full of stars - Pat thinks he could drown in them forever. "So? What do you think?"
Tilting his head appraisingly, Pran nods. "Hmm. You're okay, I guess."
Pat blinks, his cheeks aching from smiling so wide. "Just okay?"
Pran leans in closer, until they're almost kissing. "But I think you'd look better naked."
Pat's eyes widen, caught off guard.
Expression flattening, Pran nods his head seriously. "Your fashion sense is terrible."
Pat blinks stupidly at him, still processing the last few moments. "Huh?"
Taking the bag from his hand, Pran grins brightly. “Thanks for the snacks!”
—
4
Humming, Pat wanders around Pran's room. He's been here a few times without the owner, but it still feels like a novelty - that he's allowed to exist in Pran's space, that Pran trusts him enough to let him in.
If Pat thinks about it too much he'll start giggling like a grade schooler, so instead he sits down on the sofa and starts poking around the things on Pran's center table. Pen, smiley lightbulb, pen, charcoal pencil, smiley ball, sticky notes, sketchbook, loose paper, pen, smiley -
Sketchbook?
Curiously, Pat picks up the book and opens it. He loves Pran's drawings, but he's never seen this particular sketchbook before.
The first few pages are simple things, an apple and a table, almost like a warmup. Then Pat flips the page and it's -
He inhales sharply. It's pages and pages of him. His side profile, him eating a dumpling, him laughing, him angry - it's all Pat.
For a few seconds Pat just sits there and stares at the book. He knows that Pran draws things that are important to him. The fact that Pran has pages filled with just Pat? The fact that he's observed Pat enough to be able to draw him so well?
And Pran is careful enough with his stuff that Pat knows it's not just an accident that it's on the table. That means - Pran purposefully left it out for Pat to see. On purpose.
Pat shuts the book and hugs it to his chest. "Aaaagh!"
—
5
Pat groans in frustration, thudding his head onto the table. “I’m gonna drop out. I’ll run away and become a…farmer, or something.”
Lifting his head from his own teetering pile of books, Pran scoffs. “Farmers have to get up at 5am. You don’t get out of bed until 20 minutes before class.”
"Come on, you'll support my dreams, right babe?" Pat flutters his eyelashes.
Pran raises both eyebrows. "Why on earth would I do that?"
"Because -" Pat breaks into a grin. "You love me!"
The only response he gets is a dead eyed stare.
Pat’s smile turns coy. “Oh come on, Pran. Just admit it, you don’t have to hide it from me.” Clearing his throat, he sits up straight. “I totally understand why you’d fall in love with me, I mean, just look at all of this -”
“You’re right.”
“- fr- what?” Pat stops in his tracks.
Pran puts his pencil down and leans back with his arms crossed. “I said you’re right.”
Severely unprepared, Pat stares at him. “I - about what?”
Pran tilts his head, a smile on his face that, frankly, looks ridiculously cute. “You should become a farmer. You definitely have the muscles for it,” he says, clearly holding back laughter.
“Pran-!”
—
+1
“Why did you come?” Pran asks Pat after the rehearsal. “Don’t you want to win?”
Pat grins. “If my victory puts my boyfriend in trouble, I’d rather lose.” At the words, Pran flushes, red visible on his cheekbones.
And the bet - ‘whoever falls in love first loses’ - it’s a ridiculous bet and they both know it.
'Whoever falls in love first loses' except Pran's already lost all those years ago, sitting next to Pat with a guitar in his hands. And Pat smiles at him, wide and soft and Pran doesn't know how to not fall in love, how can anyone not fall in love with that boy? He's tried for so long not to love, he knows - it's impossible.
'Whoever falls in love first loses' except Pat isn't sure if he's ever not loved Pran - it's been there forever, a constant and steady emotion. It's in Pran's dimples and the way his losses hurt Pat too and the feeling that he would do anything to make Pran laugh. This steady love, the comfortable joy in his chest is a perpetual feeling he wants to hold in his hands forever.
'Whoever falls in love first loses' except they both know they're in love, they both know it's a hopeless game with no real loser - but neither of them will win, not really. It's a game with a zero sum outcome that is better than a victory.
With a huff of laughter, Pran turns away, ears red and eyes sparkling - and Pat thinks he would lose the bet a thousand times over just to see that look on Pran's face.
Bonus:
"Oh my god," Wai groans. "You're so insufferable. I literally cannot stand you."
"Hm?" Pran glances up from his phone, still smiling from ear to ear. "Sorry, what? Pat was texting me, so -"
Wai cringes. "You're horrible. Why are you like this." Louis laughs at his miserable state, the great friend that he is.
Pran raises an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Still face down, Wai just gestures vaguely. "You and Pat are gross."
"Oh, just because Pa rejected you -"
"Shut up!"
Pran grins, because he is the worst best friend in the world, but his phone pings, interrupting the conversation. He glances down, still smiling, and Wai watches as Pran clicks something open. Then he completely freezes, staring at the tiny screen in his hands.
Safe blinks. "Pran?" There's no response, so Louis reaches out and carefully pokes Pran's cheek. Still nothing. Brows furrowed, Wai leans over the desk to look at Pran's phone. And then desperately wishes he hadn't.
"What the - are you ogling Pat's muscles right now?" There is a picture of Pat on the screen. A very shirtless Pat.
Slamming his phone face down on the table, Pran straightens so fast Wai's surprised he doesn't have whiplash. "What - no, what. I was just - um. No way. No."
Louis raises an eyebrow. "...can I see?"
"Wh- no! What?" Pran turns to glare at him, accusing, but Louis just shrugs.
"Hey, Pat is built, I want to see."
Ignoring Louis, Wai squints at Pran. "Why the hell were you looking at shirtless Pat during our study session?"
"I didn't mean to!" Pran protests. "He just - sent it to me, and I -"
Safe tilts his head. "Oh my god, Wai, don't tell me you're homophobic?" On cue, Louis gasps, horrified.
"Are you se- I'm literally bisexual? Hello?"
Safe narrows his eyes. "He's dodging the question!"
Maybe, Wai thinks, this is karma. For what, he has no idea. But it's karma. "I hate all of you. So much."
Louis pats him on the back. "There, there. I'm sure someone will want to sleep with you eventually -"
Wai screams into his hands.