Behind the Scenes

SCENE THREE: PRAN TALKS

"Oh, I've wanted to talk about this," I say flatly, stirring the instant porridge after pouring hot water to the dry content in a bowl. The guy, peeling an egg to eat, lifts his eyebrow at me.

"About?" The short, incomplete question makes my eyebrow twitch.

"Why did you turn up here again so early in the morning? Didn't you mess with me enough last night? I must've failed to make merit properly this month since I'm constantly being haunted by an evil spirit."

"Maybe you don't have enough virtue."

"It will never be enough with all my sins. Anyway, don't you have food at your place? Is that why you always come here to steal mine?"

"Pa left early to submit her homework. There's a loaf of bread but no condensed milk. I hate jams."

"Do I need to know that?"

"In case you want to have it stored," that shameless punk replies, amused, and scoops a spoonful of thick porridge into his mouth. I grimace at the sight of some undissolved lumps on the spoon.

"Are you such an idiot that you can't even stir the porridge properly?"

"Huh, you were watching me. Are you that interested in me?"

"I pity you."

"Adopt me, then."

"No can do."

"Master Pran can definitely provide for poor, little Pat."

"Poor, little Pat with a freaking big mouth."

Seeing a smug smile forming on his face even when being insulted, I'm dispirited. I avert my eyes from his face and finish my hot porridge.

"How many times have I told you to clean after yourself?" Damn it, I left to take a leak for a moment and now I'm irritated again. "You dropped the bowl in the sink without even rinsing it."

"As a nagger, you're second only to my sister."

"Wash the crusty bowl yourself."

Pat responds with a grin. The kind of grin that makes me frown every time. His exasperating expression really gets on my nerves. I give up talking sense into the fool and turn my attention to the crusty bowl. I wonder how he was raised to be this nasty. He probably leaves right after filling his stomach back at home. And his sister must take care of him at their apartment.

I glare at him, who's staring back at me. Seeing his tied hair makes me feel even more frustrated. Can't he just cut it off? It bothers me as much as his existence.

"You'll get old fast from all that frowning."

"And you might never get old at all."

"Because I look young, right?"

"You'll die before you can get old."

"Savage."

"Just leave now that you're done eating."

"Kicking me out right after the meal? Cruel."

"Napat." I call his first name as this goofy little shit still jokes around. I'm not sure exactly when the first time he started teasing me with all these ambiguous jokes was. Sensing my cranky mood, he lifts his hands to surrender, an irksome smile still plastered on his face. There has never been a single time he loses this smile when I look at him.

"What time is your class?"

"Nine thirty. I'll be leaving soon," I reply, hesitating to ask back. Well, it'll be harder to chase him away if I don't. "What about yours? Will you leave now?"