Unraveling and Entangling

chapter 1

Pran was feeling exhilarated. He did it. He sang the song that he had written for his Pat.

His Pat.

Pat who was smiling at him throughout the performance. Did he realize that the song was for him? Pran didn't want to keep guessing anymore. He was going to leave his insecurities behind and tell him today after school. He had been thinking about this for a long time, weighing all the pros and cons, taking into consideration every possible outcome that could result from this revelation. If his worst fears came true and Pat started hating him for real, he had a plan for that too. His family was going to his grandparent's house for Christmas break and he could hide there for some time. Maybe Pat would forget about the confession by the time break was over. If not, maybe he could convince his mother to transfer him to the school in his grandparents' town citing better results and more students getting accepted into National University from said school. He had done his research and had numbers ready to prove it in case his mother needed more convincing. But right now with the adrenaline coursing through his veins and butterflies in his stomach, he didn't want to entertain any negative thoughts.

Pran was ready to dive headfirst into uncertain territory for the first time in his life. The little box of cookies in his hands, that he had spent all day yesterday baking to perfection, pushed him forward. He knew Pat must be in the music room helping to put the drum kit back after their performance. Deciding to wait in the hallway for the others to leave, he tried to look nonchalant even though his fingers were fidgeting with the ribbon on the cookie box. He went over the confession in his head one last time. Pat, do you remember when we wrote the song together on that picnic bench, and I asked you if you have a secret crush on anyone? The song I.. We ended up writing is about my secret crush. It was for you Pat. I like you. Yes, he was going to stop hesitating and go for it this time.

Except he froze before his hand reached the closed door.

"Did you like my performance?" Pat's voice. But who was he talking to? Pran had made sure that all the other students had cleared out from the music room before he moved forward.
"Of course I did. The song was really amazing. Who wrote it?" Oh. He had forgotten about one person. Ink.
"Pran and I did it together. It turned out pretty good."
"Wow. You guys did a great job. I loved it"
"Just the song?" Pran could imagine Pat's eyebrows dancing while asking this.

Pran could still hear Pat and Ink's laughter as he turned around, desperately trying to tune out everything around him. His legs were already taking him out of the corridor before he could even form a single thought. He should have known. He knew. He just didn't want to acknowledge it, hiding behind his delusions for as long as he could. Pat liked Ink. The way he was always flirting with her, looking for ways to stay close to her, trying to make her laugh was more than enough evidence of Pat's interest in her. Pran had seen them having lunch together multiple times a week, even exchanging gifts and trinkets. Maybe Ink liked him too. He didn't know. How could he when he tried to avoid her at every given chance. Ink was an amazing girl. Pran knew this too. He had no reason to dislike her except the foolish jealousy bubbling inside his stomach every time he saw her and Pat getting closer.

But all he could think about right then was the numbing pain pricking somewhere inside his chest. He just wanted to go home, lay in his bed, hide under the blanket and cry his heart out. If only it was that easy. As he was getting ready for bed that night his window was yanked open by the same person he had been trying to hide from all day. Pran stood rooted at the spot just staring at him. Pat looked happy, giddy even. Had he confessed to Ink? Was he there to tell Pran that Ink returned his feelings as well? Pran must have made some noise at that thought because the next moment, Pat's hand was covering his mouth asking him to stay quiet. Pran had to stay quiet. He could never let his feelings fall out of his treacherous mouth. But he also needed Pat to be quiet as well. His heart couldn't take it if he was there to tell Pran about his successful love life.

Steeling himself, Pran swatted his hand off his mouth and pushed him back with a shove to the chest. Pat seemed taken aback by the sudden hostility but, before he could say a word about it, Pran was turning his back to him, hands balled into tight fists by his side.
"Get out." He was trying to keep his voice devoid of any emotion.
"Pran?" Pat stepped forward, sounding concerned.
No. Pran didn't need his concern. Pran didn't need him here right now, not when the pricking in his eyes was threatening to betray him any second. "I said get out Pat!"
Pat was never one to give up easily. He stepped around, coming to stand in front of Pran and held Pran's Shoulders with both hands to keep him in place. Pat's brows were furrowed and his eyes seemed to ask a hundred questions. Pran didn't have an answer to a single one of them, so he lowered his head to avoid Pat's gaze. He hated being vulnerable. But it was Pat who was looking at him. Pat who, he was sure, could see through his walls and look at the real Pran who was drowning in despair right now.

"Pran, are you okay?" There was so much care in those words that Pran couldn't control the tears as they started rolling down his cheeks. Pat's hands shifted from his shoulders to his face in an instant, wiping the tears with his thumbs, caressing his cheeks lightly. Why was Pat so caring? Why couldn't he be an asshole? At least then Pran could get over his stupid crush on him. He opened his mouth to tell Pat that he was okay but his breath hitched with a sob instead and the next moment Pat's arms were wrapped around him crushing him to his chest. Pran used all of his willpower to keep his hands at his side when all he wanted was to desperately wrap his arms around Pat and keep him there forever. Giving himself just a tiny bit of liberty, Pran hid his face in the other's shoulder and waited for the tears to stop.

Pat gave him some time to calm down, lightly patting his back, before he tried to speak again, "What's wrong? You know you can talk to me, right? We're friends." The word 'Friend' stung Pran more than he would like to admit. It felt like a consolation prize, a participation certificate when all Pran wanted was to win. He already felt pathetic, crying on the shoulder of the same person who was the reason for his tears. "We're not friends Pat." He said, freeing himself from the other's arms. "And I'm okay. Just leave me alone." Pran said as he moved to stand beside the window, wiping his tears away, indicating for Pat to leave. He tried not to look at Pat's crestfallen face as he climbed out of the window. He had successfully ruined both of their moods and was exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally. He just wanted to lay down and forget all about the day.