PRAN X PAT

Ch.1

Pat stood at the edge of the old park, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, eyes fixated on the crumbling concrete path where he and Pran had once walked, argued, and laughed. “I thought we were different,” Pat muttered to himself, fighting back a wave of memories flooding in like a tide. “I really thought it would last.”

Just then, Pran appeared, hesitant at first, as if he were afraid that stepping onto the path would disturb something sacred—something already lost. “I know it’s been a while,” he said softly, kicking at a pebble, his own hands deep in his pockets. “But it feels strange to just...not talk.”

“That’s what we planned, right? No talking, no drama. Just...move on,” Pat replied, trying to sound indifferent but failing. The truth was, not talking was carving a hole in his heart, one that felt more intimidating than any argument they had.

Pran shifted uneasily. “Well, here we are. Same park, same old memories. They say time heals, but—” He paused, searching for the right words. “But does it ever really?”

“It doesn’t heal,” Pat said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It just numbs the pain a little. Maybe that’s why we needed to walk away.” He looked at Pran, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You know, I thought we could get through it—everything. The fighting, the nights filled with silence, the weird staged reconciliations. I thought we could fix it.”

Pran’s expression darkened. “I did too. But at some point, it felt like we were just playing a game, you know? Like...we were two players who had lost sight of the prize.”

Pat chuckled bitterly. “It was a beautiful mess, wasn’t it? Enemies to lovers to...whatever this is.”

“I think it’s more like strangers trying to avoid the wreckage.” Pran sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair, a familiar gesture that tugged at Pat’s heart. “I miss your laugh, you know? Even when you were being all serious and brooding, there was this spark. This electricity.”

“Yeah?” Pat replied, surprised that Pran would bring it up. “I miss teasing you. I miss the way you’d roll your eyes at my stupid jokes and then end up laughing anyway. I miss us—”

Pran stepped closer, bridging the painful distance between them. “Us? Or the idea of us?”

“Does it matter?” Pat swallowed hard. “We were real, weren’t we? Even the fights felt real. The tears...the reconciliation made it all worth it.” He took a step closer, heart racing. “I don’t want to be strangers, Pran. I don’t want to just walk away like it all meant nothing.”

Pran’s gaze softened, a flicker of hope igniting in his eyes. “So what do we do?”

“Maybe we start over?” Pat suggested, a tremor in his voice. “Not as lovers, not even as friends, just...two people trying to figure it all out without the weight of expectations. I don’t want us to be a chapter in the story that was never meant to be. I want us to write a new one.”

Pran’s expression brightened. “You mean it? No more labels, no more pressure?”

“Just us,” Pat affirmed, smiling when he saw the tension ease from Pran's shoulders. “Two guys stumbling through life. After all, who knows what might follow?”

“Perhaps a second act?” Pran winked, an echo of their playful banter surfacing.

“Or possibly a generational saga,” Pat added with a chuckle as they both moved forward, walking side by side along the familiar path once again.

As they strolled, the invisible chains binding them to their past began to weaken, and maybe, just maybe, they could forge a new beginning from the ashes of what once was.