Autumn is a second spring

157. Pancakes

Boun stayed on his knees, palms pressed flat against the floor, his head bowed so low his forehead nearly touched the tiles. His shoulders trembled as he spoke, every word scraped raw from his chest.

"I am sorry," he said again, voice hoarse. "I really am. I... I thought the proposal was part of the script. That was the last thing I expected to happen on the live."

Prem turned slowly.

The movement was controlled, deliberate, but the moment his eyes landed on Boun, something sharp and wounded flickered across his face.

"Not everyone has the habit of fake-proposing to people, Hia," Prem said coldly. 

"I just wasn't expecting it, Pao. Especially when we hadn't even been talking properly for days. Should I have thought something like that just... comes out of nowhere?"

Prem cut him off.

"And don't twist it, Hia" Prem continued, his voice rising. "The one who stopped talking wasn't me. It was you. I came back to stay with you—yes, even if it was for Bew—but you were the one who kept your distance."

His voice cracked.

Tears spilled down Prem's face, unchecked and furious. "Congratulations," he said bitterly. "You managed to make me feel like dirt again once again."

Boun flinched.

Prem laughed hollowly. "I made such a fuss about breaking up, walked away like I had some dignity, and then I came crawling back to you. And you didn't even care when we broke up. You didn't try to stop me. You didn't ask me to stay." His chest heaved. "I don't even know why I came back."

The words hit Boun like blunt force.

He looked up, eyes red and glossy, pain written openly across his face. "I didn't try to stop you because of you," he said softly. "Because you told me you didn't want to be with me anymore."

Prem scoffed, but Boun didn't stop.

"The one who is equal to dirt in this relationship isn't you, Pao," Boun continued, his voice trembling harder now. "It's me."

He let out a broken laugh through his tears. "From the first day I was with you, I knew you deserved someone better. And ever since then, I have been trying—desperately—to become that better person."

He swallowed, throat burning.

"Before you came into my life, I was just... existing," Boun said quietly. "Living for the sake of being alive. I was a coward who couldn't even go through with dying after failing so many times to kill myself." His fingers dug into the floor. "I lived like someone who didn't care if he died the next second."

Prem froze.

Boun lifted his head fully now, eyes shining with pain and sincerity. "But everything changed when you came into my life. I wanted to live properly. I wanted to be better. Worthy of you."

His voice broke completely.

"But everyone," he whispered. "Everyone—my family, my friends, even strangers—always said the same thing. That you were too good for me. And I knew it too."

He looked at Prem, eyes searching. "What I didn't understand was why you felt insecure with me. You weren't the mess in this relationship. I was."

Prem's jaw tightened.

"You say I never acknowledged your insecurities," Boun went on, shaking his head. "But I never understood what could possibly make you insecure. To me, you were perfect. Your looks. Your talent. You built everything yourself. You are nothing like me—someone born with a silver spoon, some who had everything served in front of him in a silver platter and still messed everything up."

He laughed again, bitter and self-mocking. "You even got us those rings. You proposed to me in front of the whole world. And what did I do?"

He lifted his empty hands helplessly. "Nothing."

Boun's voice dropped to a whisper. "What do I have that makes me worthy of asking you to come back? Should I just be selfish and ask you to stay when I have nothing to offer you?"

That was when Prem snapped.

With a choked cry, he surged forward and grabbed Boun by the collar with both hands, yanking him up just enough to force their eyes to meet.

"You idiot," Prem shouted, tears streaming down his face in rage. "Do you think I asked you to marry me to gain something?"

His grip tightened. "I asked you because I love you."

"But that was not what you," Boun stared at Prem with teary eyes. "You said that you lost your feelings for me, your love for me, staring right into my eyes. What else was I supposed to do?"

Before Prem could respond, a sharp knock sounded on the door.

Both of them froze.

Prem released Boun instantly. They wiped at their faces hastily, scrambling to stand, trying—and failing—to look normal.

The door opened.

Fluke stepped inside.

He took one look at the two of them—tear-streaked faces, red eyes, the air thick with tension—and quietly closed the door behind him. Then he locked it.

Prem inhaled sharply. "Fluke—"

Fluke lifted a hand, silencing him.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the door, his expression unusually serious. "I told myself I wouldn't interfere in your relationship," he said evenly. "Looks like I made the wrong call."

The room fell silent.

"This," Fluke continued, eyes moving between them, "is not how I imagined the proposal would go. I thought you would both be happy. What I am seeing now is the opposite."

Neither Boun nor Prem dared to look at him.

"I know I don't know the full story," Fluke said after a moment. "And I know I am not really in a position to lecture either of you. Especially after you just announced your engagement to the whole world."

He sighed. "But I do know this—you both love each other like crazy. You care about each other more than anything. That's the only reason I am speaking right now."

Fluke turned to Prem first.

"The one thing I have never liked about you," he said bluntly, "is how impulsive you are."

Prem stiffened.

"Spontaneity can be good," Fluke went on. "But when it comes to big decisions—relationships, marriage—it's a disaster waiting to happen. One day you want to break up. The next day you are asking him to marry you."

He tilted his head. "Do you think relationships are as easy as flipping a pancake?"

Prem clenched his fists.

"You had a genuine reason for wanting to break up," Fluke said firmly. "And until today, neither of you has actually fixed that problem or even sat down properly to analyze it. So tell me—why rush a proposal?"

Prem's voice came out strained. "What else was I supposed to do? Lie to everyone and say everything between us was fake?"

"You should have told P' Ton you weren't okay with the plan," Fluke shot back. "Instead, you went rogue, changed the script, and proposed on camera."

His gaze sharpened. "What would you have done if P' Boun said no?"

Prem lowered his eyes. "...I knew he wouldn't. I know he loves me."

Fluke let out a humorless chuckle. "Oh, wow! Now you know he loves you."

The words cut deep.

"Where was that confidence a few days ago?" Fluke pressed. "When you were crying your eyes out and asking for a breakup?"

Prem said nothing.

The silence spoke louder than any answer.

Fluke finally turned toward Boun.

Boun swallowed hard, his heart pounding, bracing himself for what was coming next.