Rating:

Mature

Category:

Poly

Fandom:

Bad Buddy

Relationship:

Pat/Pran/Korn/Wai

Tags:

bad buddy exchange, bad buddy exchange 2023, canon divergent, coffee shop, flirting, miscommunication, pining, sharing a bed, sleepovers

Stats:

Posted on:

2023-05-11

Words:

12,258

Pran’s got a furrow between his eyebrows. One quick look is all Wai needs to know that he left his earbuds at home again, as is his habit. Wai should probably start texting him reminders every morning, just because he can never be too safe. He’s mentioned that to Pran before, to which Pran said that he’d be fine, he doesn’t need it—which had been a relief to Wai since he’s not that great at remembering things every day either. But still, it’s the thought that counts.

And Wai’s pretty sure it’s not the bustle of the coffee shop that’s ruining Pran’s concentration, but the loud coffee grinder that Chompoo is humming merrily at as she grinds more coffee beans. “Chompoo,” Wai says loudly, and when she doesn’t hear him the first time, louder, “Chompoo!”

She stops. “What?”

“Thank you,” Wai mumbles, and turns back to the cash register.

Behind him, Chompoo says, “Did something stop you from asking nicely?”

Wai ignores her. The line between Pran’s eyebrows is gone, and he goes back to scribbling whatever he’d been scribbling—a draft for their Visual Representation class, probably. He tends to start homework early and always pushes Wai to join him, something that Wai has been resisting since boarding school. It’s usually easier when Pran’s done and Wai can ask him for help, anyway.

The door to the cafe opens, as it often does during this time of day. Afternoon Wednesday shifts are the worst, because that’s when most of the engineering classes let out, and Wai has to deal with their obnoxious asses while pretending he doesn’t want to punch them in the face. He’s gotten quite good at it, but that doesn’t make them any more tolerable. At least Pran’s already decided to come whenever he doesn’t have classes and not too late into the evening, so Wai can spare at least some of his sanity.

Unfortunately, today’s no different as a queue quickly forms at the cash register, filled with engineering students looking to ruin his day. A pair of boys stand out to him in particular, donned in their navy blue uniform and squawking at each other like they have no consideration for the rest of the shop—”She was totally flirting with you, Pat!” “Flirting with who? She was cute but she was flirting with you way more!” “Aww, are you saying you think I’m hot?” “More like cute, look at that ponytail!” “Ai’Pat, you suck!”—and the most obnoxious laughter coming from two of the loudest people Wai has ever heard in his life.

Dread fills his stomach as he takes the orders for the next customers, and as these two boys get closer and closer to the front of the queue. He turns back to look at Chompoo pleadingly, but she raises her eyebrows and cocks her head at them, as if to say, What? I’m not doing your job.

Wai sighs.

“Good afternoon,” he says once the two engineering boys are at the front, in his most I’m-pretending-to-be-energetic-because-that’s-part-of-my-job-but-don’t-expect-any-more-from-me voice. “How can I take your order?”

“Hmm,” says one—the one with the topknot, as they both have similar looking black school bags as well. Do these guys match on everything? “I can’t decide, you go first,” he says to his friend.

His friend looks over the menu. Wai knows it’s not appropriate to sigh impatiently while customers decide their order, especially since he’s no better—but he’s tempted to anyway.

“One iced tea,” says the one without the topknot. “Less sweet.”

His friend laughs. “Why’d you read the menu even though you always order the same thing everywhere we go?”

The other one elbows him. “In case they had something better! Or more interesting.”

“You always make me order the interesting things,” says his friend, but he doesn’t sound like he’s complaining.

Wai wants to deck them both.

He also wants to ask the one with the topknot what he wants so they can move out of the way already, but he bites his tongue and his silent pleas get answered anyway. “I’ll have the, uhh,” the other friend says. “Mocha, iced please.” He smiles with all his teeth to Wai. Wai’s tempted to tell him he’s an architecture student so they’ll leave him alone. “Whipped cream on top. Extra if you can spare it.”

“Sure,” says Wai, and doesn’t add the whipped cream in his order. Then he thinks about it and, yeah, this guy does seem like the type to complain if it was forgotten, and he doesn’t want to deal with interacting with him again. So he adds the whipped cream, but reluctantly.

“Thank you!” topknot boy chirps, and the other one smiles at him briefly in thanks, too. Wai tries not to blink as he puts the orders in and reiterates them to Chompoo and Phet.

He doesn’t intend to watch the two engineering boys as they find a place to sit—but one says something to the other and then suddenly they’re walking in Pran’s direction. Pran, who hates being woken up when he’s sleeping and hates being interrupted when he’s studying. Wai hopes with all his heart that they’re going to walk past him, not stop anywhere near him, and especially not at his table—

One of them (the one without the topknot) slides into the chair across from Pran and takes his laptop from him.

Wai’s one second from leaping over the counter and defending his friend—really, of all people they choose to bully and it’s his best friend who’s not even wearing his Architecture uniform?—when Chompoo clears her throat behind him. “Wai, you have a customer,” she reminds him.

Wai turns back to see a stern looking man with his arms crossed scowling at him. Wai chuckles sheepishly.

“Good afternoon,” he greets, like he wasn’t about to maul two engineering students in broad daylight.

He focuses on his job, but he desperately, desperately wants to watch and at least make sure Pran’s okay. Pran can handle himself, sure—he’s the one who helped Wai with all those fights at school after all. Pran the Warrior, Wai and their old classmates used to call him, even though Pran doesn’t even like violence and berated Wai for how often he got into fights at the time. Wai’s not that bad anymore, but one of their new Architecture friends Louis is, so it’s not like Pran is rusty either. But as long as they stay in the coffee shop, then at least none of them will have to resort to violence, and he can cut them down with his words instead.

Eventually the crowd of the queue disappears and Wai can turn his attention on his best friend again—his best friend who’s still sitting with these two Engineering students for some reason. Plus, the one with the topknot is inching closer and closer to Pran like he’s about to sit in his lap. At least his friend looks kind of uneasy with it. He hasn’t returned Pran’s laptop yet though, Wai notes.

“So you’re gay,” topknot boy says, which, what? How much did Wai even miss that they got that out of Pran, when it took until high school graduation for Pran to admit it out loud to Wai? “Well, you are pretty cute for a guy. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Pran looks at the other boy, who at least seems a bit embarrassed at his friend. “Is this what you guys do every day on campus?”

“Only if Korn finds you cute,” says the friend.

Pran raises his eyebrows at him. “Do you find me cute?”

The correct answer is yes—Wai has known Pran was cute the first time he walked into their sophomore English class for the first time, halfway through the semester as a new transfer student, and barely mumbled a hi. Wai almost seethes when the friend shrugs and looks away and says, “Doesn’t matter, I just know I’m hotter.”

Pran scoffs. “You guys are idiots,” he says.

The one with the topknot—Korn—just takes a loud slurp of his drink, even though it’s nearly down to the ice. “But cute idiots, right?” he says. “I called you cute, you can call me cute too.”

“And me,” says the other one.

“You’re both ugly,” Pran says, and Wai wants to fist pump with victory. “And annoying. Go away; unlike Engineering students, I actually need to study.”

“Fine, fine,” says the other one, and gets up from his chair with a loud scrape. Wai winces from behind the counter as Pran does the same. “Let’s go, Korn.” Then, as he picks up his bag, adds, “See you around, Pran.”

Pran rolls his eyes and doesn’t respond as the two boys leave the shop.

As soon as they’re gone, Wai hops out from behind the counter—his boss likes Pran so chatting with him briefly on his shift is okay—and slides into the previously occupied chair.

“Those guys were so annoying,” Wai laments. “Good thing you told them to fuck off.”

Pran shrugs but there’s a small, pleased smile at the corner of his mouth. “Sure,” he says.

“Why’d you tell them your name though?” Wai asks. “And that you’re gay? I heard that part.”

“Oh.” Pran bites his lip in embarrassment. “Well, they tried to talk to me about cute girls. So I decided to tell them.”

“Why were they trying to talk to you about girls?”

Pran crinkles his nose. “Who knows? I’m not responsible for their stupidity,” he says, and goes back to his notebook.

“Good point.” Wai leans back and huffs. “Well, I’m glad you told them off. They were being stupid to me in line, too.”

“I bet,” Pran mumbles, clicking his mechanical pencil.

That’s a sign that he’s going back into study mode, which means Wai should also get out of there before he gets walled out. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says, returning to his post.

He gets a “mm” in response, which in Pran language, is practically a song of gratitude. Somehow, Wai supposes, telling those Engineering students off put Pran in a good mood. That’s good enough for Wai.

):)

Even having someone as anal-retentive as Pran for a best friend doesn’t stop Wai from memorizing all of his habits and preferences, down to the number of dumplings in his noodle order. “You didn’t have to pay,” Pran says as they’re walking back to his apartment several days later, Pran carrying their bag of takeout.

“Oh, shut up,” Wai says. “You’re carrying it for me anyway.”

“Because you’re on the rugby team.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Pran rolls his eyes. “You get into enough trouble with fights as it is, you can’t fuck up your wrist and risk your rugby scholarship.”

“For the last time,” Wai says, as they stop and Pran pulls out his keys to unlock his door. “That was Louis’s fight, I was just backing him up.”

“Sure, sure,” Pran says.

He glances behind Wai for a moment as they go in, at the neighbor across from him. Probably worried about being too loud and getting noise complaints.

They do this every so often, keeping up their tradition from boarding school—even though they were never roommates, they still tried to do a sleepover at least once every couple of weeks, since Wai was the one who first brought Pran out of his transfer student shell and they quickly bonded over comics and games from there. Tonight’s no different, eating takeout on Pran’s couch and then playing video games on his bedroom floor, wrestling over the better controller and then doing a co-op game and beating some computer-controlled enemies together instead. For all that Pran studies, his working at his parents’ shop over the past few summers has at least given him enough money to buy plenty of video games, some of which are Wai’s favorites.

They get to a racing game, which makes Pran sigh. “I suck at these,” he says. “Can we go to sleep already?”

“Tired of losing?” Wai challenges; he’s in first, while Pran’s already given up in last place.

He doesn’t need to see Pran to know he’s giving him a look. “Yes.”

“Not my fault you’re a sore loser, my friend,” Wai says, just as his character crosses the finish line. “First place, baby! Again!”

“Congratulations,” Pran says. “Go take a shower.”

“What’s that smell? I think it’s my friend being so sour.” Wai waves his hand in front of his nose.

Pran pushes him, but he’s laughing. “No, it’s your smelly ass that I don’t want stinking up my bed,” he says.

Wai’s actually pretty sure they could both fit in Pran’s bed, he realizes as he gets out of the bathroom. It’s bigger than the ones at boarding school, and they didn’t have couches in their dorms so half the time they’d end up in the same bed anyway. Still, Pran being Pran, he insists that Wai take the bed while he takes the duvet on the couch, and Wai’s not going to object to sleeping well.

“You better not play video games in there,” Pran says as they say goodnight. Pran’s got the duvet wrapped around his body and he looks so soft from here. “We have early morning classes tomorrow.”

“If I do, it’s your fault for giving me the idea,” Wai replies.

He doesn’t, though, passing out almost immediately on Pran’s full-sized bed. It’s still dark when he feels something shuffle into bed next to him, and a warm body covered by a duvet slides against his own.

In the dark, Pran’s soft voice goes, “Wai, is this okay?”

“Mrhfm,” Wai says, because he’s half asleep still and his subconscious wants to stay in his dream of telling engineering boys how much they suck. It’s just like boarding school anyway, climbing into bed with Pran in the dark, their bodies pressed together and whispering secrets to each other, things that they don’t feel as safe admitting when they can see each other’s faces.

It’s just like boarding school, the way Pran’s breath is in his ear, comforting enough for Wai to nearly fall asleep again. “‘S fine,” he mumbles, and briefly feels fifteen again when Pran whispers, “Cool,” next to him, and it’s the last thing Wai hears before he slips back to sleep.

):)

Wai likes team sports and taking pride in his faculty; if someone asked, he’d probably go as far as admitting that he likes the Architecture-Engineering rivalry. Not just because (as he’s already seen) the Engineering students are annoying and have no sense of decorum because they don’t value peace and quiet for using your brain for creativity. But because it’s an easy sense of belonging—because Wai can feel like he’s contributing just by existing. It’d been hard, in primary and secondary school, to feel like he was worth anything when his grades were mediocre and his family didn’t have enough money to buy him fancy toys to show off to his classmates. But joining sports teams, even if he wasn’t the best, still made him realize there was value in numbers, and his inclusion could only help, not hinder, so it was always in his best interest to commit and make his presence as worthwhile as it could possibly be.

And so when the Engineering boys from before trot into the coffee shop the next day, Wai sighs and mutters to himself, “Not fucking again.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Chompoo scolds him. “What are they gonna do to us? We’re not even wearing our faculty uniforms.”

“It’s the principle of it,” Wai grumbles. He seriously considers taking out his Architecture uniform from his bag anyway. Maybe if the Engineering kids saw, they’d leave.

At least they don’t seem to notice Pran this time, because he’s wearing his uniform. Wai feels a bit vindictive for that, until the two Engineering students saunter up to the counter and topknot boy says, “One caffe latte please.”

Not even giving Wai time to greet him. It’s like Engineering students haven’t heard of manners a day in his life.

“And the name’s Korn,” the guy adds—even though their names get automatically added with their credit cards. Wai bites back from saying, I didn’t ask, and puts the order in.

“Anything else?” he grumbles, glancing at Korn’s friend.

At this, the friend raises his eyebrows at Wai. “Yeah,” he says. “Iced milk tea, less sweet. Please.” He tacks on the please like it had been an afterthought, making Wai unable to hold back a snort.

“Yeah, okay,” Wai says, putting in the order.

At the same time, Korn says to his friend, “Thank you, sugar daddy Pat.”

“We came because you were begging me to buy you a drink, weren’t you?”

“I’m so glad to have such a generous sugar daddy~~”

Wai wants to kick them out, but at least they leave the counter immediately after they pay. They’re a bit short staffed today, so he turns to help grab the ice for their drinks, pouring it into plastic cups. He doesn’t understand how Engineering students work, and he doesn’t want to.

When he turns back around, his eyes immediately find Pran—and the two boys, who’ve opted to sit with him again.

Wai seethes. Don’t they see Pran’s Architecture uniform, a clear sign that Engineering students aren’t welcome? Plus, Pran told them off the last time they bothered him—are they really so rude that they’d try again? Or maybe they’re just dense and didn’t realize it. Wai wouldn’t put it past them. He glares daggers in their direction, even though at least that Korn guy’s back is turned so it’s not like he’d see him. If his friend—Pat—notices Wai at all, he doesn’t make it evident.

Wai wants to mess with their drinks, but he knows that’s a quick way to a complaint and then to get written up and then before he knows it he’ll end up looking for a job again. So Wai plays nice and makes sure their drinks are made to perfection, even adding whipped cream to Korn’s, if only to prove to himself that he won’t lash out. Ice calls their names when the drinks are done, and Wai notices that only Korn gets up to get their drinks while Pat stays sitting with Pran. Wai just wants him to fuck off and leave his friend alone. Pran’s back is turned to him too, but he’s been hunched over his studying the whole time, like he’s been trying to ignore both Engineering boys while they harassed him. Good. They better leave him alone.

Korn goes back with their drinks, and Wai can hear from here—”Aww, they added whipped cream even when I didn’t ask for it!” He slurps from it, giving himself a little line of whipped cream over his upper lip. Wai’s fingers twitch.

“I don’t think you ordered it iced either,” Pat says, taking his own drink from him.

“What? Pretty sure I did,” Korn says. “How many times have you ever seen me order a hot drink?”

“And how many times have you accidentally gotten a hot drink because you didn’t say you wanted it iced?”

Pran says something that Wai can’t hear from here, but the two Engineering boys glance down at him before promptly ignoring him.

“Well, whatever, good thing they make it iced by default then,” Korn says, and slurps more of his drink. Wai looks at the order history—he hadn’t written down that Korn had wanted it iced, he realizes. He’s pretty sure the first drink he’d ordered, he’d requested it specifically. Well, whatever, that’s Wai’s good deed for Engineering students out of the way this week, he thinks mutinously, wishing he had made it hot instead.

He knows he should stop eavesdropping, but seeing Pran surrounded by Engineering students keeps him on high alert, so he doesn’t miss it this time when Pran says, “Don’t you guys have classes?”

“Done for the day,” Pat says to him cheerfully, and slurps his own drink. “Now we have all the time in the world to study with our favorite Architecture student.”

It has to be a taunt, there’s no way otherwise.

Wai turns to Ice. “Can we ban—”

“No,” she says, before he finishes asking. He sighs.

Back at the table, Pran says, “I don’t believe I invited you guys to study with me. Aren’t you afraid of how it’ll look?”

Korn says, “Ooh, you take the faculty rivalry seriously, don’t you?”

His friend laughs at him. “So do you,” says Pat.

Korn says something in response, but at that moment Chompoo turns the coffee grinder on, so Wai can’t hear him.

When the cafe is blissfully quieter again, and as Wai continues taking orders and pretending he’s not eavesdropping, he hears Pat say, “Well, I take rivalries seriously too.” He’s looking at Pran intently, and Wai’s seconds away from texting Safe and Louis for backup.

But to his surprise, at that moment Korn wraps an arm around Pran’s shoulders and says, “What, we can be friends, right?”

“I don’t know,” Pat says, more to Pran than anyone else. “Can we?”

“Well, you guys are the class presidents of the faculties,” Korn says, and Wai’s brain halts for a minute because Pat is the guy his facultymates have been talking about? The Engineering freshman that somehow got elected faculty president (yes, Pran’s a freshman too but he has the work ethic to deserve it) that all of Wai’s seniors are scared of? Sure, Pat looks big and strong, but he’s also a pussy if he’s run into Pran twice, knows at this point that Pran is an Architecture student, and doesn’t mess with him in any way. Wai scoffs to himself. What a joke.

It takes him a moment to hear Korn continue: “…so it could be good for everyone if everyone sees you two hanging out! Professor Pichai wants the rivalry to stop, anyway.”

“Yeah, because you won’t stop fighting Architecture students once a week,” Pat points out.

Korn grins cheekily. “What can I say? They can get cute when they’re riled up.”

Pran asks Pat, “Why does your friend flirt with everything that moves?”

Korn wiggles his eyebrows at him. “If you show me moves I can flirt with you too.”

Wai feels like he’s having an aneurysm. What is going on? The conversation is going in a vastly different direction than he expected, and Pran’s just sitting there, taking it, instead of telling them to screw off. Maybe he likes the attention? But he’d seemed kind of uncomfortable when girls—and guys!—hit on him in high school. Why should these two random, obnoxious Engineering boys be any different?

At least he doesn’t seem that bothered, even though that just bothers Wai. He and Pran tell each other everything, there’s no secrets between them, and Wai has always prided himself in being able to read Pran like a book when no one else can. Suddenly it’s like Pran has been replaced by someone who doesn’t care about the faculty, or Wai’s sanity.

“You look troubled,” Ice observes from behind him.

“I am!”

“They have counselors for that,” Chompoo supplies.

But Wai doesn’t need a counselor. He just needs to find what the fuck is up with his best friend.

):)

“What the fuck is up with my best friend?” Wai asks when his shift is over, slamming his apron down on Pran’s table.

Pran looks up from his studies in surprise. “Oh, it’s six already,” he says. “No wonder I’m starving.”

“Pran,” Wai says.

Korn and Pat had left Pran a while ago; even though they’d suggested (threatened) it, they actually hadn’t studied or spent too much time with Pran much longer after getting their drinks, giving Pran the peace and quiet he deserved.

But still—”I’ve never seen you that nice to an Engineering student before,” Wai says.

“Yeah, that’s because I actually avoid them, unlike you guys,” Pran points out.

And. Well, he’s right, since Wai knows that he and Louis are more prone to provoking Engineering students while they’re on campus. “They were flirting with you though,” he says to Pran.

Pran shrugs, though his gaze looks dodgy. “So?”

“What do you mean, ‘so?’ Just because they’re cute doesn’t mean—”

Pran interrupts, “You think they’re cute?” His face breaks out into a grin. Wai wants to hit him. And himself.

“Of course I don’t!” he says a bit too loudly. Ice and Golf, from where they’re exchanging shifts, glance at him.

“Do you think they’re both cute?” Pran asks with a smirk, leaning on his elbows to get closer. “Which one do you think is hotter?”

“Neither of them!” Wai splutters indignantly. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to put up with their annoying asses even if you find them attractive.”

“Uh huh.” Pran doesn’t sound convinced, and now Wai knows that if he ever brings them up again, Pran’s just gonna bother him about finding them cute. Which he doesn’t. It was just because Korn kept saying that to Pran—which is true, that Pran’s cute—and he had that little whipped cream on his mouth that Pat rubbed off for him with his thumb earlier and if they were anyone else it could’ve been a cute gesture. But because it was them, it was just dumb and annoying.

Pran leans back in his chair. “Anyway, I’m not gonna misbehave in public. I actually care about our faculty having a respectable reputation.”

“Fine,” Wai grumbles, even though he’s not happy about it.

“And you shouldn’t be worried about me anyway,” Pran continues. He gets up to start putting his things in his bag. “You know I can handle myself, and you should be focusing on your job instead.”

“Being friends with you is like having a boss and a mother all the time,” Wai complains. He packs up Pran’s earbuds and hands them to him. Pran slides them into his pocket. “Why do I put up with you?”

“I think you should be asking me why I put up with you,” Pran teases, and gets up from his chair. “C’mon. What should we do for dinner?”

):)

Things don’t get better from there. It’s not like those Engineering boys come every day Wai’s working—they next stop by a week later, when Wai is behind the counter and Pran is studying again, the Pat guy ordering the same thing and the Korn guy ordering something different before going to harangue his best friend once more. Korn forgets to order his drink cold again, and Wai seriously considers making it hot, before realizing that that would probably mean Korn would come back over and order his drink again, and the less time Wai has to talk to his ugly mug the better, so he ices it without complaint. If he adds whipped cream without Korn asking for it either, well. At least then Korn will think it’s good service and come back and the cafe can keep taking his money.

His friend, on the other hand. Pat. While Korn takes more of the flirty and joking angle, Pat actually talks to Pran, sometimes even touching his dimples and smiling at Pran like he knows him. And that just pisses Wai off even more, because Pat doesn’t, not as friends, and certainly not in the way that Wai does. Flirting is whatever; even if Pran thinks they’re cute, it’s also whatever. Pran has eyes. Wai can’t fault him. But this random engineering boy can’t just stride into Pran’s life and look at him like that, like he’s trying to take Wai’s best friend from him under his nose.

Pran has a club meeting today, so unfortunately Wai’s at work alone, cleaning the counter bar on an early Friday afternoon since the cafe’s so empty, since most students would favor bars over coffee shops at this point in the week. Wai wishes he were one of them, but he really needs the money to make this month’s rent.

He’s deliberating whether to try to sneak onto his phone to play RoV in case Chompoo comes back from her break decides to tattle on him, when the door to the shop opens. To his displeasure, the two Engineering boys—Korn and Pat, his brain unhelpfully supplies—amble in.

“Wow, it’s dead in here,” Korn observes.

Pat looks a little disappointed by something, but says, “I’ll find us a seat, yeah?” He pulls out his phone and starts tapping something, walking towards a table.

Korn pouts at him. “What happened to my sugar daddy?”

“I know you took my wallet while we were walking,” Pat says. “Those magic classes did not pay off.”

Korn shrugs. “Had to try,” he says, before meandering up to the counter, where Wai is doing his best to look like he’s not glowering at their mere presence being less than thirty feet away from him. Korn smiles at him nonetheless.

“It’s like you’re always my cashier here,” he says to Wai.

Wai bites out, “I work here six days a week.”

“Well, that explains it,” Korn says.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and finally Wai’s temper gets to him as he says, “Well, are you gonna order or just stand there?”

Korn blinks at him, taken aback. Good. “Okay man, I’m just trying to be friendly,” he says defensively. “What’s your problem?”

“Mine?” Wai could list a number of things, starting with how loudly Korn drinks down to the stupid navy shirt on Korn’s back. “You’re the one flirting with my friend every time you walk in here.”

Realization dawns on Korn’s face. “Oh,” he says. Then he smirks. “Are you N’Pran’s friend?”

“Don’t call him that,” Wai replies automatically. “And yeah, I’m his best friend. So if you wanna mess with him, then you’ve also gotta mess with me too.”

“Well,” Korn says, then stops and seems to change his mind. “Let me order first. Since apparently your time is so precious.”

His words are cutting but his tone isn’t, which makes Wai want to hit him across the face even more. How condescending can a guy be? Wai tells himself that he will make Korn’s drink hot today, whether he remembers to mention the ice or not.

After Korn’s done ordering (iced milk tea less sweet for Pat, caramel macchiato extra sweet for Korn), he leans his elbow on the counter and grins at Wai. Wai wishes desperately for another customer to come in so he has an excuse to properly ignore Korn.

“So,” Korn says. “Are you an Architecture student like khun Pran, too?”

Wai glares at him. “Yes.”

“You Architecture guys sure are unfriendly, aren’t you?”

Wai sneers. “When bonehead Engineering students don’t stop bothering us, what else are we supposed to do?”

“Have you ever had a drink?”

Wai snorts. “Of course.”

“Awesome.” Korn grins. Wai looks away so he doesn’t have to see how his smile makes the corner of his eyes crinkle, sparkling as it’s directed at Wai. “Watch T1?”

“Duh.”

“Nice!” says Korn, as Wai automatically scoops ice into his cup. “What’s your team?”

“Buriram.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Korn says, but he’s laughing. Wai just holds his cup and stares at him. “My team’s Muangthong. Guess we can’t be friends.”

Wai stares at him some more, then remembers he’s supposed to be making their drinks since Chompoo’s still on break in the back. “Of course we can’t,” he mutters, getting the syrup for Korn’s drink.

“Still, that could make a fun night out together,” Korn says, leaning over the counter. “Rooting for different teams and drinking.”

Wai hates to admit it but it does sound fun—the few times he and Pran have gotten drunk they usually just play video games and argue until they pass out, but taunting someone who seems like they’d taunt him back sounds like a good way to let out some stress.

But he can’t let Korn know that, so he rolls his eyes and says, “You’re crazy if the prospect of fighting sounds fun to you.”

“Why not? It could be.” Korn takes the drink as Wai sets it down, whipped cream and all. Wai gets to making Pat’s drink. “I bet if I didn’t meet you here, we would’ve already fought on campus by now.”

Wai says nothing to this, because even he can’t deny it. Yeah, it’s not like he doesn’t know the Engineering students share a lot of space with the Architecture students that they’ve probably crossed paths on campus by now. Yeah, even though he’s tried to scale back the fighting, if an Engineering student looked at him the wrong way he probably couldn’t resist at least flipping them off. And yeah, if all else failed—or not even that—Wai definitely wouldn’t hesitate in trying to scrap at the expense of getting a bruise or two.

But the truth is less important than his loyalty to his faculty, and to Pran. So he says, “I bet if we did, it’d be your fault,” as he sets the iced milk tea down too.

He glances at Pat in the corner, expecting him to be on his phone. Instead, Pat’s watching them intently—him intently, Wai realizes, and swallows. Pat’s not smiling, a serious look on his face. Wai could probably take him if he needed to, he thinks. Plus, it’s not like he and Korn are actually going to brawl in the middle of the coffee shop.

And Korn’s just chipper as he says, “I know you’re trying to be mean, but you’re probably right.” He takes another merry sip of his drink, then purses his lips through the hole in the lid to lick some whipped cream off. “If it makes you feel any better though, I don’t think the faculty rivalry’s important enough to get in the way of cute boys.” He licks some cream off his lips then winks, before grabbing Pat’s drink and strolling back over to him.

Wai stares, indignant and flustered all at once. What was Korn—what the fuck does he think he’s doing? Wai doesn’t even know the guy! Sure, he’s eavesdropped on more than one conversation, but that’s because he’s loud as fuck and annoying, it’s not like Wai had a choice. And if Korn called him cute, that doesn’t matter because that doesn’t stop him from being an Engineering student and Wai being an Architecture student. So what if Korn seems to like fighting as much as he does? Wai bets he probably likes it more, considering Korn’s willing to flirt with everything that moves, including Architecture students, including him. Korn’s all talk, nothing but bullshit coming out of his mouth. Wai can’t believe he wasted that time while on the clock.

And even worse when he realizes that he fucking iced Korn’s drink again, which Korn crows about delightedly to Pat. “Without asking!” Korn continues. “I think the baristas here like me.” He tosses a smirk in Wai’s direction, which Wai does his best to ignore while he cleans up the counter again.

Korn and Pat talk in low voices—not like Wai’s trying to overhear, anyway. He can’t let Korn win, and he’s pretty sure if he looks at Korn again—if he even thinks about him—that’s letting Korn win. They should leave, especially now that they have their drinks and Pran’s not even here. But as a few more customers fill in the shop, ducking in and out while Chompoo comes back from her break, the unmistakable sound of their voices amid the ambience doesn’t go away.

It’s not that long, but still feels like forever when Wai’s done with the brief rush of customers and decides to give into temptation. He looks at Pat and Korn, who’ve moved from a table to a couch, hovering over what looks to be Pat’s phone and sitting way closer than Wai expected. Wai blinks. Pat takes a sip of his drink, and doesn’t protest when Korn takes the cup from where it’s still in Pat’s hand to drink out of it as well, from the same straw.

Then Korn returns to his own plastic cup on the table, the lid already taken off. He slides a finger through the melting whipped cream like it’s a snack, licking it off his fingers. Then again—

Pat takes Korn’s wrist this time and sucks his fingers into his mouth, almost obscenely. Korn laughs and says, “You slut!” but doesn’t push his friend away.

Wai can’t stop staring. Well, until Pat’s gaze meets his suddenly, and Wai turns away, caught. It’s their fault, he tells himself, for being weird in public. Where he works. Why should he or Pran get flirted with, when these two clearly want to do nothing but cause a scene wherever they go?

):)

“I don’t need you guys to get me,” Pran’s voice says over the phone, as Wai, Safe, and Louis make their way down the hallway. “I’m already up. Just meet me in the lobby.”

“That’s a great suggestion,” Wai says, as behind him Louis reads off the numbers, “427…429…431…”

“Are you guys outside my door already?” Pran sounds annoyed.

“Look, it’s the first time Safe’s actually woken up early,” Wai says, and ignores Safe when he goes, “Hey!” “We ought to get breakfast together at least.”

“You know I already ate,” Pran says, as they stop in front of 439.

“And I know you won’t say no to food if Louis is paying,” Wai points out.

Louis says, “What?”

“You want Safe to pay?” Wai says, and then Louis and Safe start bickering about breakfast. Ignoring them, Wai says into the phone, “Open up.”

Pran opens up. Like he’d said, he’s dressed and ready to go, bag over his shoulder and spreading his arms out pointedly. “See? We can go now,” he says, and starts to push the three of them out of his doorway.

“Wait, wait, wait,” says Wai. Pran huffs, and Safe and Louis look at him questioningly.

Wai turns to Pran. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Pran looks into his bag. “I have my keys,” he says.

Wai raises his eyebrows. “Your headphones?”

“Oh,” says Pran, and opens his door again. “Shit. Be right back!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wai calls after him, and snickers. He glances down to the door hanger on Pran’s doorknob, to see the smiley face is up. That’s a good sign.

With lack of much better to do, as Louis and Safe argue about going to a milk cafe or a bakery, Wai looks around the hallway. He spots the dorm next door—there’s no door hanger on it, but there is an interesting box on a string hanging from it. Like the small snacks from the campus cafe. There’s a little sticky note on it too, even though from here Wai can’t read it, mostly because of how small the handwriting is. Curious, he tilts his head, stepping forward and trying to squint—

“Got them,” Pran says, suddenly appearing back at the doorway.

All thoughts of Pran’s neighbor’s mysterious gift disappear from Wai’s head. “Great,” he says, enveloping Pran’s shoulders with an arm. “Let’s go, I’m starving. Did you guys decide where to go yet?”

“Let’s go to the milk cafe,” Louis decides.

Pran pouts. “But I want to go to the bakery.”

“I want to go to the bakery too,” says Wai.

Safe looks at Louis triumphantly. “Hah!”

“You know that means you’re paying, right?” Louis says to Safe. “And didn’t you say you just ate?” he adds to Pran.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pran says airily. “Thank you guys for paying for my bread.”

“Thank you,” Wai chimes in, equally obnoxious.

“I’ll pay for their bread,” Safe says to Louis, “but not yours.”

“Hey!” Louis protests, and that starts another cycle of arguing all over again.

):)

Wai likes being Pran’s best friend; it’s not an accomplishment, really, but it’s something that Wai takes pride in anyway. Pran’s picky about his food and his bed and peeing, and Wai knows how in every way, accommodating when necessary or teasing him about it in the way people who’ve known each other for decades do, even though they’ve only known each other for a few years. It’s intoxicating how quickly you can get close to someone, after striking conversation after conversation with them in the same class until they open up, after spending day and night living out of each other’s pockets and applying to the same university and opening their letters together, overjoyed at continuing the routine, nothing breaking the rhythm. Pran likes routines and rhythms; that’s why he’s a musician, no matter how many times he insists to Wai he doesn’t play anymore.

But today as they walk into the coffee shop his fingers are calloused, rough lines on the fingers on his right hand like guitar strings. “You get a guitar?” he asks, holding Pran’s hand up by the wrist and raising his eyebrows at him.

Pran tears his hand out of his grasp. “No, I just visited a shop the other day and missed how it felt,” he says smoothly.

That doesn’t feel right. Wai doesn’t know how, but at the same time, he has no reason to doubt him. “Okay,” he says as he starts to take his work apron out of his bag. “But I still have my spare acoustic, just so you know.”

“I know,” Pran says, smiling at him. “I’m fine, Wai, I don’t need it.”

“Sure,” Wai says skeptically, but lets it go as he ties his apron around his waist and gets to work.

Today’s Friday, which means the regular rhythm of customers varies between students and non-students, and never a particular deluge of Engineering students at any given time. Wai can’t wait to get out of service work, but he supposes the experience will look better on his CV, never worse. When he’d started applying for jobs, one of his first applications was at a bar, to which Pran giggled and said, “You sure you want to deal with drunk customers that often?” He had a point, even though it paid more than the cafe; but he and the manager have worked out a consistent schedule to offset the pay difference, and plus, his customers are always sober. A better experience all around.

At least, if he could never see another Engineering student again. Because when the cafe door opens not even fifteen minutes into his shift, Pat and Korn—those two saunter in, like they’re the universe’s gift to Thailand.

Wai sighs, though he’s not even surprised at this point, just resigned. Pat makes a beeline for where Pran’s sitting, and Wai notices Pran look up at him—glaring, most likely, since Wai can’t see from here. Pat sits down anyway and steals Pran’s sketchbook. Pran snatches it back from him. There’s a brief tussle between them, in which Pran wins. Wai’s proud of that, at least.

Then Korn’s coming up to him at the counter, grinning and perching one of his elbows on the upper counter where the snacks are. “Hey,” he says.

Wai fixes him with the most deadpan look he can. “What do you want,” he intones.

“An iced capu,” Korn says, throwing a finger gun at him and winking. “With whipped cream. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Wai doesn’t answer, instead putting the order in. “Anything else?”

Korn glances back at Pat, who, like he could read his mind, throws up two fingers at him before going back to needling Pran about…whatever he’s needling Pran about. “Two iced milk teas,” Korn says to Wai. “Less sweet.”

Wai doesn’t want to waste more brain space on them than he already has, though he can’t help but wonder why Pat wants two. Maybe he’s really thirsty. Maybe he’s saving one for later. Maybe it’s not Wai’s problem.

He puts the order in. “Anything else,” he says to Korn.

Korn laughs at him. “I know you can’t hate your job this much,” he says. “If I did, I just wouldn’t show up.”

Something softens inside Wai—he doesn’t know what it is, but Korn just says whatever’s on his stupid mind. Even though Wai would (probably) never admit it out loud, it’s kind of endearing. Plus, Korn wasn’t the one who caught Wai staring last time.

“I don’t,” he admits to Korn, ducking his head down as he finishes the order on the register touch screen. “Will that be all for today?”

“Well,” says Korn, then hesitates. Wai looks at him expectedly.

Korn grabs a swiss roll package on the shelf of snacks. “This too!” he says. “Actually, wait—which one’s your favorite?”

Wai squints at him. “The butter cake,” he says after a moment.

Korn beams. “Awesome,” he says, then digs through to find the butter cake on the stack. “I’ll get this too then.”

“Okay,” says Wai, and totals his order for him.

No banter about Pat paying for their drinks today—in fact, when Wai glances over in Pat and Pran’s direction, they seemed engrossed in something. Pat has a serious, but soft look on his face that Wai consciously has to tear his gaze away from. When he turns to Korn again, Korn’s holding out a credit card expectantly at him.

“Oh, right,” Wai says, and rings him up.

After processing Korn’s (and, well, Pat’s) order, Wai moves onto the next customer in the queue. He expects Korn to sit down, or at least go on his phone, but he stays by the counter bar with his hands behind his back, not exactly out of the way from the customers. “Excuse me,” says the next one, who looks like she might be a professor from their school.

“Oh, sorry.” Korn wais at her quickly.

Wai says to him, “You might want to move out of the way.” He gestures to where the straws and napkins are.

“Sure,” Korn says, but he barely moves.

Is Korn just fucking with him? Whatever, Wai doesn’t have to care. If someone ends up spilling their drink on him, it’s his own fault. He goes back to work as Golf and Phet work on the orders; it’s a matter of time before they’re ready and their names get called out.

Wai fully expects Korn to somehow juggle all three drinks, the small piece of cake in his hands (which he still hasn’t eaten yet), and go. But instead, Pat’s the one who gets up to grab his iced milk teas as Korn grabs his drink on his own. Pat elbows his friend. Korn mutters something to him and Pat elbows him again, more emphatically.

Wai frowns. Then he shakes his head. Not only is it none of his business, but he really doesn’t care.

He gets through another queue of customers before it slows down a little, the crowd dispersing either to the tables or out of the cafe, moving on with their lives. And yet Korn’s still standing there, drink in one hand and cake in the other, muttering something to himself.

Since everyone’s gone, Wai can’t help himself from asking, “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

Korn lets out a big exhale.

Then:

“Wanna go see a movie?”

Wai’s brain doesn’t work for a solid second. “What?”

“Or like, if you’re not into movies, we can just eat something,” Korn continues. “Or like, we can get a drink? You ever been to the bar in front of the flagpole? My friends and I go there all the time. Not like I’m asking you as a friend. A date. I’m asking you on a date. Or we can go to a concert. What kind of movies do you like? Have you been to a concert recently? I haven’t, it sucks, I used to go all the time when I was in—”

“What,” Wai says again.

Korn looks down, then seems to remember he’s still holding the butter cake. “Oh! And I bought this for you.” He smiles winningly.

Wai’s brain is spinning. Why in the fuck would Korn think Wai wants to go on a date with him? And asking him during work while he’s at it—though it’s not like Wai hasn’t been rude to him before. In fact, there’s nothing stopping him from saying no. Sure, Korn’s—attractive, his dumb topknot that looks extremely pullable, dancing and happy eyes that Wai kind of wonders what they would look like more intense, if they actually fought like Korn suggested, maybe even while their skin, naked, is pressed against each other.

But he’s an Engineering student, and he’s annoying, and he’s Korn, and Pran, Pran—

Like a lifeline, Wai looks desperately at Pran’s table. To his dismay, Pran’s moved to the other side of the table so Wai can see his face now—and he’s beaming sunnily at Pat while he takes one of the iced milk teas that Pat had bought. The second one. Pat’s grinning at him back, and they’re leaning so close together, and Pran likes iced milk tea less sweet too. That second one was for him. How did Pat even know that?

“Pat asked him out, too,” Korn’s voice says, interrupting his thoughts. “We had a bet—err, we agreed,” he revises when Wai jerks his head back around to him. “He wanted to ask Pran out, and I wanted to ask you out.”

He smiles hopefully, hand still outstretched, offering the butter cake.

“So,” Korn says. “What do you say?”

Something—something like anger, but also like sadness, but also an abject emptiness at the realization that something’s been happening the past few weeks, something Wai had been completely oblivious to. Is this what he gets, when he’s on the clock and his best friend just lets himself get wooed by the two most annoying Engineering students in the world without confiding in Wai at all? Without letting him know how he feels?

The fury doesn’t feel right, but it’s all Wai knows when he spits out, “Fuck no,” then turns to Golf and Phet, a sour taste filling his mouth. “I’m clocking out early, I feel sick,” he tells them, taking his apron off angrily and shoving it into his bag.

It still doesn’t feel right, and when he turns around again after gathering up his things, the crumpled expression on Korn’s face is too much for him to handle. Even the sting of betrayal doesn’t help him from muttering, “Sorry,” as he shoves his way past Korn, not looking at Pran or Pat or anyone else along the way. If they notice him storming out, good. He’s not dealing with this bullshit right now.

After he leaves and walks a few blocks, he takes a deep breath. It’s sunny and some passerby cussed him out for how blindly he was walking, but he doesn’t care. The hot autumn sun feels like a mockery right now.

He takes out his phone. We need to talk, he types out to Pran, before shoving it back into his pocket and skulking back to his dorm.

):)

Wai knows he has a weakness, and it’s Pran. He can’t stay mad at him, as much as he wants to, because he knows Pran’s a better person than him—more patient, kind, and would never go out of his way to hurt Wai even if he was upset with him for anything. Wai’s not the same. He knows he’s worse.

It’s the next evening when he shows up at Pran’s dorm, bag over his shoulder and more annoyed at himself than anything. He knocks, and Pran opens the door almost immediately.

“Hey,” Pran says, eyes big with concern. “You okay?”

Wai grunts. “Fine,” he says, making his way in.

Pran closes the door. Wai sets himself and his things down on the couch. When Pran turns to him, he looks a little lost.

“What do you want to do?” he asks Wai hesitantly.

Wai sighs. He doesn’t want to talk; but he doesn’t want to leave, either. And they can’t play video games, because Wai’s not sure he won’t stop himself from taking out whatever the fuck he’s feeling on Pran.

“Can we just study?” he asks.

Something like relief washes over Pran’s face. He nods.

They usually don’t study together unless they both have an exam coming up. The last time that happened, they were still in boarding school. Still, it’s almost nice, despite that they’re not touching each other as closely as they usually would, with Pran sitting at his desk while Wai’s on the couch, both of them silently poring over their textbooks and laptops. Wai finds that focusing on his studies in the same room as Pran even though they haven’t properly talked yet is nearly as easy as normal. Almost.

Before he knows it though, a few hours have passed and he covers a yawn with his palm.

Pran turns to him. “Tired?”

Wai nods. “Yeah.”

“I made the bed already,” Pran says, and starts to stand up. Wai frowns; even if they can sit in a few hours of peace together, their sort of not really fighting should entitle Pran to his own bed. “And, um. I don’t have to go to the bathroom, so you can shower. If you want.”

Does Pran really think Wai won’t respect his habits even when they’re like this? Well, Wai supposes, they haven’t really been like this before. The only major fight they’ve ever had was in boarding school, when Wai thought Pran stole one of his favorite comics and tried to beat him up for it. They ended up finding it under Wai’s bed mid-scuffle, and Wai cried and apologized to Pran while Pran said it was okay.

Wai feels shitty as he steps into the shower, and not because he needs one. This sucks, but he sucks at apologizing even more. What’s he supposed to do? He spent nearly four whole hours at Pran’s place and barely spoke ten words to him. And Wai doesn’t even know what he wants to say. As annoyed as he is, he knows it’s not Pran’s fault. It’s not anyone’s fault, really. But the feelings in Wai’s chest feels like too much, like he deserves this heavy feeling of guilt getting more and more crushing until Pran says it’s okay.

When he gets out of the shower, he changes into his sleep clothes and shuts off the lights. Pran was right; his bed is perfectly made, like he straightened it out even after he made it this morning, after Wai texted him, Can I sleep over tonight? earlier in the afternoon. Pran had almost instantly replied, Sure, and Wai can see him now going to unmaking then making his bed again the moment after he sent the text. Wai smiles despite himself, getting into bed.

Not even a minute passes with him alone in the dark until the door opens. The lights are off in the living room. Pran doesn’t even hesitate before closing the door and sliding under the sheets beside Wai.

He presses close, closer than he’s been before, so that Wai can hear him breathe.

“Do you want to talk?” he asks Wai.

It’s supposed to be easier in the dark. It is, usually. Wai’s heart thumps erratically against his chest.

“No,” he admits.

Pran sighs. Wai feels his fingers trace down his arm, under the covers, finding his own. Pran tangles them together, and Wai lets him.

“Pat and I have known each other for a while,” Pran says into the dark. It nearly startles Wai. “Much longer than I’ve known you. Since we were babies.” He chuckles a bit. “Before that, even.”

Wai was not expecting that at all. He swallows again. “So?”

“So what I’m trying to say is,” says Pran. “We hadn’t seen each other in a while. We just…picked up where we left off.”

There’s a lot unsaid in that statement, and Wai feels that twist of jealousy again. But resignation, too—Pran had mentioned his first love in boarding school. Had cried, even, while Wai held his hand. Had looked Wai with tears brimming in his eyes, inching closer at the same time as Wai, letting the gap between them, between their mouths disappear.

Now, Wai’s mouth feels dry. “What about us?” he asks Pran. “Will we ever pick up where we left off too?”

He doesn’t know what he means by that—he doesn’t even want to say, what about me? Pat’s a catch. Without his engineering-blue tinted glasses, Wai knows that.

But Pran gets closer to him. Somehow, on his bed when they’re already pressed together, he does. “Yeah?” he asks Wai.

Wai doesn’t know what Pran’s asking. At least, that’s what he tells himself. “Yeah,” he says.

Then Pran’s kissing him again—like the first time, the second time, the tenth, when they were about to graduate high school and they were so excited and got hard so easily that it didn’t feel like anything but love. Wai opens up, kisses back eagerly as Pran climbs on top of him then, straddles his waist. Pran’s mouth is wet and warm and greedy, and if this is the last time Wai will take whatever he can get, anything. His hands slide down Pran’s sides, waist, cupping his ass, while he murmurs, “Pran, Pran, Pran.”

Like a song, Pran’s mumbling back as his fingers trail down Wai’s front, the string of his pajama bottoms, “Wai, please, Wai—”

):)

The weather next day is cool, even though Wai’s chest feels more like spring going into summer. He and Pran didn’t talk about the night before in the morning, or even the incident at the coffee shop, but Wai thinks things will be okay. It’s still him and Pran no matter what, after all.

Pran’s texting someone with a slight furrow between his eyes. Wai pats the lines down from his forehead—”You’ve got to stop making that face so much, you’ll get wrinkles easily.”

Pran pockets his phone and dimples at Wai. “Not with my parents’ genes.”

“Genes can’t stop you from getting old,” Wai points out.

It’s one of their slower days, so Wai has the morning shift by himself and trades it off in the afternoon. Good for his paycheck, and a good use of time as Pran accompanies him to the cafe once again.

Pran goes to his usual table. Wai stops with him, putting his bag down and taking his apron out. “Hey, did you see the posters for the Freshy Day concert earlier? We should join that.” He looks at Pran, who’s starting up his laptop. “Especially if you’re looking at guitars again.”

Pran’s mouth twists in thought, but not unhappily. “Maybe.”

“You can do research while I work,” Wai says as he grabs his things again. He heads behind the counter to get himself set up. “And write the song while you’re at it.”

“I’m starting to think you just want an excuse for me to do all the work.”

“Hey, I just believe in my friend’s musical talents.”

The slight bustle of customers starts to trickle in, but never too much for him to handle, as are prone on Sundays. Wai takes their orders, wondering if he should offer to take Chompoo’s shift this afternoon, especially since he’d walked out so early on Friday. He doubts Pran would protest anyway, since Pran had been reluctant to let him out of his sight even this morning when they’d gotten out of bed. Wai smiles to himself; despite everything, at least he has his best friend back.

The customers come and go—then, almost like clockwork, Korn and Pat walk in. They’re not wearing their engineering uniforms, Korn in some hideous blazer that Wai finds kind of cute, Pat in a red t-shirt. Wai feels like he should keep with the regular pretenses, but he’s tired now, so he just waits for them to come up to order.

And they…don’t. In fact, both of them go to Pran, who doesn’t seem surprised to see them at all. Makes sense, Wai figures, since Pran had said yes to Pat for that date.

Pran says something that Wai can’t hear, low enough that Pat has to duck his head down for. Pat looks bemused but he nods, then Pran’s getting up from his seat, leaving with Pat. His things stay at his table though, and Korn calls after them, “I’ll watch your stuff, Pran!” Pran nods to him before disappearing out of the cafe with Pat.

Wai’s confused. Pran and Pat walk out of sight, so Wai can’t see them from the window. Korn’s sitting at the table, alone, tapping listlessly.

That unease before isn’t as heavy as it is when Pran’s involved, but Wai’s stomach twists guiltily anyway. He…Korn didn’t deserve how he talked to him, especially since Korn was the one being nice—cute, even—to ask him out. Korn’s kind of weird, but everything else aside it’s not like Wai even…oh, what the hell, he likes it. He does like how Korn is persistent and thoughtless and likes to fight, apparently. That he can see how grumpy Wai can be and still talk like he’s the brightest sunshine in the world. He’s no Pran, but who is? And Wai, well.

If Wai let himself be greedy, think of what he actually wants for one moment, he can’t deny that there’s something about Korn that he wants for himself, too.

Oh, fuck it. Last night was the last night he’d ever do anything with Pran—that much is clear. Pran’s going to be happy with his first love, so Wai steels himself as he makes his way out from behind the counter, across the empty coffee shop. Pran made him care, but something about Korn makes Wai want to be brave. If Korn could ask him out, then why can’t he?

“Korn,” Wai says, and Korn stops tapping incessantly at the table and looks at him with surprise.

Wai snickers. “Finally you stopped that,” he says. “But uh. About Friday. I’m sorry about that.” He can’t believe he’s doing this, but the shocked look on Korn’s face wants him to do even more, to prove that he can be just as thoughtless and stupid as Korn can be. “Also, I changed my mind. If you still want to go out sometime.”

The look on Korn’s face is flat out stunned.

Then he breaks into a grin.

“Did you finally come to your senses?” he asks Wai. “That I’m an amazing date? Of course you’d change your mind, you’d be stupid not to.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Wai says, laughing. “It’s just one date.”

Korn beams at him. “Hope you don’t have rules for the first date,” he says. “Otherwise I’ll be trying to get another.”

“You probably should,” says Wai. This guy is really so dumb; if he doesn’t try to ask for a second date, Wai might ask him himself. If he’s stupid enough. “What would be the point of the first one then?”

“I dunno, depends how long it lasts.” Korn wiggles his eyebrows.

Wai rolls his eyes, trying to seem long-suffering though he’s pretty sure his smile is giving him away. “You’re confident, aren’t you?”

“Ambitious,” Korn says.

“Annoying,” Wai corrects.

They’re grinning stupidly at each other that neither of them realize Pran and Pat have returned until Pran’s voice says behind him, “Wai.” Wai turns around; Pran’s eyebrows are furrowed again. Wai wants to press them down so badly.

“What are you doing?” Pran asks.

Wai shrugged. “Changed my mind,” he says. “I’ll go on a date with Korn, why not?”

“But—” Pran says.

And Pat cuts between them and scowls at Wai. “What,” he demands.

Wai is…even more confused. “What?” he says. “Aren’t you guys,” he gestures between Pran and Pat.

Pran says, “No?”

“Pran just called it off with me,” Pat says frostily, scowling even more at Wai. “Because he’s seeing you.”

Wai turns at Pran with alarm. “Wait, what?”

“Last night.” Pran has a lost look on his face as he talks to Wai, like he’s being serious, like he actually wants this. “Last night, I thought we were…I thought that’s what you wanted. And you knew I wanted it too?”

“No?” says Wai. He’s lightheaded; he wants to laugh at the incredulity. He’s not even sure if he should laugh. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say, or what he wants. “I mean, yeah, sure, I want it, but I thought you wanted Pat more, that it’d be our last time…”

“Oh,” says Pran. “Oh, no.”

Korn interrupts, “What’d you guys do last night?” He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face.

Wai rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“But…then…what…” Pran looks at Pat, who looks just as lost as Pran. “Pat?”

“I don’t fucking know.” Pat practically collapses in the chair next to Wai. Wai kind of wants to pat his thigh in assurance, but he’s pretty sure it’ll come off as condescending more than anything.

Korn chirps up. “Why don’t we just go on a double date then?”

“What?” Pat and Pran say to him simultaneously.

Wai shrugs. “I’m down.”

“Wait,” says Pat. “But with who?”

Korn looks between the four of them. Then he snickers. “Well, we have a few options,” he says. “It could be you guys, and me and Wai. Or it can be Pran and Wai, and me and you, Pat.”

“You know I’d date you,” Pat says to him in a heartbeat like they’ve discussed it before. Korn beams. “But—”

“Or me and you, and Korn and Pran?” Wai asks him.

Pat stares at him. Wai meets his gaze.

It doesn’t last very long; Pat glances away, and Wai feels like he’s passed a test of some sort. “Pran,” Pat says. “What do you think?”

Pran throws his hands up. “Does it matter as long as all of us are going to be there?”

“No,” says Wai, while Korn says, “Yes.”

Wai looks at him this time; Korn grins. “You suck,” Wai says to him, and Korn just kicks his foot under the table in response.

):)

Wai likes being part of a team, but this might just be too much for him.

“Isn’t Korn supposed to be my date?” he grumbles, as he supposed date opens his mouth to accept a strip of beef from Pat’s chopsticks.

Pat smirks at him. “Did we ever agree on that?”

Well, no, but Wai’s not going to admit it to him. “This might be against the restaurant’s rules,” he says, as Korn sways dangerously in Pat’s lap and both Wai and Pran eye the pot in the middle with trepidation. “Let me call over a waiter and see.”

“And kick us out?” Korn asks, sticking out his lower lip.

Wai sticks his tongue out at him. “Yes.”

He doesn’t call over a waiter, though. Korn’s balanced on Pat’s lap like they do this all the time, Pat alternating between feeding himself and Korn. “Cabbage please,” Korn requests, and Pat grabs a piece and feeds it into Korn’s mouth. “Thank you,” Korn says cheerfully.

Pran crinkles his nose at them. “You guys are disgusting.”

“I know you just want me to feed you too,” Pat says, grabbing another piece of meat. “Open up.”

Pran’s reluctant at first—but then he does, not looking at anyone as he leans over to take the food from Pat’s chopsticks.

Last second, and Pat switches tack, feeding Wai instead who was ready for it. “Mm,” Wai says, turning to Pran. “Tasty.”

“I’m not falling for that again,” Pran says, which is probably the fourth time he’s said it this week.

He’s sulking, but Wai knows it’s for show; it usually is, these days, because Pran wants more attention than he’s willing to admit. “Hey, hey,” Wai says, nudging his shoulder. “I’ll feed you a dumpling.” He grabs one from the pot.

Pran’s expression is dubious. “Promise?”

“Have I ever let you down like one of those guys?” Wai says pointedly.

Pran seems to reconsider, then nods. Wai feeds him the dumpling, and Pran chews on it happily.

“Aww, they’re so cute,” Korn coos to Pat. “Why can’t we be as cute as them?”

“We’re cuter,” Pat says.

Korn thinks. “Well, we don’t have Pran between us.”

“True.”

“Hey, what about me?” Wai says indignantly.

Korn glances at him. “You’re okay,” he says, and Pat and Pran laugh.

Wai grabs Korn’s nose with his chopsticks, which makes Korn go, “Ow, ow, okay! You have the most sexual appeal out of all of us.”

“That’s right,” Wai says smugly, and releases his nose.

Pat and Pran look vaguely amused, but not even Pat says anything about that. “You’re not gonna disagree with him?” Wai asks.

Pat shrugs. “It’s true.”

Heat floods Wai’s stomach then—not like Pat’s not speaking from experience, not like he doesn’t fucking know, but it’s something else entirely to hear him say so out loud. He focuses on the hot pot suddenly, putting more carrots and cabbage in even though they already have more than enough.

Korn saying, “Are you trying to feel me up Pat? ‘Cause you know there’s nothing there now,” breaks Wai out of his thoughts and he coughs into a laugh.

Korn grins at him—he really loves making Wai in particular laugh. Wai doesn’t know why, but his chest feels all bubbly inside from it, anyway. He imagines it’s the same way Pat likes making Pran laugh; the way Wai likes making sure Pran’s preferences are all accommodated; the way Pat always leans into Korn, because Korn’s a leech for physical attention. Wai doesn’t know what to call this—thing, between the four of them, but it’s better than they were before. Most days, he’s even glad Korn and Pat walked into the cafe that first time, that Pat had recognized Pran from his childhood and thrown everything into chaos.

“You guys are so weird,” Pran says, and it takes Wai a moment that he’s not just talking to Pat and Korn, but Wai too. “You two,” he says, pointedly to Pat and Wai. “Are you ever gonna let us watch you kiss?”

“Wait, I’m into this,” Korn says, clambering off Pat’s lap. “Are we finally talking about it?”

“Like you’ve noticed anything,” Wai says to him.

“I have!”

“Don’t change the subject,” Pran warns him. “You guys like to act like you can barely stand each other most of the time—”

“We do?” Pat asks him, and Wai holds himself back from snickering.

Pran rolls his eyes. “Sometimes a guy just wants to see two guys he kisses on a regular basis to kiss each other too, is that too much to ask?”

“Yeah, is that too much to ask?” Korn agrees, getting out of the booth with Pat and dragging Wai out from where he’s beside Pran. “Get out of here. Go over there.”

“Korn, you—” Wai tries to protest, but admittedly doesn’t put up much of a fight as Korn shoves him out of the booth.

Korn waves him over. “You heard Pran,” he says. “Go give us a show.”

Wai sighs, but he knows he’s smiling as he slides in with Pat. “Do we have a choice?” he asks Pat—Pat, who knows Pran as much as him, so much that sometimes Wai feels like he’s competing against him with it. But sometimes, it just feels like they’re competing for the sake of it. For each other.

Pat grins at him back. “I don’t think so,” he says.

It’s Wai who leans in first because like hell if he’ll let Pat get this over him, if anything. It’s not the first time, even though it is the first in front of Korn and Pran, where Pran goes, “Oh finally,” and Korn says, “That’s hot,” when Pat slides his tongue between Wai’s lips, open-mouthed, obscene.

He feels a foot slide up his ankle. Fifty-fifty bets could be between Korn and Pran, though Korn has more of a penchant for playing footsie in public places. But, it could be Pran too.

Wai decides he doesn’t care.

---