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Sure, maybe Pat and Pa constantly bicker and have pointless fights growing up, but Pat never really gets irrationally angry at his little sister. But when Pa mentions that one of her friends asked Pran out earlier that afternoon, Pat feels a bubble of anger burst inside of him.
"Good for her, you know?" Pa says dreamily, sitting on the floor of Pat's bedroom as he does her hair. "P'Pran is so hot, plus he's so nice. My friend asked him if she can get a ride home with his bicycle." Pa starts giggling, but the unsettled feeling simmers hotly inside Pat.
Pat furrows his eyebrows together, Pa's story evoking a pretty recent memory of Pran and his bike. He tugs on her hair softly, but enough for her to go, "Hia!" and pout.
"Is this what you keep talking about at school now?" Pat tells her teasingly, passing it off as a joke, pretending that whatever Pa said isn't bothering him. Except his throat feels hollow and his shoulders are tense at the sudden thought of girls gossiping over his nemesis. "Pran and his bike?"
"It's not our fault he's so cute," Pa says, clicking her tongue at him. "Why, are you jealous?" Pa snaps back almost immediately after. After sensing the slight shift in his face, Pa's face breaks into a teasing grin. "I'm right, aren't I?" Pa huffs in disbelief. "You are!"
So Pat shoves her shoulder, rolling his eyes, pretending that the inexorable jealousy isn't settling at the pits of his stomach.
Pa meant: you're jealous because you're not getting asked out.
Pat thought: I'm jealous because Pran is being asked out?
They don't distinguish it.
*
Here’s the thing about Pat: no matter how much of an annoying slob he is and doesn’t care much for his own things (“what kind of person has drawers this messy?” Pa always says as she goes through his clothes), he’s an attentive brother.
Pat knows all of Pa’s friends. Like Peach.
Peach who’s the same year as Pa and lives in the same neighborhood as them, house situated only a couple blocks away from his and Pran’s. Peach who apparently asked Pran for a ride back home.
It makes sense for her to get a ride from Pran. It does.
But Pat still minds. Never mind all the logical explanations as to which Pran probably agreed (because why would he? he doesn't seem interested in Peach? he doesn't seem interested in anyone?), Pat is just somehow uncontrollably annoyed at the idea of it.
Pat is confused and frankly jealous, but he knows it's not about her. He doesn’t care about Peach—she’s cute, sure, but she reminds him of Pa, like a sister.
But Pat is reminded of the time he teased Pran when he first got his big boy bike, how he glided around the front of his house with the biggest grin. One that easily rivaled the one he does whenever he'd win over Pat while Pat would often walk away, sporting a satisfied smile of his own because losing to Pran has always never felt bad for him. Sometimes it even felt like a win to see those dimples pop out, the smugness radiating off of Pran. So Pat had watched him from his window with a satisfied grin of his own, because Pran always loved his bike growing up, memories of them competing on who gets to where first in his mind.
Even though Pran got the bigger, better bike first, Pat was truly happy for him. Liked the way his dimples deepened. Pat joked about it the next day, just so Pran knew he knew.
“You gonna start taking people up for a ride?” Pat teased Pran, because it was a common pickup line his friends always did. But that didn’t sit right with him either. So he said, “Better yet, wanna take me for a ride?”
Huh, that sounded like a great idea for Pat. His eyes lit up excitedly, watching Pran's face contort into a mixture of surprise and a flash of shyness. It got wiped away almost immediately with Pran schooling an annoyed (and fond, Pat thought, because Pran's mouth quirked just a little!) expression.
But then Pran said, “You wish.” And there went those damn dimples again, perfectly digging down his cheeks in mockery. Pat wanted to poke them as always just to annoy Pran, but he just scoffed, wondering why his heart was beating so loudly.
Now Pran agreed to someone else. For the first time. When he’s rejected Pat.
Pat thinks he's burning with jealousy because it’s a bruise to his ego. It's probably that. He’s realized his irrational anger was not towards Pa, but to the fact that Pran is taking someone else.
Someone that’s not Pat, who asked first.
*
The thought doesn't leave Pat's head even until lunchtime the next day.
Pat already inhaled his sandwich a few minutes into noon, the idea of the stupid bike still lingering in his mind. Beside him, Pran is determined to use the lunch gap to look over his Physics notes with his own sandwich abandoned at the corner of his desk and a half eaten dark chocolate bar. They do this sometimes; stay back in the classroom, doing their own thing, occasionally glancing at each other. It's some of their more peaceful moments, the silence usually comforting.
Except now as Pat sighs loudly, obnoxiously, thinking of Pran and Peach again. Pran with his face now buried in his Physics textbook in frustration looks up.
"You're breathing too loud," Pran says pointedly. "I can't focus."
"Your nose is literally touching the book. Looking at it that close won't help transmit it to your brain."
Pran groans. "I don't want to do this anymore."
"So don't. We both know you're going to come second in that exam anyway," Pat says. "Just give up and eat your sandwich. Chocolate won't keep you energized for the rest of the day."
With eyes suddenly trained on his uneaten sandwich, Pran starts tapping his pen against his book in contemplation, chewing on his bottom lip. He knows Pat usually scores more than him in Physics anyway, except he's just having a harder time grasping one last concept. "I'll eat it later," Pran says instead, going back to his book.
Pat slithers down his desk, putting his face on his forearms as he continues to stare at Pran.
Pran who's probably going to bike his way home in a few hours with Peach.
Pran who's struggling with Physics, his nose scrunched with his pen hovered paper.
Pran who could probably use some tutoring help from Pat after school.
It's as if a lightbulb flashes over Pat's head, bright and illuminating, an answer to his current problem that's not really a problem.
"I can teach you after rugby," Pat offers helpfully. Giddily, almost vibrating out of his seat. Pran looks at him weirdly—not that them studying together is weird, it's not uncommon, but Pat's inexplicable excitement at the moment is.
The expression on Pran's face is almost torn. Pat's heart thunders a little louder in his chest in anticipation.
"I can't, I made plans," Pran says softly, almost hesitant.
Is Pran... being shy?
Pat feels his stomach twist again. He almost couldn't help it when he says, "I heard from Pa. Peach, right?"
The surprise on Pran's face is almost comical, his eyes wide, mouth slightly parted and eyebrows shooting up wildly. He almost looks cute like this, except Pat is still annoyed. "Heard you're taking her on your bike," Pat mumbles bitterly.
A flash of triumph seems to envelop Pran's expression, his chin dimple showing up. "I am," he says confidently, sitting upright as if he's gauging whether Pat is going to say more. "You got a problem with that?"
"Why would I?" Pat replies, flicking his chin. Pran looks annoyed, maybe slightly disappointed, but Pat is too busy schooling the nervousness seeping all the way to his bones. So he looks away and says, "I don't want a ride from you anyway."
"Really?" Pran responds so swiftly that Pat's head turns instinctively. The look that Pran gives him, eyelashes suddenly fluttering wildly as if he's had a realization as he gazes at Pat goes away just as quickly.
"Really," Pat says, but deep inside he's seething, carelessly drowning in his own jealousy.
*
Pat obviously lied. He has a problem over this, as if it's a real concern. He definitely thinks about this problem more than he wants to.
Pat gets so distracted during rugby practice after school with thoughts of Peach and Pran on his nice bike, probably smiling as she hugs his waist and leans on his back. It sounds wrong to him, because he just can’t see Pran being like that. Being soft and cute with a girl. Pat keeps thinking and thinking while running with the rugby ball in his hands until he sees Peach and Pran at the corner of his eyes talking by the bike racks. Pat’s mind is not as fast as the tackling that comes after him, twisting as he braces for it and lands badly.
Oh no.
Fuck fuck fuck, Pat thinks his ankle is fucked or something. He’s writhing in pain, but his eyes are zoned in to Pran whom he’s managed to catch the attention of and is now staring at him with a worried look on his face. Pat needs to stop the stupid grin spreading on his face. It works pretty well as he purses his mouth and looks away from Pran. But Pat yells louder, harder. Over-exaggerates, dramatically going, “shit I think I sprained my ankle” as his teammates come closer. The one that tackled him apologizes profusely, although it’s not his fault.
It’s effective. Pran seems to be coming in closer, his eyebrows knitted together in a way that Pat recognizes when he’s stressed, worried, or dealing with Pat and his stupidity, like that one time he bruised an elbow on the ground after him and Pran went at it at the playground.
One of their classmates sees Pran as Pat hobbles his way up, his ankle pain actually manageable, enough to probably get to the bus stop and go home.
But Pat has other plans.
Like getting on Pran's bike kind of plans.
"Hey, Pran!" the guy says. "Aren't you guys neighbors?"
Pat snickers to himself as Pran makes his way over, eyeing Pat with a suspicious look, like he knows. Pat makes his best puppy look to him, then to Peach who seems to be getting more dejected by the minute. Pran's eyes flicker with something. A flash of curiosity, perceptive.
"Maybe P'Pat needs a ride home," Peach suggests hesitantly, and it takes all of Pat's willpower not to break out of his sad face, glee helplessly washing over him. "Maybe you can take him?"
"Really now?" Pran raises a brow at Pat, like he definitely knows what Pat is scheming.
Pat raises a brow at him, shimmying a little, like he himself is hesitating. Pretending he isn't vibrating out of his body with a sudden thrill of satisfaction. "I don't want to owe you, Parakul."
Pran scoffs, but his chin dimple is showing. He definitely knows. "If you insist."
"Wait, wait, wait," Pat backtracks almost immediately, standing upright as Pran turns on his heels until the sharp pain hits him again. "Ow," he says softly, like a kicked puppy, and of course Pran turns around. Pat is filled with so much entertainment and pain. It's weird. "Can I..." he trails off.
Crossing his arms together, Pran says smugly, "Can you what?"
"Take me home in your bike," Pat says, pretending to be dejected, but his eyes are bright and happy.
Pran seems to be able to tell just as quickly, indulging in it. He's grinning at Pat now, all his dimples showing, his eyes squinting in glee. Pat feels his heart stutter a little, trying to swallow a rock that seems to have lodged itself in his throat. Pran looks so cute sometimes, it makes him feel weird. Everyone watches them with curious eyes as Pran responds with, "Say please."
All Pat could do is muster his biggest puppy eyes and pout as he says, "Please."
*
And so this is how Pat eventually finds himself sitting at the back of Pran's bike, a triumphant grin plastered all over his face. Besides, he doesn't need to hide his smugness because Pran cannot see it anyway. Pran is the first one to open his mouth as their friends walk away.
"Don't cling to me too tightly," is all Pran says, curt and short, a sudden odd tone to his voice. Like Pran's nervous, a little timid just like how he's said earlier in the day that he made plans.
Plans that Pat has managed to sabotage for absolutely no rational reason, and yet Pat feels that familiar thundering in his ears. Pat's gotten used to it—the quickening of his heart around Pran—it's not uncommon. In fact, it's so common whenever Pran and him would compete, except there's no competition this time.
He's gotten rid of that, Pat thinks smugly, watching Peach walk towards the bus stop. He wraps his arms around Pran's waist, feeling the softness of his belly as he tightens his grip. Pran yelps, voice whiny and Pat just leans into his back because Pran smells so good, so warm.
"If that's your pickup line, it sucks," is all Pat replies to him.
"Says the guy who desperately wants a ride from me," Pran scoffs.
"I asked first," Pat accidentally says out loud, but Pran doesn’t say anything for a moment as he starts pedaling out of campus.
When they get into the main road, a sleuth of tuktuks starts passing by them. The roaring of the motorcycles easily drowns out the loud drumming in Pat's chest, but he still manages to hear the faintness of Pran's voice as he says, "You know I don't like her like that, right?"
And Pat feels warm and tingly all over, Pran's words making him speechless. It's an odd feeling, but it's a familiar warmth that gets evoked in Pran's normal presence.
Pat thinks Pran pedals just a bit faster, racing Pat’s heart as the wind blows against their faces.
If Pat's smile doesn't leave his face all the way to the corner of their street, Pran doesn’t need to know.
Pat:1, Pran:0.
(Pat doesn’t know at the moment that Pran feels like he won just the same.)
*
Years later, if Pat jokes about asking Pran for a ride as he slithers up to Pran in bed, Pran would just scoff and be reminded of this time.
"You definitely already liked me then," Pran says smugly, and Pat just kisses the tip of his nose.
Pat's realization came a few years late, but they've got the rest of their lives to make up for it.