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Pran waited in the music room, vibrating in excitement. He just couldn't keep still. It was finally the day of the Christmas concert, and Pat and his bandmates had already headed over to set up the stage. Pran however, had run back to the music room because he had forgotten one important thing - his special pick. The one Pat called the world's most handsome pick, after he had cut it out from his own ID card, and then leaned over to whisper in Pran's ear, "Besides, having your boyfriend's photo with you all the time should act as a good luck charm too, shouldn't it?" Pat had smirked at Pran, as Pran remembered feeling hot around the ears, and hoped desperately that his blushing wasn't visible.
Pran laughed to himself, as he rummaged around his guitar bag and pulled out the pick. He then paused to take a deep breath in front of the door. This was the day he and Pat had been looking forward to since the past month and a half.
It was funny how fast time had flown when they had been invested in writing the song for their performance. Alhough, if Pran was being honest, they had also been plenty distracted with sneaking away to go on dates in far off hole-in-the-wall cafes that their parents were unlikely to stumble across or climb the huge oak tree near the pond where Pran had once saved Paa from drowning, hiding away in its thick branches.
Nevertheless, between finishing the song, and completing school work, while also competing against each other day in and day out, had been exhausting, especially since they still had to pretend that they were enemies at each others throats, even if it was the last thing on their mind. Pran was looking forward to finally being on the stage with Pat, without worrying about how things could go wrong.
"Pran, did you get your pick?" Pat asked, pushing the door open, while fiddling with the zipper of his jacket, and ran straight into Pran, not noticing him standing right behind the door. It was a good thing that neither Pran nor his guitar had fallen when Pat had slammed into him like a large puppy. "Ai Pat, look where you're going!" Pran snapped, even as his arm came up around Pat's waist to steady him. Pat smirked at Pran, looking pointedly at his arm.
"Why would I, when I know my boyfriend will always catch me?" Pat asked smugly, laughing at Pran's expression. "Come on, they're waiting for us." He said, pulling Pran along, until they had reached the door, when Pat suddenly pushed Pran up against the door, slamming it shut with his force.
"Pat, what..."
Pran was interrupted by a soft press of lips against his forehead, followed by a small kiss to his nose, that basically made him melt against the door and grasp Pat's arms to hold himself upright, which had surprisingly bulked up in the past few months of gymming that Pat had been doing. Pran felt his lips pull into a smile, and he shook his head slightly. When was he going to stop being surprised by Pat? Even though he'd probably touched Pat's biceps a few times before, it had all been above clothes. They had decided to take it slow, hadn't even kissed on the lips yet, because Pat had wanted to save it for after the Christmas concert, and Pran wanted to make Pat happy.
"I wanted a good luck kiss." Pat pouted at Pran, before leaning over to kiss Pran's cheek this time.
"We really need to go." Pran reminded him softly, but made no efforts to extract himself from Pat's arms. He would love to stay there forever, if given a choice.
They were suddenly interrupted by a loud knock on the door and a voice shouting, "Oi Pat! Pran! Are you there? The parents and kids have started coming, we need to start!"
Pran froze against the door as he heard that. Parents.
"Uh... we'll be right there. Searching for the pick. Give us a few minutes!" Pat shouted back, listening as the voice outside agreed and footsteps fading away rapidly.
"Pran. Pran, don't worry, calm down. Your parents aren't in town, they're with your grandmother, remember? And mine have to take Paa for her science convention in another city. We're alone for the next few days. There's nothing to worry about. Nothing will go wrong. Come on, breathe with me." Pat said, the tight grip on Pran's shoulder acting as the only thing that stopped Pran from spiralling. It was a calming pressure, and Pran forced himself to listen to Pat, to process everything that he was reminding Pran of - everything he knew already, but his mind still tended to jump ahead and dive headfirst into the worst scenario he could dream up. No such thing was going to happen that day though. It had been the best sort of coincidence, Pran's parents leaving to visit his grandmother who had fallen ill all of a sudden, and Pat's parents driving Paa all the way over to a different city almost 12 hours away by road, but Pran had never been happier.
Pran nodded, and took a deep breath, relaxing his hand which he had involuntarily clenched into a fist, the edge of the pick pressing angry red lines into his palm. He massaged it slightly, then readjusted the guitar until it lay against his back, and with a small squeeze to Pat's hand, Pran let go and walked out of the music room, Pat right at his heels.
***
They were welcomed onto the stage with large cheers, and a couple of questioning glances from their bandmates, probably about how long they had taken, glances that Pat and Pran promptly ignored.
Pran walked over to the mic set up for him in the centre of the stage, and scanned the crowd. It was a large number, much more than they had expected, and Pran suddenly felt like throwing up. What if they messed it up? What if no one liked his song? They were performing an original, after all and that was always risky business.
Pran grit his teeth against the onslaught of his decidedly unhelpful thoughts, and turned around to smile at each of his bandmate, silently confirming if they were ready. And if he lingered on Pat a few beats longer than the others, it was no one else's business but their own.
Seeing that they were as ready as they could possibly be, Pran began strumming, opening the song, and listened as Pat and his other friends joined in seamlessly. By the time Pran began singing, his nerves had settled, and he felt as if he had been doing this forever. As if it was exactly what he was born to do. Well, this, and Pat.
Pran couldn't help turning around multiple times as they continued playing, seeking eye contact with Pat, smiling at the way Pat's eyes had gone small and squinty because of how wide he was smiling, and how a particular bead of sweat running from Pat's hair down his face almost made Pran sing the wrong lyrics. Pat always looked beautiful, he was unfairly attractive, and a yearning grew rapidly in Pran's gut. He wanted to touch Pat, feel his biceps contract under his hands as Pat played the drums, and feel the softness of his cheeks, as Pran caressed them and kissed them. At that moment, lost in the music, Pat had never looked hotter,
And the audience seemed to agree with him, if the way they were screaming his name was any indication. Pran grinned at that thought, fingers still busy playing their song by muscle memory, as he realised that they could scream all they wanted, but Pat was his. This was their love shining out through himself and Pat, flying in the air alongside the various notes Pran coaxed out of his guitar, perfectly complemented by the beats of the drums.
The final strains of the song slowly petered away, cameras flashing as the student council attempted to capture the moment in the best way possible, and the claps and cheers rose, demanding an encore, which the band was happy to provide. Finally, after playing the song twice in a row, Pran made his way off the stage with Pat and the others, putting away the instruments, high on joy and adrenaline.
With a knowing look at Pat, he walked off to the music room, saying that he would like to wipe the guitar down and pack it away before joining in the celebrations. And he did do all that, but only until he was pulled once again into familiar warm arms, and a breathless laugh escaped from Pat, brushing against his cheek gently.
"We did it, Pran, we did it!" Pat said, hugging him close, and jumping up and down in excitement. "Oh you were amazing, the best, better than the best!" As Pran opened his mouth to correct Pat, Pat suddenly interrupted, "I know thats not an actual thing, shut up." He pouted sadly, eyes twinking as he took in Pran trying, and failing to conceal a grin. "You know what I mean, Pran!"
They had stood there, arm in arm, only for a few heartbeats, when Pat sighed slightly. "They'll come searching for us again. We should go." He said, and before pulling away, he leaned right against Pran's side, lips brushing the shell of Pran's ear, which was rapidly becoming red. "I'll see you tonight, for my reward, Pran." Pat winked at him and walked away from the music room, leaving Pran smiling goofily at the doorway.
And why not? Pran was happy, really happy. He had a lot to look forward to. A few days without his parents around, a few days without the need of creeping around behind everyone's backs. Pran couldn't wait for it. That night couldn't come any sooner, and Pran, despite how anxious and impatient he was, felt that it might just be one of the happiest days in his life.
***
(To be continued)