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Chapter Text

"How do people get cursed?", a young and scared Pat asked once, clinging to his mother's arms and trembling.

His mother was no better off only an hour ago, but it seemed like her maternal instincts had taken over, as she was now gently rocking her child back and forth. "Ah", she said unintelligibly. Her eyes were filled with sorrow and many other emotions that a seven-year-old Pat could not decipher.

"It is said that, when a person does something really bad and refuses to see any fault in their actions, fate will punish them by making their bloodline suffer."

Young Pat found this terrible and unfair, so he only continued sobbing in his mother's arms until he fell asleep from the exhaustion of the day. Much later, once he got used to his predicament, he asked his father if maybe grandfather had done anything unforgivable to cause this mess. His father's expression only darkened as he gruffed, "How would I know?", and Pat stopped mentioning it ever again in front of his father. It was reasonable, he thought; what father would want to hear of his son's failure? Because truly, Pat would now forever fail at being normal. At being able to give his all. He would have to work doubly hard to be a filial son, not a hindrance. But all those thoughts were for later Pat.

For now, he would just have to deal.

° ° °

He learned to live with it, eventually. They went to quite a number of doctors to see if anything could be done, but curses were incredibly rare, and no medical research had any success so far. So he left only with a vaguely formulated sicknote that would allow him to tell teachers and future employees about a rare medical condition he had, and therefore would sometimes have to leave at random times. He used to tell his friends and classmates the same, and would sometimes use his sicknote to leave just because he felt like it - and to impress the other children. That was, until a rumor started about how his illness was a "pooping sickness", which in turn made him only leave when he really felt the curse come up (Pat for years felt justified in his belief that Pran started the rumor).

The curse itself was of... peculiar nature.

Pat had done his fair share of research and found that most curses were quite similar to his in the sense that all cursed subjects would- well.

Turn into animals.

Reading about other people's experiences was quite sobering, and made Pat feel incredibly grateful for the form he was stuck in, as he read about people turning into elephants and destroying apartments, or others turning into small insects that ended up being squashed to death by unsuspecting strangers. There was also the occasional fish or jellyfish, that died the first time the curse took effect.

Knowing all this, Pat tried to take his form in stride and quickly got a grip on himself. For the next couple of years, everything seemed manageable, and Pat had a list in his mind of backup plans for any scenario he and his family could think of, in case of a transformation at random places. At school? Just hide in an empty classroom and wait for Paa (they checked which room would be free each day so that Paa would know where to find him if he didn't come to pick her up from school).
At a friend's place? Tell them you're feeling sick and then wait outside in their garden or hidden in a bush until a family member comes to pick you up (he was forbidden from trying to get home on his own after what happened during his first transformation). At any public space? Same scenario as before.
It was only really troubling if Pat transformed while being outside alone. When he was ten, someone almost caught him to bring him to a kennel.

To Pat's immense relief, he started to feel transformations beginning a couple of minutes before they actually happened. This would often leave time to text Paa or his parents.

So by the time the admission tests for high school passed, Pat felt mostly unbothered by the whole curse business.

Which - in hindsight - maybe wasn't his smartest move.

° ° °

It happened the day they received their scores for the year, together with their admission test results. Most people in class were dreading this day - not Pat though.

Or rather, not Pat and Pran.

Both young teens were sitting in their seats, anticipating seeing who the winner would be this year. No, it wasn't just any year - due to the stakes of Highschool following now, this year was especially important. Not even prim and proper Pran could stop from fidgeting the whole time, as the teacher went around, handling every student their papers. When it was Pat's turn, he grabbed and immediately wrinkled his, looking for the score. Internally cheering, Pat leaned back with a self-satisfied smirk. With a glance into Pran's direction, he tried to asses the other's reaction, but he looked neither disappointed nor proud. Well. Whatever.

That didn't stop Pat from keeping the smirk off his face, even after class, when he suddenly found himself in front of Pran's seat. "Hey!" The other boy didn't even glance at him, as he started packing his pencil case and school books. His result paper was still on the table though, face down. Seizing his chance, Pat snatched the paper and turned around, so he could take a look before the other boy could steal it back.

"Ey, Pat! Don't crinkle it!"

Ignoring the other's protests, Pat quickly scanned the paper, his face dropping.

Pran's score was higher than his.

Apparently having seen Pat's crushed expression, Pran couldn't stop his own grin, much subtler than Pat's had been: "Maybe next year." Pat slammed the paper back down unto the other's table and stormed out of the classroom.

His father was furious.

Pat had rarely seen his father so upset - and he tried to understand. This was about education, not some secondary class or project or a minor test grade. And yet. He couldn't help the tightening of his chest, as he was being accused of slacking off and not caring about his future. Because Pat wanted to be a filial son, but he was also a stubborn kid. So after the berating, he found himself biking down the road, trying to blow off some steam.

In his anger and his frustration, he failed to realize that the tightening of his chest wasn't only his emotional turmoil anymore, but something else entirely.

It only dawned on him when he found himself hurling off his bike into a nearby field of grass, eyes reflexively pinched together, pain overriding all thoughts for an excruciatingly long moment. When he felt like the world wasn't spinning on its axis anymore, he tentatively opened one eye, then the other, to discover that he had landed in the grass close to a lake.

Ah, it was that lake. Pat rarely ever came here anymore.

Shaking his head, Pat made to get up, but his body disobeyed. Looking down, instead of being met with his two hands and arms, he saw two fiercely ginger-colored paws, black stripes crawling all over his furred body.

Great. This day truly couldn't become worse.
With a sigh - that to everyone else translated as an almost growled-out huff - Pat looked forlornly at his bike, then at his clothing that lay sprawled next to it. At least he didn't get stuck in his shirt this time. He'd have to pick up his stuff later. Luckily this area rarely had anyone walk by, so chances were high that Pat would return to both his phone and keys being in his pocket.
For a moment, Pat considered trying to claw out his phone and press the emergency call, to reach his parents. His GPS was always on, so they'd be able to easily find him, and he wasn't far from home anyway...

But then Pat thought back to his father's angered mood earlier, huffing in indignation. He'd be in highschool soon! Surely he was old enough to deal with this little thing by himself. He'd show his dad that he could be responsible and independent, and that he was not a hindrance.
With that in mind, Pat started making his way toward his house.

Rounding the corner that led up to his street, he was met with the sight of a bunch of kids playing with a ball in one of the gardens. They looked like they were only a couple of years younger than Pat himself. Suddenly, someone threw the ball too far, making it roll unto the street, so one of the kids had to jog after it. Finally reaching it, the boy bent down and - just as he was about to run back - spotted Pat who didn't have time to hide.

"Hey guys! Look, a cat!"

Feeling spooked, Pat retracted a couple of steps. He was still quite a bit away, and he contemplated just turning around and waiting till the kids all disappeared. But that could take a while, and his parents would get worried...

Before he had any time to react, the other kids ran up on the street too, ogling him as well. One of the kids pointed at him, laughing, "He looks like a tiger!" - "What, a tiger this small? He couldn't hurt a fly!" - "Let's see about that!" Suddenly, one of the kids grabbed something nearby - a stone, Pat realized, and threw it at him. Barely managing to doge, the small cat's heart began beating rapidly.

In hindsight, Pat would realize that he should have just run back where he came from, or into one of the other gardens to hide. Yet in that moment, Pat's instinct took over, and all he could think of was home home home as he started running forward, trying to make a beeline around the kids. He hadn't even reached them yet, as one of the stones hit his flank. Pat hissed loudly, baring his fangs at the kids while his heart was thumping wildly in his chest, his legs still moving as if his life depended on it.

May it was, came the startling realization a moment later.

"Hs hs hs, kitty kitty, come here!", one of the kids laughed, and Pat had a moment to think full of relief: I've passed them, now I just need to continue runni-, when the next stone hit him, right on his front paw, making his little body skitter across the road and fall.

Pat yowled loudly, more feeling the vibration of the kids' steps stomping on the ground, coming closer, than hearing them. This was it, he thought, attempting one last time to get up, and collapsing right after. This would be how he died. Ah, would he still turn back after he took his last breaths, or would he have to be buried in a cat's body?

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?!"

All thoughts coming to a halt, Pat's furred head swiveled around to the newcomer. What-?

"We were just playing!", one of the kids explained, now sounding unsure at the presence of someone older. Pat didn't dare look at them, his eyes only fixed on the person that was jogging up to him. "You call that playing? How about I tell your parents how you play, and you can explain to them how you almost killed my cat, huh?", Pran glared at them, and suddenly Pat found himself being picked up. It took him a second to realize that it was the same boy who was berating the other kids, that now straddled him in his arms. Huh?

"No, don't tell our parents! We're sorry!"

It looked like Pran wanted to retort something, yet when his movement seemed to jostle the cat's leg and made it meowl pathetically, he seemed to halt for a second. "If I see you playing stupid games like this again, I'll tell all of your parents, so you'll be grounded forever." With that, he turned around, quickly making his way towards his house.

Their houses.

For a second, Pat half expected his neighbor to walk towards Pat's gate before he realized that there was no reason for Pran to do so. Only when they reached Pran's front door did Pat catch up to reality. He started meowing like crazy.

"Shh, be quiet!", hissed Pran, yet he didn't seem as angry when he usually told Pat the same. It threw Pat off enough for him to shut up, as Pran started to gently wrap his jacket around him, leaving a hole on the downside that allowed Pat to breathe. The sound of a door opening followed, and Pat found himself holding his breath as he presumably entered Pran's house through the front door for the first time.

Pran started shuffling forward, and then into other directions so that Pat couldn't keep up until they reached a staircase.

"Ah, you're back Pran?"

The world halted, and Pat truly felt like a criminal. A very furry animal that wasn't here on its own accord, but still.

"Yes, I wanted to go to the park but Pat and his friends were already there."

Pat's ears perked up at the mention of his name, and he almost growled in indignation. What was that supposed to mean?! But then Pran's mother huffed, making him swallow all sounds. "The neighbor's kid? It's good you came back then, I bet he and his people were up to no good." With an audible sigh, she continued: "Go wash your hands and start on your homework. Dinner will be ready in a bit." With that, Pran continued upstairs again.

After the click of a door, the world suddenly became bright again. It made a hiss come out of the cat's throat, although aware of where he was, he tried to keep it down. Having adjusted to the new light, Pat looked up at Pran, who was frowning and looking at his bed. Pat's eyes widened. Did he-?

Then Pran went to his closet and took out a jacket that he sprawled on top of his bed, before carefully laying the creature in his hands on top. Pat wanted to snort and was lucky he couldn't. What a neat freak.

But then Pran's face was right in front of his, his expression being so... weird!

Pat thought he had never seen Pran look at him like this before. At a new pencil collection maybe, or possibly at the music player that he had gotten last Christmas, but not at... Pat. Then it clicked. Ah, it wasn't Pat who he was looking at so openly, it was a cat. Pat still felt wary.

Then Pran hummed.

"I won't hurt you. Let's see your injury, alright?"

He carefully raised his hands and moved it towards Pat, ever so slowly, as if to make sure Pat wasn't spooked. Remembering how the same boy had grinned about his higher score today, or how he had come first in last week's art project, or the prior week's swimming tournament, Pat had half a mind to bite him.

Then he recalled how the same boy had just helped him, and he kept still.

Pran's hands were gently roaming his body, and it felt so weirdly intimate that Pat felt like he wasn't in his own skin (which was partly the case). One of Pran's fingers lightly pressed down on Pat's left front leg, and Pat involuntarily hissed and retracted a bit in his body. Pran momentarily pulled away, now inspecting his leg from afar. "I don't think it looks broken", he hummed to himself, and only now did Pat dare look down himself. Truly, it didn't feel as horrible as something that's broken should feel. Hesitantly, he tried to sit up on all fours, and while it pained and elicited a hiss out of him, it wasn't impossible. Glancing at the other boy, it seemed like Pran was just studying him.

Then the boy scratched his neck, looking somewhat sheepish. "I actually don't know anything about cats. I want to bring you to school tomorrow, and give you to one of the teachers, so that they can bring you to a vet." His voice was quiet - because of his parents, Pat argued - but there was also something else. He seemed so... soft. Slowly reaching into his back pocket, Pran retracted his phone and started typing something. His gaze was concentrated, like when he was in the middle of writing an exam or drawing something. Then his eyes slightly lit up, and he stood up, spooking Pat a bit.

"I'll be right back with something for you to eat." He then disappeared.

After a couple of seconds, Pat's head whipped to the window, and his stomach dropped: It was closed. He'd never be able to open it with his little paws. His parents must already be worried sick by now! He couldn't possibly try to run out of Pran's door when he came in, could he? No, he'd still have to somehow open the front door. Maybe if another window was open...

While Pat mulled over how to escape, the door opened again and Pran emerged with two small plates. Looking down at cat Pat, he hesitated, then put the plates on the floor. Apparently deciding that no, even an injured cat wasn't allowed to mess up his whole bed, Pran then picked up the cat with the jacket, and then placed it in front of the food. Pat curiously peaked into the plated: There was one with milk, and another one that had what seemed like chicken on one side, and apparently carrots on the other.

Pat was contemplating whether he should continue panicking or just eat what was offered when he suddenly felt like a balloon was being inflated in his chest.

Panic. It was definitely time to panic.

Desperately looking to the window, the cat couldn't stop the meowl that was escaping him, as he felt himself getting closer and closer to transforming. It was probably only a minute or two now. He couldn't just transform in his rival's room! He would know about his deepest and most vulnerable secret! He-- Pat startled.
Pran would see him naked.

Yet before he could completely lose his mind, a knock came from the door, followed by a male voice: "Pran, it's time for dinner."

Startled, Pran - who had at some point sat across from the cat - stood up, calling: "I'll be downstairs in a moment!"

When his father's steps seemed to reach the staircase, Pran stepped to the door, then turned around one last time: "I'll be back in a bit." And he smiled.

Not like he did when he was proud of himself, or when he got praise from the teacher or won in a competition with Pat.

It was a private, indulgent smile that left Pat speechless for a second.

Then Pran left the room, and only moments later Pat found himself sitting naked on Pran's winter jacket, chicken and carrot scattered to the side (he luckily didn't land on the milk). Blinking, Pat took a moment to gather himself, before hastily getting up and fleeing through the window.

° ° °

Much later - after visiting the doctor and confirming that his arm was sprained; after having his mother pick up the things by the river - Pat finds himself lying in bed, every now and then thinking of the neighbor kid's stupid face.

Great.

Now he owed him twice.

° ° °

The next day, before class started, a small gathering of teens had found themselves around Pat's table, all asking curious questions about what happened to him (he had a couple of scratches covering his body, that could be seen on his face and arms, and ankles, aside from the obvious cast for his sprain. Since it was his left arm, Pat was allowed to go to school with lots of begging.

Before he could form a clever and heroic reply, one of his classmates guessed: "Maybe he got into a really bad fight with Pran." A girl next to him smacked his head, scolding him about how that was stupid, Pran looked fine after all, how could he be so stupid?

At the mention of the other's name Pat couldn't help but to glance at the other, who was now also looking up, nose scrunched and brow furrowed. They held eye contact for a moment, before Pran looked away, visibly in a bad mood. "I bet he just tried to stupidly climb a tree and fell out."

To Pat, it all felt like whiplash. Sure, Pran didn't look or behave any differently than usual; in fact, he was like that every day, except... well, except for yesterday. Did Pran just really like animals? Or did he treat any people he liked that way?

Does he behave that way with his friends when Pat isn't around?

"Hey Pat! What are you mulling about? Or did you really fall from a tree?"

Returning to reality, Pat quickly waved his friend off, and went into a long tirade about how he chased a cat away from his sister that wouldn't stop hissing at her, and then followed him until he climbed a tree and then fell out when trying to climb it down (Pran snorted. Well, sorry Pran, but I didn't have time to think of a new cover-up story! I'm still a hero!)

Pat couldn't bring himself to be upset though, just like he couldn't help but constantly glance at the neighbor's kid throughout the day. When Pran wasn't aware that Pat was watching, his face didn't seem as tense as it usually did. It confused Pat. Once, he saw Pran doodle something on his paper after having already finished the assignment, and for a split second, it looked like he smiled.

It took Pat a moment to realize that he had also started smiling before he quickly schooled his expression.

° ° °

Over the years, their parents had come to a silent agreement: In the first half of summer break, Pat's family would go on vacation, and in the second half, Pran's would. It wasn't so much of an agreement as it was a coincidence. Maybe it also wasn't exactly a vacation by anyone's standard. The weekend after school ended, Pat and his family would go visit their grandparents on his mother's side for around two weeks, since they were living quite far away and therefore couldn't see them a lot. Since Pat could remember, they had always insisted that the Jindapats come to visit as soon as they were free. So naturally, the Siridechawats never left during that time, claiming the territory. Every time Pat returned, they'd see the neighbor's gate being shut and all blinds closed - somehow his father had found out that they would always leave a day before the Jindapats returned. "See, son? They're always copying what we are doing." When he was younger, Pat had just vigorously nodded. Now he secretly thought that they were doing them all a service by waiting with their vacation until the very last minute so that everyone could enjoy some peace and quiet.

Pat also realized early on that peace and quiet were quite boring.

This year was no different. As it was, Pat didn't see Pran pretty much all summer. When the new semester began, everything was normal, just like it always was. They were fighting (in sports, in class, in anything), and diligently tried to outplay each other. Pat's cast was long since gone, and with that, so was the reminder of Pran being so... un-Pran-like.

It was actually a few months into the new school term - and into being a highschooler - that it happened again: The bell signaling lunch break had just rung, signaling for Pat and his friends to storm out of the classroom. Today was Wednesday, and Wednesdays the cafeteria was always especially full. The boys had just managed to get in line, when - out of the blue - Pat felt the tightening of his chest. Mentally cursing, he excused himself and ran back into the main building, heading up the stairs till the third floor. He almost reached the door, when he felt himself shrink, smaller and smaller, until he found himself tapping around on all fours. Annoyed, Pat hoped the door to the music room wouldn't be completely closed, all the while knowing his chances were slim.

Therefore it came as a surprise when the door was slightly adjacent.

Even more so when Pat snuck into the room and saw who was inside.

His surprise apparently didn't stay quiet (he was much more expressive in his cat body), since the boy's head whipped around to stare at the cat, first in guilt, then surprise, and then confusion. Pat felt rooted to the spot as he stared at his lifelong rival. The gears were visibly turning in Pran's head, until he blurted: "You're that tiger-colored cat, right?"

Pat stayed silent.

Pran shook his head as if scolding himself for asking a cat of all creatures a question. Pat wanted to laugh at him, but the familiar frown on Pran's face disappeared, and once more, his face did a weird thing that was unfamiliar to Pat. "How'd you get here, hm?" The boy then slowly slid down from the windowsill he had been sitting on, discarding his bags - eating lunch, Pat realized - and slowly stepped up to the cat in front of him.

The cat that was actually Pat. Who was his rival. Who he severely disliked and who disliked him in return because his family sucked. Really, Pat should turn on his tail (literally), and run.

Oh, his father would kill him right now.

Instead of doing what his family would expect of him, Pat decided to play the part of a languid cat, and passed Pran - who had stopped coming closer at the cat's moving - to jump up the windowsill, staring curiously at the boy's food. It seemed like rice and some weird veggie sticks and something coated with breadcrumbs. Meat, probably. Pat took a curious sniff.

"No, don't eat that silly. You'll get sick."

Snarling at the audacity of calling him 'silly', Pat turned to the other, who was now suddenly only a few steps away from him. Startled, he let the snarl stop halfway through. Pran hesitantly sat back on the windowsill and began eating while watching Pat. He looked almost... No, that couldn't be right.

"So? Are you following me or something?"

No, there was just no other way to describe it. Pran definitely looked fond. His eyes were a little smaller and wrinkled, and his lips turned into a tiny smile, and... were those dimples?! How unfair, Pat didn't have any dimples!

Pat meowed loudly.

This seemed to entice a chuckle out of Pran, who suddenly raised his hand, and before Pat even realized what was happening, started patting the cat. This time, Pat really wanted to bite him, but then the other managed to scratch just the right spot behind his ear, and startled, Pat had to admit that he was purring.

His father would absolutely murder him in cold blood.

Before Pat had the chance to grieve his young life any more, he caught Pran turning to the room in his peripheral vision. He still kept scratching his head (and Pat decided that he couldn't help his cat instincts, and one time wouldn't cause any harm), but now his eyes looked forlornly into the corner. Pat followed his look, catching sight of a couple of guitars standing around.

"I've accidentally stumbled into the music room when looking for a quiet place to spend lunch break in", Pran started, and Pat looked at him bewildered before realizing the guy was talking to him, "and have been trying my hands on the guitar since then. I think I really want to play, I've even saved up some money to buy my own guitar. I just...", Pran sighed and looked down at the cat, and Pat almost startled from how vulnerable he looked, "don't know how to explain it to my mae. I doubt she'll like it."

What happens next was something that Pat swore to take to his grave: Still purring from the continuous head scratches, he moved forward, nuzzling into the other's side as if to tell him Cheer up! Hands closed around his torso, and suddenly he found himself in the other's lap. Pat felt outrage bubble up inside his little cat torse, ready to scratch and snark, until he looked up to see Pran wear an incredibly intimate and sorrowful smile.

Pat stilled, reluctantly laying back, while accepting the petting as payment for his cooperation.

They spent the rest of lunch break like that, right up until Pat felt the inflating of his insides. Spooked, he jumped up and ran out of the room to search for a quiet corner, only stopping once to gather the clothing he lost with his mouth.

He'd just pretend the past hour never happened.

° ° °

A couple of days later, Pat loudly proclaimed that he got a drumset from his parents and that he'd soon be the best musician out there. He would enter every music competition that high school had to offer, and he'd raise his GPA by leaps and bounds.

A week later - when Pat overheard Pran talking to one of their classmates that joined the music club - Pran softly admitted to having recently bought himself his own guitar, and that he'd try to represent his school well in competitions.

° ° °

By some stroke of luck, Pat and Pran kept crossing paths over the course of the year whenever Pat was his furred self. Sometimes it would be at school. Other times it would be in their neighborhood. Once Pran managed to stumble upon him in the mall, which was a fairly stressful ordeal for Pat. Having Pran pick him up and take him to their neighborhood after hanging around with him for half an hour to wait for a non-existent owner comforted Pat immensely though.

It was in the middle of their first year in high school that Pat realized their meet-ups had become less of a coincidence and more of a seeking-out. That fact became glaringly obvious as Pat found himself climbing through the neighbor's house window, looking for the other boy.

So what if Pat in his cat form these days was sprinting to the music room whenever he happened to transform during lunch break in hope of seeing the other boy? Or if Pat found himself yowling through their neighborhood whenever he transformed in that area, in the hopes that Pran was close and would come to take him to his room and feed and pet him? It was perfectly reasonable, really.

No, really. Whenever Pat turned into a cat, his instincts changed into something more animalistic. If he thought something looked edible, he'd try it; if he itched, he'd just use the next best tree to scratch himself; if someone wanted to pet him, he'd immediately comply and purr, fully satisfied for that moment. If he felt threatened, he would not hesitate to harm, even when human Pat was the tiniest bit more reasonable.
Logically, since Pran saved him a couple of years ago, his cat self would now forever feel safe and grateful around the guy, and seek out the other's presence.

It was only natural.

"Sĕuua! What are you doing here?!"

The nickname was one that Pran had given him somewhere in their first year of highschool, as the cat seemingly wouldn't leave him alone. And it felt weird to continuously call him cat, and Pran rarely ever called him cutesies like kitten or kitty (it had both happened exactly once before Pran had frowned and discarded them. A week later his new, and pretty fitting name had been born.).

Ignoring the guy's panicked hissing, Pat just lazily made his way to the bed before jumping up and patting the bedding, as if to make sure it was soft enough. Then he plopped himself down, purring contentedly. Pran spent a moment gaping at him, before exasperatedly shaking his head, and then his tell-tale fond smile made its appearance. Well, it was tell-tale for cat Pat at least, and for a moment, the cat wondered why he couldn't ever get that smiley when he was in his normal body. He quickly shook off that train of thought.

Not a moment later, Pran got something out of his cupboard, before he carefully climbed onto his bed, lying down to play on his phone.

That won't do, Pat thought, as he started quietly meowing. Getting no reaction, he decided to climb unto the other's chest, and apparently misstepped as Pran straightened up and started wheezing, all the while holding the cat in his lap to not accidentally throw him off his bed. "Okay, okay, I get it. You'd die without my attention, wouldn't you?" Rolling his eyes, Pran pulled something from his pocket which turned out to be some cat snacks. It was Pat's favorite flavor.

(There would always be a bowl of cat food at home in case he got hungry as a cat, and most of the time Paa or his mother would fill it up. It was always the same flavor because it was simply a thing of practicality. Pat never complained, because why would he? But then Pat had once seen a glimpse of different cat snack packages in Pran's backpack during history class, and the next thing he knew, he got free treats until they established his favorite.)

As a way of answering, Pat nuzzled his snout into the arm with the snacks. Pran let out a breathy laugh and opened the package to start feeding him. His other hand soon found himself on Pat's back, rhythmically stroking his back. When Pat finished, Pran went back to his phone, this time seriously, and Pat decided to let it be. He contented himself with just sticking his nose into Pran's sweater and relaxing.

Which was another thing that Pat recently had come to realize: Pran's scent.

Pat had no idea how he never noticed before - hell, the first time they wrestled each other to the ground in kindergarten, he should have immediately realized - but Pran had a unique and absolutely mesmerizing scent about himself. It took some time to figure out that it wasn't just some perfume or deodorant, but in fact, Pran's natural odor. Pat was quite jealous. If he could, he'd bottle up that smell so he could savor it for infinity.
Out of curiosity, Pat had once tried to sniff Pran while being his usual self. His troubles had earned him a smack to his head and a bewildered and pissed Pran, but the result was clear: Nope, it was not just a cat thing. Pran always smelled great.

In moments like these, it was quite easy for Pat to admit some things, in the comfort of his little cat brain:

Being like this was really nice.

The sky was blue.

And Pran was actually a pretty great guy.

° ° °

With his newfound knowledge - and the fact that both he and Pran got chosen to play together in a band for the Christmas concert - Pat decided to actually put an effort into being nice to the neighbor's kid. To his great surprise, this turned out to be easier than expected. He had expected for the other to metaphorically bare his teeth and fight against Pat's friendship - yet he was only met with mild levels of surprise and suspicion. It was at that moment that Pat realized that maybe, just maybe, they hadn't quite hated each other for quite some time now. Sure, they still competed for the first spot in everything, and Pat loved getting on Pran's nerves more than anything, but...

Whenever Pat lost, he felt maybe a little bit disappointed in himself, yet he couldn't remember when the last time was that he felt upset with Pran about it. He had always chalked it up to the whole cat business, but now Pat couldn't help but wonder whether the feeling might be mutual.

Pat grinned to himself.

In just a couple of weeks, they both had managed to sit together in the music room, or outside at the tables, or in the cafeteria (the classroom and gym still seemed to be reserved for competing and keeping up the charade of being rivals), without arguing or breaking into a fight.

There was only one problem.

Pat had never been a big advocate for personal space. Paa or his friends would attest to that. Hell, even Pran knew this, yet the nature of his closeness to Pran changed. Instead of pushing and making the boy, they would just sit next to each other and sometimes brush thighs or arms. This in itself still seemed pretty normal to Pat - they were just behaving like friends would, right? - the only problem was that at the most random of times, Pat would suddenly have urges.

Cat urges.

Sure, even in the past, Pat would sometimes find himself using his body how he would as a cat, but it was only minor things, like licking into his glass when drinking, or following a shiny reflection with his eyes before snapping out of it. This time, it was entirely different.

They would sit together, hunched over notes or a list of song ideas or just talk in each other's space, until Pat suddenly leaned towards Pran, ready to nuzzle his head into the other's neck, or to sprawl on his lap, or to just inhale his smell.

It never got that far, as Pran would shove him away with a bewildered expression, thinking the other was messing with him in his weird, inexplicable ways.

Pat would laugh it off, and try not to blush out of embarrassment.

Seriously, this needed to stop.

° ° °

Pat forgot how lonely boring it could be to be stuck in his cat body.

This used to be the ideal situation: He was home, he was safe, and his schedule for the day was free anyway. He could just lounge or nap on his bed and be content. Knowing all that. Pat couldn't stop himself from glancing toward his open balcony. It took all his willpower to look away again.

In the end, it didn't matter anyway. After all, whenever Pat transformed, he was bound to act on instinct.

So it shouldn't have come as a surprise when - the next thing he knew - he found himself at Pran's window. To his surprise, it was adjacent, and letting the full moon light up the whole room. His mother must have opened it for the night to air the room out.

Inside, Pat stopped short at seeing the decor: It all looked much like it usually did. Unlike during his whole life, the fairy lights were turned off. It made the room look darker and the shadows grander. Pat felt his little shoulders hunching in on himself, as he slowly tip-toed on all four paws towards the bed, before carefully jumping on top. There were no blankets or pillow, and if he had to guess, the mattress would probably be bare though. Luckily these people had always had weird habits, so at least the usual comforter was still there.

It smelled like Pran.

If Pat were human, he might have whimpered. Then again, if he was human, he probably wouldn't be in this room right now. As it was, he only let out quiet yowls as he pressed his snout into the comforter, as if it could somehow replace the emptiness around him. As if suddenly two hands would appear out of thin air, ready to pet him silly.

They didn't.

For a split second, Pat entertained the idea of just staying here, napping, and ignore all consequences.

Then he heard footsteps coming upstairs. Pran's mother would probably come to close the window.

Taking a last sniff, Pat leaped from the bed and out the window.

° ° °

It had gotten easier over time.

That didn't mean Pat had stopped sneaking into Pran's room when he was a cat and the other's windows were open. But it would happen less and less frequently (at least that's what he was convinced of), so Pat counted it as a win. Especially during his last year of highschool and summer break, Pat was also quite busy with finals and pre-studying (a habit that he never quite shook off, even tho there was no one he had to beat anymore) and making acquaintances. Around three months ago, during an incredibly adventurous and tasking journey (they were trying to hit on the same girl, but she explained to them that she was romantic, so they ended up mourning their loss together), Pat had met Korn, and ever since then, the two got along quite well.

When university started, Pat had decided to tell Korn about his curse.

"Oh damn, sorry to hear that. My uncle's cursed too. Poor guy turns into a mouse every other day, and yet refuses to give away James, his cat. Hope you have it better?"

"It's actually a cat. I also transform less, maybe every other week."

Korn nodded, patted him on the shoulder, and told him to call him up whenever he needed to get out of trouble. They then went on to discuss his uncle's great-great grandmother who apparently caught her son getting intimate with another man, which made her cast him out of the family, never seeing the wrong in her actions.

And having Korn know was really helpful. He had someone to pick him or his clothes up whenever he transformed on campus and didn't have to make excuses for when he felt he was about to transform. Soon enough, Korn was Pat's number one emergency contact for cat-related business. Even though he seemed rough on the outside - much like Pat - Korn didn't shy away from giving Pat the affection that his cat self needed, whether it be scratching, petting, cuddling, or feeding.

It never felt quite the same, but yeah. Pat was confident to say that it had gotten easier over time.

Until someone kicked him in the chest behind the school building.

° ° °

Pat couldn't quite believe that Pran was back.

And he attended the same university as him.

Really, the engineering student would've been quite ecstatic, if the other guy hadn't been so eager to literally punch him in the face. Were they really back at square one? Whatever. He still owed Pran. And Pat was an honorable guy, after all, so he'd repay him. Even if that meant having to find Pran before his friends did.

"Where did he go?!"

"Let's split!"

Pat's heart was thumping wildly as he recognized Mo's voice. Shit. At least that meant Pran must be near too. So Pat started running. It felt incredibly exhausting, more than usual, and like his lungs were constricting. It took him too long to realize that this wasn't just the exertion of running, but when it finally dawned on him, Pat already stuck his little striped head out of a pile of clothes. Truly, horrible timing. In that case, he'd have to find Korn first. At least his best friend would abort his mission if he found Pat in this state.

With that in mind, little cat Pat strode forward and around the next corner, only to be almost overrun.

"Shit! What-?" The voice came to an immediate halt. "You- Sĕuua?!" Staring at the cat, Pran muttered to himself: "I'm truly going insane."

Before Pat could hiss in indignation, other steps came running from around the corner, halting upon seeing Pran. "Guys! I got-" Korn's voice broke off as he made eye contact with Pat. "Uh." Pat was still trying to come up with a way that could signal Korn to stop the chase when he felt two strong arms lift him up, and then the world was shaking.

"Hey! Stop running! Put that cat down!"

Desperately, Pat shouted at Pran to stop, yet only yowling came out. After what felt like a literal rollercoaster, Pran finally stopped escaping, as he seemed to hit a dead end. Korn caught up with them fast enough, huffing: "I won't hurt you! Ju- Just give me the cat!" Pat felt himself being pressed closer to his friend's rival's chest, and he heard the other's heart thumping wildly in his chest.

"You gonna beat up a cat, or what?"

Korn only raised his arms defensively. "It's actually my friend's cat, and I'm supposed to look out for him."

A huffed laugh, snarky and angry, escaped Pran: "Right, so the cat that's been roaming my neighborhood and school, following me around for years just happens to be your friend's cat?" His own words seemed to dawn on him, as his grip on Pat turned almost painful. "No. Don't tell me-"

"It's Pat's cat."

Korn looked equally as flabbergasted as Pran, as he suspiciously squinted at the cat in the architecture guy's arms.

"Pat has a cat?!" Pat would've laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. He would very much like to wake up now, thank you. The only thing that could make this whole situation worse would be if turned back right then and there in Pran's arms.

"How do I know you're saying the truth?"

Not being able to deal with the imaginary of suddenly falling butt-naked on Pran, Pat decided that enough was enough, and this was his cue. Meowing like crazy, he started wiggling and leaning towards Korn. Understanding the gesture, Pran carefully lowered the cat to the ground, where he immediately sprinted towards Korn's waiting arms. "Uh", Korn stammered awkwardly, "thank you? I, uh. Gotta go." Pat only chanced a small look at Pran's lost and flabbergasted expression, before Korn started jogging away, searching the ground for a uniform in the meantime.

"So you've never seen him before, huh?"

Pat definitely had some explaining to do. After that, he'd have to ask the school secretary where Pran's room was.

° ° °

"You say that they are, quote-unquote, okay with us being friends?"

"Yep. They thought it was really cute how you were ready to defend my cat. Oh, they now also know that we're neighbors."

Pran groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "Fantastic." Pat grinned cheekily, as he hummed: "Well, that one's one you", which earned him a glare. "Anyway, can I come in now?"

"Why?"

"Because we can be friends now!"

"We're not friends."

Pat moped. "Why not? Our parents aren't around. It'd be just like that one story, with Riam and Kwa-"

The door was abruptly shut in his face.

(It did nothing to dampen Pat's mood.)

° ° °

Pran eventually started to loosen up some, by being nicer and more polite and even accepting Pat into his room.
("Ai'Pat! Pat! No, I- you don't just barge into others' rooms! Paaat. Stop that. You're sweaty! Leave, you stink.")

They hung out. If one of them got take-out, they'd bring enough for the other too. Pat gave Pran his headphones, after admittedly stepping on his old ones. Things were going overall smoothly.

Then Pat forgot the keys to his dorm. A half-baked plan to convince Pran to let him sleepover formed in his mind, when an unsettling tightening in his chest wiped the grin from his face. Well shit. Cursing, Pat grabbed his phone to message Korn so he could come and pick him up. He received a reply, and not a second later, Pat felt the world around him growing in size, as he stepped on familiar paws. Already feeling annoyed at not being able to see Pran, his mood grew increasingly worse when he heard the elevator doors ping open on this floor, and an all-too-familiar voice talking. Panicking, Pat grabbed his shorts and shirt between his teeth and dragged them next door, making it seem like it was their mess. He then hastily retreated to his own door, pressing against it in the hopes that he'd stay unrecognized.

To his great dismay, Pran's voice immediately halted once he came close enough, looking at the cat with wide eyes.

"Sorry Wai, I need to hang up now. See you tomorrow."

Kneeling down, a small smile ghosted against the edges of Pran's lips, and Pat's chest ached because he missed it. "So you're actually Pat's, huh?" Pran started mindlessly scratching Pat's head, eliciting a satisfied purr from him. "What are you doing out here anyway?" Frowning, Pran tucked his phone away and straightened to knock harshly on the door. Pat immediately missed the contact.

Knocking a second time, this time louder and still receiving no response, Pran frowned and tsk'ed. "Ai'Pat, you idiot." Pat felt that he didn't mind being called an idiot, as Pran gathered him up in his arms, and went to open his own door. Pat's been over plenty of times so far, but when he was over, it was always loud and chaotic. This time, Pat could only hear the quiet breathing of the other as he crossed the room to his bedroom, turning on the lights there.

Actually, Pat felt quite illegal as Pran placed him carefully on his bed. He hadn't been allowed here yet.

Disappearing back in the main room, Pran returned with a bowl of some sort of cooked meat. Pat felt a great sense of déjà-vû as Pran intermittently looked between the bowl and the bad in a conflicted manner. Against all expectations, Pran put the bowl carefully in front of him on the comforter of the bed, before disappearing into the bathroom.

Determining that there was no way that Pat could escape anyway, he decided to be polite and eat the offered food as carefully as possible. He had long since realized that Pran never really got mad with his cat-self, but he also knew that Pran would be sad and mopey if his things got messy. Pat had just taken the last piece of meat into his mouth when the bathroom door opened once more, and if Pat had ever wondered whether cats could choke, he knew the answer now.

Pran entered the room with only a towel covering up his lower half, his skin still glistening and slightly pink from the shower he had just taken; his hair stuck a bit to all sides, as if having been rubbed dry with a towel, yet droplets kept falling down his shoulders and chest.

Pat gulped and quickly averted his eyes.

He really had to get out of here! He was basically ogling his friend without his knowledge! Surely this was a breach of privacy.
Pat almost wished he'd change back right now so that they'd at least be on more equal ground.

Disobeying his orders, his eyes turned to glance at Pran again. He had exchanged the towel for a pair of boxers now while standing with his back to Pat. Apparently the tower fell down in the process, as it was lying on the ground, and Pran made to pick it up, lowering himself lower and--

Pat yowled and turned around, trying to smother his face in the pillow.

Only for the pillow to smell intensely of Pran.

Pat felt like dying.

Having noticed the commotion, Pran turned around, brow creasing in concern, as he started walking closer to Pat, still only wearing boxers--

Rapid knocking on the door - courtesy of Korn - saved Pat from his misery.

What the heck was wrong with him?!

° ° °

"I suppose I should call your cat by his actual name then." Pran lowered his eyebrows a bit like he always did when he was contemplating something. "Or her."
It's a him", Pat laughed, imagining a younger Pran trying to look at his testicles to check his gender. Maybe Pran took his laughter as scrutinizing, as he rolled his eyes and huffed, "What's his name, then?"

Pat's thoughts came to a halt as the question truly sunk in, and he realized that he liked it when Pran called him by the name he give him. So he blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "He doesn't have a name!"

Silence stretched across the corridor, as Pran stared at him bewilderedly. "You... you've had this cat for literal years now and you- you never thought to name him?"

Pat only shrugged helplessly, and couldn't keep the grin of his face when Pran muttered disbelievingly: "Paa should've gotten the cat..." Then, a bit louder, with a glint in his eyes: "No wonder your cat keeps following me around if its owner sucks so much." Pat tried to get Pran into a headbutt but got pushed away by a laughing Pran, who countered with tickling. It went on for a while before both of them had to lean back against their respective doors, out of breath and huge grins plastered on their faces.

Something occurred to Pat then.

"Wait a moment!"

He scrambled up and disappeared into his room, only to re-emerge a minute later with a mostly black suitcase in hand. He swore he could hear Pran's breath hitch the moment he recognized what's been brought.

"My guitar!"

Pran grabbed the casing, taking out his old instrument, and staring at it in wonder. Then he looked up, and Pat felt like the air got knocked out of him. The way that Pran looked at him was so full of adoration... Pat had to avert his gaze, looking down on himself that he was just skin and bones and hands and feet. He then looked up at Pran who was strumming gently on the strings.

Pat smiled.

They bantered a bit more, and yet it felt different from how it usually did. Pat decided that he liked this change.

° ° °

Not an hour later found Pat scratching at Pran's door and meowing.

It didn't take long for the owner of the dorm to open the door, and - with a fond eyeroll at Pat's door - let the cat inside. Pat sprinted into Pran's bedroom and scanned the inside; to his immense luck, he happened to find his target.

"Sĕuua, stop, that's dirty-!"

Heedless of all warnings, Pat comfortably nestled into the basket of dirty laundry.

To his great dismay, Pran apparently drew the line at stinky old clothing, even for the cat he liked to coddle, as he picked Pat up and carried him over to his bed. At the responding growling, Pran only quirked an eyebrow, before going back to the closet and taking the shirt on the top of the mountain. Lifting it in the air and turning it around to check that it was acceptable, Pat was able to read the 'FRIEND' and 'UNFRIEND' printed on the front and back.

Soon Pran returned to the bed, sat down next to the cat, and created a little pillow out of the shirt. Pat made to move over but was picked up again, to be held in the air right in front of Pran's grinning face, dimples fully on display. He seemed so happy today. Was it maybe because of the guitar-?

Suddenly Pran pressed the little body closer to his face and peppered him with kisses.

Pat blinked.

And blinked again.

When he blinked next, he found himself on top of the shirt, and Pran rummaging in the room next door while humming an unfamiliar tune. Pat let out a pathetic meowl that could barely be heard, as his brain kicked in again, replaying what just happened. The soft feeling of Pran's lips in his fur, the warm puffs of breath against his scalp. The fluttery feeling in his chest.

Not giving him time to process what just happened, Pran returned with a packet of cat snacks in his hand and sat criss-cross in front of the cat.

The cat that he had just littered in smooched.

With a rustle, the bag was opened and Pat opened his mouth as if on auto-drive. Only when Pran used his other hand to stroke his head and back again, did Pat manage to relax somewhat.

"You know, your owner totally sucks."

Hey! I'm right here! Pat looked up indignantly because he might let Pran get away with a lot of stuff, but even he had his pride and-

"If only that could make me like him any less."

All complaints that Pat had in mind died down at once.

° ° °

Suddenly, Ink was back in their life.

And Pat saw her and couldn't help but smile. Because, really.
Ink was nice.
Ink was pretty.
Ink was funny.
Ink was easy.

He remembered old crushes and wishes, causing feelings to rebubble in his chest. Then he tried identifying those feelings - and thought it is love. Then he saw Pran pass by, sparing him a secret smile - and he wasn't so sure anymore.

If there is one thing that Pat always held unto, then it was being honest. Honest with himself and honest with others. He wanted to do what felt right to him because he knew he would never feel good in his own skin otherwise. For most of his life, the engineering student knew more or less what he wanted. A bike for his sixth birthday. A new phone for Christmas. To be a filial son. To beat the kid next door. So doing what he wanted was never much of a struggle. Yet this time, the problem already began with naming what it was that he wanted. That's when Pat came up with a plan to find a solution:

He'd follow his instincts.

With a simple plan in mind, he waited for the familiar feeling, before texting both Pran and Ink to meet him in the music room of the university right now, if possible.

Barely managing to reach the storage room with the slightly broken door, Pat felt himself transform. Discarding his clothing and not waiting another moment, Pat bolted to the music room. There, both Pran and Ink were sitting next to each other on the ground, leaning against the wall under the window. After coming slightly closer, Ink took notice of him and cooed. Pran also turned around, not hiding the smile that threatened to spill well.

"Ah, it's Pat's cat."

Ink stretched out her arms toward him while still addressing Pran: "I never knew he had a cat. It looks cute though." Pat preened at the compliment and found himself easily wandering into Ink's outstretched hands that pull him into her lap and immediately start petting him. Pran hummed in acknowledgment. They continued talking, but Pat's thoughts were elsewhere: Surely this was proof enough of his feelings, right? If his cat form chose Ink, then surely his instincts and feelings couldn't be more cleared than that.

Mind settled, Pat purred. He'd confess to Ink the next chance he'd get, and hope for her to reciprocate his feelings.

He only half-heartedly listened to their conversation. Right now, they seemed to be talking about life in a dorm, and the freedoms and independence that came with it. Pat must have involuntarily made a sound, as the other two stopped their conversation to glance at him. Humming to whatever Ink had said before, Pran stretched out his arm to scratch Pat behind his ears.

"Huh. Maybe I should get myself a cat too."

Someone hissed loudly, and it took Pat a second to realize it was him who was hissing, while his body was already on the move. Distinctly, he heard Ink laugh: "I think someone disapproves."

Pran also let out a breathy laugh as he leaned down closer to look into Pat's eyes - Pat startled as he realized he was in Pran's lap - eyes twinkling mischievously. "Is someone jealous?"

Oh.

° ° °

When Pran left him on the rooftop, Pat felt his heart crumbling.

There was also another sensation there, and Pat thought: Fine. Let's do it this way then.

° ° °

Pran could hear scratching on his door.

At first he opted to ignore it, thinking it was one of Pat's silly schemes to make him open the door to talk to him when there was clearly nothing to talk about. Whatever just happened was a mistake - albeit a beautiful one - and if their parents knew- if Pran's mother found out-

He wiped his tears away for the umpteenth time.

The scratching didn't stop, now instead being accompanied by miserable yowling.

I understand how you feel, Pran thought, but ultimately decided to at least check. Knowing Pat, he might as well have disappeared after the prior disaster to get drunk or to complain to Ink or whatever, while having once again locked his poor cat outside. It wouldn't be the first time. And just because Pran was suffering, didn't mean Sĕuua had to as well. So he checked the peephole, hoping with every might that Pat wasn't just hiding two meters away, as he opened the door.

Sĕuua immediately bolted into the room. For the first time in probably his whole life, Pran couldn't bring himself to smile at the sight. It reminded him too much of the guy that just fulfilled and shattered all his dreams on a rooftop.

Ignoring the cat, Pran made his way into bed, hiding under the covers and being unable to stop the tears from flowing. Not long after, he felt a small creature slide in on the other side of the bed. Reluctantly, Pran turned around to stare at it, not even bothering to wipe his face. The cat considered him for a moment; it then surged up to lick his nose. It did startle Pran, but not enough to scold the animal, or smile. "He knows we can't do that, right?", he murmured quietly, asking the cat as if it could give any answers. "Never mind that my friends still hate his guts, he knows our families. He knows how things ended last time. Why start something when you already know how it ends? I just-", he hiccuped, "I can't do this again. I can't leave everything behind again just for a what if. Not even for Pat."

Quietly, Sĕuua crawled closer and disappeared under the covers, until to re-appear a moment later snuggled snugly to Pran's chest. It made the boy cry even harder. He was so exhausted. He couldn't even mourn his first love without holding unto something that was essentially Pat's.

He honestly lost all concept of time on how long he laid like that, he only felt his eyelids starting to grow heavier by the minute. It would be nice, to just have this day finally end. Sĕuua started wiggling in his arms, yet Pran couldn't bring himself to throw him out of bed. That was, until the wiggling increased, and Pran seriously started to grow annoyed. Scowling, he opened his eyes to glare down at the animal when he noticed Sĕuua growing. In size.

Spooked, Pran rolled away and threw the blanket at the cat, staring at it in horror.

The wiggling stopped, Then the blankets started to move as a head appeared.

"Pran, you're not a What If to m- Pran, are you listening?"

Strangulation seemed like an option, right? But then Pran remembered hearing about curses from Wai, and how his cousin would turn into an owl from time to time, and no, this was absolutely crazy. People actually did that? With a deranged look at the other guy, in his bed, Pran hysterically thought: Pat did that?

"Okay, I can see that you have not fully processed yet and that this must come as quite the shock, but I need you to know that you are in no way a What If to-"

"You're a cat", Pran wheezed out.

"Well, not most of the time."

Looking at the display of bare shoulders and arms and Patness, Pran squinted suspiciously at him: "You're not naked, are you?" 

Pat positively blushed. 

"It's, uh. A side effect of turning into a cat--" 

"A cat! Why did you never tell me that your cat is actually you? Oh my god, I let you in my room so many times. And fed you. I-"

"Pran!"

Pat grabbed the other's face, who somehow managed to focus on the non-cat in front of him.

"Yes, I'm cursed to sometimes turn into a cat, and it's been that way since I was seven and almost got run over by a car. And yes, all those times that you saw Sĕuua it was actually me, and you know what that else means? It means on that first day when you got me away from those kids, you probably saved my life, just like you did Paa's once, and I will thank you for that someday, but not now, because I don't want you to think that my feelings for you have anything to do with gratitude. I really, really like you, and my cat self probably realized that way earlier than I, and you know why? Because no matter if we argued or didn't talk or physically got into a fight, the moment I turned into a cat, my every instinct just screamed at me to get close to you. Because your mere presence comforts me, and I want nothing more than to be responsible for you looking at me like that, no matter if I'm a baby tiger or a silly engineering student.

"I told you when you were gone that I was depressingly lonely. I would get so lonely that I'd sneak into your room as a cat whenever I could, just so I could be near you and have your smell with me. And yes, I fucking love your smell. And if I think back to those days, knowing what I know now, then I can't bear the thought of not having you as close as you want me, too. I won't let things end the way they did last time, okay? If worst comes to worst, I'll scratch and bite my way to you, because I want you. I love you. I'm head over heels for you. I know this with as much surety as I know that I love Paa, or that I love competing against you. So please believe me when I tell you that you are not just a What If to me. Okay?"

Swallowing, Pran nodded hesitantly.

"Okay."

For a moment, they just stared at each other, no one daring to break the silence. Pat was the first one who decided he couldn't take it anymore: "Can I. Can I kiss you again?" The answer was another shaky nod, and already Pran's face was closer than before. Hoping to show even a glimpse of the adoration he felt right now, Pat reached out to cup Pran's face, thumbs brushing away the tear tracks under his eyes. Relief coursed through Pat, as he saw the sides of... his boyfriend's?, mouth quirk up the tiniest bit, and it reassured Pat enough to close his eyes, to inhale the other's scent deeply and ingrain it in every cell of his body, before impatient lips finally crushed unto his.

It was messy, and overflowing with feelings, but Pran's smile never left his lips.

At some point, they both had to part, feeling breathless. Pat couldn't help but regret the loss of contact, which he made known with a whine. He especially couldn't understand why Pran had to fall back unto the mattress, instead of continuing where they had left off. Pran - for his part - was busy staring at Pat in bafflement and wonder, still processing what had just transpired.

"Oh god, you're a fucking cat."