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Pun was a light sleeper. Every night in his room, he would wake up from mere cars passing by and even the sound of creaking floors from the room next to him. Or like now, with the storm interrupting it.
In his family house, silence was weirder. And he never really got to digest why, he just learned to live with it as he stared up at a single glow in the dark sticker on his ceiling.
All of his friends had it, but most were in Peem’s room. It was a gift given to his friend when they were in 8th grade and they spent the night in his room like always. Tan jumped up from Peem’s bed to stick three at a time and it turned into a game of how many they could stick at once, causing the boy to have multiple galaxy-themed stickers he could stare at at night—except Peem never really turns his lights out unlike him. He reckoned most were off now, he never really checked recently since they were mostly drunk everytime.
But it was a good memory to keep, and to remember—to help himself fall back asleep.
As a kid, he was surely spoiled. His parents loved him a lot and made sure he was showered with utmost care. Until they didn’t anymore, and he felt… well, alone. The house was noisy before because of the pure joy running around their home, now it was noisy due to the TV being too loud as he tried to read his notes every night. But again, it was better than pure silence. Than being left alone by himself in the house he grew up in.
In grade 7, Pun met his friends. Four people who made him realize a lot about himself. Frankly, they were the noisiest bunch of people he’s ever met. Q was only quiet when he kept to himself, but his yells when annoyed would wake Pun up from any mere daze. Peem liked bantering, his laughs and the cheekiness in his voice was always one of Pun’s favorite things. Tan, he was the loudest. Then and now. He was always up to something, ready to jump around and perform some kind of parkour at every spot they were in—he sometimes would call him SpiderTan. And Chain, Pun liked hearing his voice the most. Meeting them, it made him used to the noise even more—and most nights he wished he were with them instead. Maybe one more than the others.
He stared up at the star on the ceiling of his lonely room, eyes blinking to imitate how they would twinkle in the night. Outside. Like they do when he sits outside of Peem’s house, lost. Leaning back on Chain’s frame, as if he was found again.
Pun didn’t really understand parenthood. He guesses he’ll never know unless he ends up as one. And God knows, he doesn’t see himself married with a wife and kids anytime soon. Or later. Or ever. He didn’t like how miserable his mother looked recently, when she was so full of joy when he was a kid. Besides that, he doesn’t see himself with any woman—that was one of the things he first found out about himself on his own. Because like he said, his friends made him realize a lot of things. Maybe one more than the others.
Right when he reached teenhood, a lot of things were grabbed away from his grasp. Toys he kept from when he was a kid. A few clothes that didn’t fit him anymore. His father. And his favorite stuffed bear that was as big as little Pun. His mother decided to donate it to a nearby orphan his father loved, and he didn’t protest. He only did in his room, crying over it pathetically as he clung to his pillows—afraid that his father would find him upset over “silly things” on the slight chance that he’d be home.
The next day he had swollen eyes in class, and his friends immediately asked him about it. They showed concern, and cheered him up with different snacks. Peem even prepared a surprise sleepover, proposing they play one of the new board games his aunt bought. It made him smile how hard they tried, even if his whines brought Q to hit him with a pencil—he knew it was still out of care. Otherwise the boy would punch him. Tan and Chain proposed they would sleep on his opposite sides, and that he could definitely hug them to sleep. Well, Tan proposed it—Chain only nodded unsurely. That night they all helped cheer him up. Maybe one more than the others.
“Pun,” he heard Chain’s concerned tone from behind, walking towards his spot on the grassy frontyard. “what’s wrong?”
He opted not to speak, knowing fully well it would be a bit redundant and ungrateful of him to share his thoughts. His friends tried their best to make him forget about the stuffed bear, yet he couldn’t. Even after all their efforts.
“Is it still the bear?” Like Chain read his mind. He could only raise his head a bit, hugging his knees as the other sat behind him. Chain was a serious person, yet when he was in a goofy and playful mood—Pun’s heart leapt with more adoration than usual. The other bumped his back with his own, making him smile. It looked like some kind of seesaw, he imagined.
“Why does it mean so much to you? Did it have some sentimental value? Given by someone?” Chain asked, pauses in each option. Ultimately, he nodded at both.
“It helped me feel more comfortable at night,” he answered with a sad smile. Chain didn’t speak for a long while, only hitting his back with the other’s repeatedly. The silence wasn’t deafening, it was frankly quite calming for him. He liked this version of it.
“Didn’t Tan say you could hug us to sleep?”
Pun chuckled at that, shaking his head—it wasn’t how he used the bear. He had a peculiar way of falling asleep, something he picked up on as a kid and never outgrew, but would have to now. With a small curl of his lips, he contemplated on telling Chain about that part—worried his friend might find it weird.
“What do you do then?” He asked, curiosity etched in his tone. Pun couldn’t word it properly, so he opted to turn. Hands on the ground as he leaned in, wrapping his lips around the others earlobe—pulling on it before letting go. His eyes widened at his own actions, head blaming the drowsiness of the night as he clutched his eyes close and put his hands up in the form of an apology to his friend.
Yet instead of outrage, he heard a chuckle. And felt a hand on his cheek, and what seemed like a thumb caressing his ear. “It’s okay.”
He popped an eye open, looking up at Chain who only sported a tight-lipped smile. “What?”
Pun shook his head, still embarrassed. Moreso when the other touched his own ear, bringing heat to his cheeks. To that, he turned around once again—scooting over a bit to put distance. That didn’t take long as Chain only followed him, putting them back on their original position.
“Pun…”
Pun only hummed in response.
“You can do that to me too, if it’ll make you feel better. I don’t mind.”
Chain’s words felt absurd to him, he even laughed it off that night. But alas, he did end up taking his friend’s offer—only on drunken nights when he had the courage. It was the only time the butterflies in his stomach wouldn’t irritate him about even the mere thought of doing so.
His father was a politician, and unlike others who enjoyed bringing their families to campaign with him—Pun and his mother were left at home. Unsure if he would come home every night at the dinner table. Eventually he grew out of waiting for him, eating to his heart’s content instead of staring dumbly at a plate waiting for nobody. His mother would scold him sometimes, let him be the others—until they eventually stopped eating together too.
Once he was on the path to decide for college plans, his father started coming home more—only to convince him to follow his footsteps.
“He’s here again,” Tan noticed as the group walked over towards the gate of their high school—glancing over at Pun who was busy stuffing his face with barbecue.
“Who?” He asked the bunch, only turning when he heard them greet somebody behind.
“Oh.” It was all he could muster up, especially since a bunch of the school officials greeted his father as well.
“Nong Pun is doing well.”
“Nong Pun behaves in my class.”
“We don’t have any problems with Nong Pun.”
Q glanced at him worriedly, as well as Chain who immediately placed an arm around him. Tan pushed him a bit, scheming an escape as Peem agreed and whispered in panic. “Where are we going?”
And as much as it disappointed him that his father didn’t notice he was no longer there, he was relieved to have left. He wanted to thank his friends, yet their random chitchats filled his ears as they walked towards what he doesn’t even know yet. With Chain’s arm hanging off of him the whole time and his eyes graced with the stars slowly appearing above him. His friends always saved him. Maybe one more than the others.
That day they ended up at a random lake, and went home soaked with their uniforms sticking to their skins. Pun wasn’t scolded, he was welcomed to the table with a bunch of pamphlets about which universities were best to study in—all laid down by his father who tried to smile warmly at him. Tried. Like he was one of his people, a part of the community he’s trying to woo.
Pun hated fake smiles. He liked his friends’, they all had genuinity in them. Flashes of his friends’ faces occupied his brain as his father went on and on about the different universities he frankly never even heard of.
“Assholes, if you don’t follow me to my university—I’ll never forgive any of you.”
Pun’s brows furrowed as he read the university names in front of him, not one sounding similar to what Tan was talking about. He tried, with the loudest voice he could muster up—he tried to speak against the same care he’s been craving for.
“But I don’t want to go to these places.”
It wasn’t as loud as he hoped it would be, but enough to make his father look up at him—smile fading. The man in front of him looked conflicted, probably unsure if he should try again or leave Pun be. He wished it was the latter, although it could mean the even less likeliness of them ever seeing each other again. His mother—who sat quietly at the sofa, glanced over at them two. More at him, tightly smiling before turning towards the television once again.
“Just think about it, Pun.” His father’s words seemed more like a demand, than an option. To that, he shook his head—determined to keep his answer. He wanted to go to university with his friends, no amount of parental issues were going to change that.
Even as his father left the pamphlets laying there, he paid them no mind as he went up to his room. He was sure his father would disappear again anyways.
Only bumping into him five days before their high school graduation, when Pun and his friends found themselves at a police station.
Fear crept into him as he saw his father enter, even though his eyes weren’t on him at all. The man was busy already negotiating with the officers, not even knowing why they were there. What they even did. What his son was up to, for him to be brought to a police station on a school day and stinking from alcohol. He watched Tan smell himself, earning a nudge from Peem. They stood side by side; Q, Peem, Tan, Chain and then him.
“Damage of property?” He heard his father murmur, glancing at him and his friends as he nodded—grabbing his wallet to probably pay for the bail. Or just to keep it quiet from everybody, knowing he can’t afford to have his reputation tainted even by his “beloved” son.
“I’ll say I did it,” Tan whispered as his body leaned towards them, only to get pushed back by Peem.
“We all did it, who cares who came up with it.” He responded, knowing well it was Pun who did.
“We can just say we didn’t know he owned the car, he has like… ten.” Tan.
“Seriously, Tan. Pun would be stupid not to know his own father’s car.” Peem.
“What do you want to do, Pun?” Chain’s voice reflected concern, making the confused boy turn to him immediately. He saw Q wait for his answer as well, while Tan and Peem continued talking. He blinked for a while, unsure what to respond—especially since his father stared right at him too once he looked elsewhere.
“I can say it was m-me, it’s okay.” He tried to sound convincing, even if he was sure his friends weren’t buying it. But he asked them to drop it, that he could take care of it as his father told them to go outside so he could take them home.
Like trees, the five stood outside the car door of a different model Pun’s father rode. Not the one they trashed after seeing it at a random person’s driveway—in Pun’s defense, he was upset over being told on the phone that his father wouldn’t fund his studies if not inside the universities he’s handpicked. Immature? Sure. But it wasn’t as mean and personal as what his father wanted to do.
“I always see you four with him. Are you Pun’s friends?” His father asked in a less nicer tone, spilling authority as he watched Tan step back a bit.
“Yes, sir.” Peem replied for the bunch.
“Since when?” Pun found the questions unnecessary, for this would be things his father would know if he only cared more. He’s met them, thrice, yet the most important people in his life didn’t even ring a bell to the person who raised him.
“Since middle school– grade 7, a while ago.” Tan replied in slight stutters, making Pun feel guilty and horrible. Yet he couldn’t speak, not while Chain’s hand kept a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder.
“Are you why he wants to study somewhere different?”
The two lowered their heads at the question, Tan nodding a bit.
“They’re not… I wanna be with them myself.” Pun tried to reason out, to save his friends from the blame.
“Being with your friends won’t guarantee you a good future.”
“And being without them would?” The silence swallowed the whole group, and somehow the air grew dry—at least for Pun who held in tears welling up from his eyes. The quiet suffocated him.
“With all due respect, sir. We’ve been taking care of Pun since we were… little, he’d be in safe hands with us. We’ve taken care of him for you and we can do so even more.” Peem reasoned out, breaking the tension.
His father breathed out what seemed like a chuckle, earning his attention.
“You’ve been taking care of him for me?” He asked, to which Tan and Peem nodded at. Pun glanced at the two, eyes heating up as he channeled his eyes towards the ground once again.
“What about you two?” His father questioned, motioning towards Chain and Q who looked up. Pun’s chest tightened, unsure what the situation was turning into. And when Chain’s hand left his shoulder, his nervousness doubled—watching as the other clutched his hands together and took a step forward.
“We’re taking care of Pun for himself. Not for you, sir.”
Peem pulled Chain a bit, yet he didn’t budge. Pun’s surprise doubled when Q moved from his place and walked towards Chain, standing beside him—agreeing.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His father questioned, causing him to move forward and shield the two even with his smaller frame.
“It just means whatever we do to protect Pun, it’s for him. We don’t feel the need to fill whatever shoes anybody failed to. Sir.” Q still answered right behind him, even through Peem’s whispers for them to stop.
“You’re saying I failed.”
“You said that yourself, sir. We’re simply saying we care about Pun, not anybody else.” Chain murmured. And Pun couldn’t help but look up once again at the twinkling stars sitting above their tired frames.
That night played vividly in Pun’s head for days until his graduation, to which his father didn’t attend. His gift was to let Pun enter university with his friends, with the condition that he would take Political Science.
And during nights when his workload got tough, he would simply look back at that incident. And remember how his friends fought for his freedom and saved him. Maybe one(or two) more than the others.
Pun eventually liked his course, although it did require a lot of memorizations and readings than he expected. At night, he would struggle as the television made noises while he would try to read. And music, it would distract him if he stuck his earphones in. Sometimes, he would spend them at the university library, but would struggle with going home late at night—the transportation system wasn’t very kind to him.
His best transportation system was Chain.
Yet even the boy had things to do, as someone studying dentistry—he’s positive his friend would be as busy as he was. Maybe even more. Nevertheless, they found a solution.
“Pun”, he hummed in response immediately. “you might hear a few noises,” Chain managed to warn him as he was in the middle of rewriting a few of his notes. Turning to his laptop placed at the end of the bed, his hums served as a reply—peeking at what the other was up to.
From his screen he could see Chain practicing putting on gloves smoothly, the material being his definition of ‘a few noises’.
“They’re not that noisy, Chain.” He murmured, reassuring his friend who looked over with a smile and a nod.
This was the type of quiet he liked. Unsure if it had anything to do with Chain or just the situation, although every calm situation with Chain seemed to be his favorite. He was fond of the boy, he was sure about that now. Who wouldn’t? Who in their friend group would spend nights video calling him just so he can listen to something else while studying? Nobody. Only Chain.
He turned his lights off as he finished his readings, now turning back to the other who cleaned up his things as well. He watched Chain silently, his whole presence calming for him as his eyes fluttered shut—stomach on the comfort of his bed. Pun fell asleep most nights that way. If not, in Peem’s bed with all of his friends. And on occasions he hated, he never fell asleep—stuck staring at the sticker atop his bed.
“Aow, it’s starting to rain.” Chain complained, looking up from behind him as he followed.
“It’s fine. But,” he wiped away stray drops on his face. “the stars are gone.”
His complaint came out with a pout, making the other nod. And disagree as well in a split second.
“They’re right there,” He murmured—turning a bit to point at Pun’s eyes. The manner made the two laugh, sniffling a bit from the rain.
“Cheesy,” he murmured—ignoring the flush on his cheeks he can blame on the cold rain. Even so, their heads stayed leaned on each other, now bumping shoulders instead of backs.
And if his ears wasn’t already heated, Chain’s warm hand reaching for his cheek was most certainly the last straw—along with the warmth of his lips connected with the latter. Pun was too scared to move, letting the other kiss him. Yet—maybe it was the cold of the rain that made him want to chase the warmth it brought him, he leaned in. That night they stayed outside Peem’s house longer than the usual.
By the time he graduated college, his father was keen on being a part of his life and even proclaimed love publicly. Of course, to make him follow his footsteps and enter politics—like he always wanted. His friends supported it unlike when they were teens.
“Maybe it’s a good idea, though.” Peem murmured, sipping from his coffee. Their shop was open as the five talked on the front yard, calmed down from the high of finishing college and now trying to find employment.
“Is it?” He asked confusedly, although already sure he wouldn’t agree.
“Finding work’s hard, man. Look at me! I’m struggling even for a mere internship.” Tan complained, feet up on the table as he flashed them his phone—showing a list of companies who have rejected him. And then a picture of Fang on his case which brightened up the sourness on his face.
“Q’s main work right now is painting for his senior’s café. I’m… “
“Living off of your boyfriend’s generational wealth,” Q butted in at Peem who gave him a glare.
“You just can’t relate, your boyfriend has to live off of your non-existent money for a year more.” He countered, earning laughs from Tan.
Chain sat quietly, and frankly it was his opinion Pun wanted to hear the most. His eyes involuntarily went to him, questioning etched in his pupils as the other only looked down.
“What is it?” He urged him to talk, alarming the other three who listened in.
“I just think you should give it a try, Pun.”
He was unsure what the feeling that crept in was, though it felt like his heart was sinking. Every bit of noise entered his ears, unlike the serenity his friends would usually bring. Birds chirping, loudly and rapidly. The crunch of leaves. His breathing. The moving of chairs. Everything, like it was trying to overstimulate him yet his eyes hurt more than anything else.
Maybe, his friends have been handling him with kid gloves. And it was finally time to grow up. Or maybe they’ve just grown tired of filling boots they were never required to. Or maybe they’re just simply sick of it. Him and his issues. They had their own. The whole time, they did. Yet all he cared about was himself.
“Mm.” He could only mumble out, sipping on his iced tea as the others stood silent.
“Pun.” Chain tried to call out as he quietly stood and asked if he could use the comfort room—holding back the pain at the sides of his lids.
He wasn’t sure how he managed to go back home that day or even on other days after that, surprising himself as he opened the door to the television shut down—only a letter on the couch to welcome his presence. His brows furrowed at the unusual emptiness of the house, although it’s been hollow for a long time anyways. Every step led to a creak, one he couldn’t tune out even if he tried.
Hand on the paper, and the crunch of it was all he could hear—more as he flipped it open and read through every word of goodbye his mother wrote. Sealed with an ‘I Love you’, that made him feel nothing—for why did loving him always equate to leaving him.
He’s sure people would think at least she’s alive, just decided to live without him. Just like his father. Frankly like everybody else, if they had a choice.
With a sad chuckle, he walked upstairs to his room—clutching the paper as he jumped on his bed. Waiting for the stars outside for some comfort. To his dismay, the skies had a different plan.
It rained the whole night, yet he couldn’t dare to move from his position. He would slip in and out of sleep, every waking hour filled with the thought of being alone. And lonely at the same time.
The rain outside seemed inviting, only if he had someone to accompany him. Like how Chain did. He dozed off another time, waking up in the middle of the night from hearing a car pass by. His sigh alarmed him, hearing his stomach make noises as a creak outside he thought he imagined alarmed his system. And like the world wanted to play a sick joke, a thunder roared—eliciting a small yell. Although not from him.
“Ai’Tan, he’s probably sleeping. Shut up!” Chain’s voice—although muffled, was something always familiar to him. And he was sure he was dreaming. As if it wasn’t enough to show him everything he was missing.
Until the door opened, revealing the same boy he’s been hoping would come. Even if he never spoke it out loud even to himself.
His eyes widened as the other entered, moreso when he turned to lock the door—much to the others’ protest from behind it. Amidst their terrible knocking, Chain rushed to him with a crushing hug.
And like a last string finally plucked off, Pun’s face contorted into loud sobs of devastation and pain. Ones he’s kept even from his childhood down to his adulthood. Ones he’s never let others see, imagining how much it would cause them distress or discomfort. Ones he’s convinced himself weren’t worthy of crying over. Ones he’s confessed to Chain yet never revealed how much it ruined him inside. Ones he was willing to keep until his dying days if it weren’t for the warmth Chain offered in his arms.
He didn’t know how long he was kneeled on the ground—clutching Chain’s clothes as he sobbed like a child, yet he heard no complaint. Only ones from his friends who were begging to come in. The other kept quiet, occasionally rubbing his nape which only made it worse. It was another way he couldn’t put into words, like there was just no explanation for how the other made him feel all the time.
Loved. Maybe that’s what it was. All of his friends made him feel so.
Maybe one more than the others.