An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Ever since Richie presented as an Alpha (and even before that, if heâs honest with himself), heâs had a feeling deep in his gut that Eddie is his mate. For months he's waited for Eddie to present as Omega in the hopes that theyâll both be able to attend that yearâs Chase, a ceremony where Alphaâs scent out their mates among the available Omegaâs and bond with them. When Eddie finally presents, Mrs. K tries to keep him from The Chase, but Eddie isnât about to let that happen.
Summary: In the aftermath, Pran thinks to himself why, why did you give me that?
I have returned with more Bad Buddy cotaâs⌠with more sitting in a draft box waiting to see the light of day⌠and far too much love for this show. Thanks again to my love @imnotinclinedtomaturity
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In the aftermath, Pran thinks to himself why, why did you give me that?
He wants to scream, and scream, and scream until his voice goes hoarse, but all he can do is lay in bed and stare at his ceiling as if the tiles will make it all make sense. His heart aches in his chest, and he wants nothing more than to be back on that rooftop with Pat, Patâs lips lingering against his own, but he knows that it can never happen again.
He thinks I hate you, when he really means I think Iâve loved you all along. He thinks how could you, when he really means please do it again. He thinks,why now?, when he really means what took you so long?
Itâs not fair that Pran now knows what Pat tastes like, knows the way he kisses, and the feel of his hands in Pranâs hair. Itâs not fair that Pran has to live the rest of his life with the knowledge that Pat cares for him in a way that he was never supposed to care for Pran. Itâs not fair that Pran has to live with the fact that everything heâs ever wanted is right in front of him, and he canât have it.
He wishes Pat hadnât kissed him. He wishes Pat hadnât found him up on the rooftop, that Pran had walked away immediately, had cut Pat off at the beginning when it became clear that nothing good was going to come from having him back in his life.
But Pran hadnât been able to help it. He hadnât been able to but crave time with Pat, no matter how big or small. Hadnât been able to help the way it made him feel warm inside every time Pat said something that could so easily be misconstrued (and how fucked up is it that, armed with this new knowledge, every single one of those moments is forever going to be changed?). Hadnât been able to help the fact that, even as he stood on that rooftop, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that something big was about to change, he hadnât been able to make himself leave.
Pran can feel his heart shattering with every passing moment, can feel tears burning at the backs of his eyes, and wants nothing more than to make it all go away, but his eyes refuse to close, and his heart refuses to stop racing, and his mind wonât just let him go. He aches with the desire to go back to Pat, haunted by the expression of elation that had been on Patâs face moments before Pran had walked away, but he knows that he canât.
He canât. They canât.
This is not something that they will ever be allowed to have, so whatâs the point in pretending?
Eventually, Pat knocks on his door. Pran had been expecting it, but that doesnât change the way his heart constricts in his chest, dreading the moment he has to face Pat again, has to look in his eyes and tell him no.
Pran already knows that he wonât be able to do it, is already planning ways to avoid Pat for the foreseeable future, already planning how to say nothing, because if he doesnât say no then he can pretend it never happened in the first place.
Pat calls his name, and Pran finally, mercifully, manages to close his eyes. He lets his fingers curl up tight in the sheets, and pulls. He inhales slowly, and lets out everything he can on the exhale, doing everything in his power to mentally pack up this moment to store far, far, far away in the back of his mind, the way heâd stored his first heartbreak years ago when his mom took him away.
Pat slams his fist against Pranâs door, and Pran slings an arm over his head, opening his eyes to stare blankly at the ceiling. He lets himself go numb, and waits for Pat to go away.
Summary: When Pat kisses him on the rooftop, itâs not entirely a surprise. Thereâs no way Pran could have seen it coming, but it feels inevitable anyway.
Itâs been months⌠since the show aired⌠but I canât get over it. Iâve rewatched it more times than I can count, and now all I can think about is all the little scenes I want to write and react to, so hereâs the first one. Thanks to my best friend and beta @imnotinclinedtomaturity. I love you. ao3 link
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When Pat kisses him on the rooftop, itâs not entirely a surprise. Thereâs no way Pran could have seen it coming, but it feels inevitable anyway, like something in the universe has been edging them along this path for years, and it's finally come to a head.
That doesnât make it any easier, though.
Pran has known for a long time that he loves Pat. Heâd thought time and distance would make the ache go away after heâd been transferred, but it only took one look at Patâs face three years later for all that space to become meaningless. It didnât seem to matter that the next time Pran saw Pat was in the middle of a fight with Pranâs friends â his heart didnât care. It was Pat, the boy Pran had grown up with and, despite their families being enemies, had become friends with anyway.
These last few months have been hard. Suddenly having Pat back in his life again had felt like⌠the worst kind of pain. It felt like having all of his dreams laid out in front of him, all the while knowing that he could never have them, that theyâll forever be just out of reach. It hadnât helped that he and Pat had fallen right back into the way things used to be: namely, Pran falling head over heels in love with Pat with every passing day, and Pat being⌠well, Pat â always involving himself in Pranâs life, flirting with him, teasing him, making Pran believe for even just a moment that maybe they could be â
But they canât. They can never be. Because their families won't let them.
In a lot of ways, knowing that had been a relief. No matter how Pat treated him, no matter how close they got, or how much Pat dangled something more in front of Pranâs face, Pran had been safe in knowing that there was no use in hoping in the first place. Every time he caught himself wondering how Pat might feel, or what heâd meant when heâd said that or touched him there, or what might happen if Pat really did try and hit on Pran, Pran had been able to stop that train of through right in its tracks with the reminder that none of that even mattered because nothing could ever happen between them.
And then Pat kisses him, and Pran knows that it's going to be the last time â the only time â even before their lips part for the first time. He doesnât remember closing his eyes, but he does remember opening them, does remember the look of relief on Patâs face, and the desperate desire clawing at Pranâs throat for more. He canât seem to stop himself when he reaches up to grasp at Patâs neck and pull him in for another kiss, this time deeper and more needy than before.
Pranâs crying. He can feel a sob lodged in his throat, and heâs gasping with every press and pull of their mouths together. He can taste tears, and heâs pretty sure theyâre his own, because while Pat is kissing Pran like this is just the beginning, Pran is kissing Pat with everything he has because he knows that itâs an ending. This is all that Pran is ever going to get, so heâs going to make it worth it.
Pat fists his hands in the back of Pranâs hair, and Pran reaches up to cup Patâs cheek. He holds on tight, pulls himself closer to Patâs body, and chases Patâs lips when he starts to draw away. Heâs not ready for this to end, not if this is all heâll ever allow himself, so he drags Patâs mouth back to his over and over again, tilts his head and licks at Patâs lips until Pat is opening up underneath him and Pran can get at the true taste of him.
Pran kisses Pat until he canât take it anymore, and then he lingers for another moment still, breathing heavily against Patâs lips until Pat finally pulls all the way away.
Pran already knew from the way Pat had been kissing him that Pat didnât truly understand what was happening, but when they both blink their eyes open and Pat smiles so openly, so happily, at Pran, Pran feels his heart crack all the way open.
He manages not to sob, at least, but his face crumples in pain, and heâs still crying when he pulls away. He canât even bring himself to say anything, canât find the strength to steal even one last look, before he walks away, because this wasnât supposed to happen. Pat was never supposed to like him back.
When Pat kisses him on the rooftop, itâs not entirely a surprise.
"So," Bev hissed, as Richie ducked down behind the counter, "what did he think?"
"I- uh... I don't actually know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
Richie wrung the end of his apron in his hands. "I mean that he was studying hard and looked really into his book so he said thank you, but he didn't look at the cup, and then I got nervous so I just... dipped."
Bev giggled and flashed a crooked smile at him. "Oh my god, Rich, you're so shy with Eddie."
Richie groaned and placed his head in his hands. "It's not fair."
"I'm gonna see if he's looked yet." Bev poked her head up above the counter. "Hey, he's about to reach for the cup! Oh, wait... oh, no..."
"What? What? What's he doing? Is he freaking out?"
"No, no, nothing like that, it's just..." Bev snorted and dipped back down again, and her shoulders shook with the force of her barely suppressed laughter. "He reached over, but he didn't look up from his book... so he just tipped it back... and gulped it straight down..."
"You're fucking kidding me." Richie peeked up over the counter and sure enough, Eddie was sat at a table by himself not too far away - engrossed in a textbook that he was holding in one hand, and drinking deeply from a coffee cup in the other. Richie let himself slide back down to the floor where Bev was still chuckling. "I practiced that for weeks."
"Maybe now you'll just have to ask him out like a normal person," Bev suggested, giving him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder.
Wide open skies ahead
Hereâs where I lay myself down and
Wait till rivers rise up over my own head
Oh please, donât imagine a life without me, at least not yet
This house is a habit and itâs lovely to live in it