But of course, now that Pat knows that Pran is at South Tech, living in the Tinidee dorms, he’s suddenly everywhere. He’s studying engineering, apparently, which is another piece of profoundly bad luck for Pran, because it means that they have a lecture together. Pran doesn’t know how, in their first few sessions, he hadn’t noticed Pat among the crowd of blue shirts who tend to sit on the other side of the hall from his faculty, but the next time they have that class, Pat makes a beeline for Pran and his friends after the lecture is over.
“Pran!” he says, smiling. “Can’t believe I didn’t notice we were both in this lecture until now. It must be fate, huh?”
“More like bad luck,” Pran mutters.
His friends glance at him in surprise. Well, they have a right to be – they’ve probably never seen Pran be this rude with anyone.
Pat notices their reactions, because of course he fucking does, and it only makes his smile grow wider. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” he says.
Pran glowers. “Pat.”
“That’s my name!” Pat says cheerfully. “What’s yours?” he adds, looking at Louis.
Louis blinks at him, caught off-guard. “Uh – Louis. And this is Safe, and Wai.” Wai and Safe nod politely at Pat, still looking bewildered. “How do you know Pran?”
“Oh, I’ve known Pran all my life,” Pat says airily. “Our families are neighbors. We grew up together.”
“Really?” says Wai, with interest. Damn him. “Pran never talks about his childhood.”
Pat seems to falter a bit at that, throwing Pran a confused look, but he recovers quickly. “Oh, I have plenty of stories, if you ever want them,” he tells Wai with a grin, and that’s just about as much as Pran can take of this conversation.
“No time, we have to get to our Design Studio class,” he says, curt, grabbing his stuff to make his exit. Pran’s friends scramble to follow him.
“Nice to meet you all!” Pat says, waving, and Pran shoots him one last scathing look.
“What’s your deal with that guy?” Wai asks once Pran’s slowed down enough for his friends to catch up. “Did he bully you or something?”
Pran groans. “No, nothing like that,” he says, begrudgingly. “He’s just – annoying. It’s a long story.”
“Well, he’s also pretty hot,” says Safe with a smirk. “If you don’t want him, I call dibs.”
Pran’s stomach drops. What the fuck?
He’s pretty sure that Safe is joking, especially from the way he’s now waggling his eyebrows, but apparently that’s not enough for Pran to keep his reaction off his face, because Safe blanches when he notices. “Or – not?” he says uncertainly. “Un-dibs, un-dibs.”
That, unfortunately, only makes his friends look at him with even more curiosity, but they manage to refrain from asking.
Pat, on the other hand doesn’t refrain from anything.
