and i cannot control it (the way you're making me feel) | patpran oneshot

and i cannot control it (the way you're making me feel)

They walk in and lock the door. It's one of those workshop rooms like they have in his faculty building, but this one's much cleaner and there's no lingering smell of any kind.

Just two boys chilling in a classroom with a goose.

Totally normal.

Pat unhooks his arm and sits on a table. Pran mumbles something about how dirty that is, but ends up doing the same at the table across from Pat's.

Pat kicks his legs thinking of what to talk about.

He knows what he wants to talk about, the goose in the room waddling to rest near them, but he doesn't think Pran wants to. Not when he looked so... frightened at the idea of Pat being his soulmate.

Is it really that terrible of a thought?

All of these years, Pat believed the two of them were on the same page. Rivals, secret friends, something— something more than what their parents wanted them to be.

He didn't think that Pran would react with such sadness over the universe recognizing their bond.

But maybe he is only seeing what he wants to.

Maybe that's why it was so easy for him to accept that Pran is the one the goose led him to.

Maybe he's always loved Pran.

And maybe Pran always hated Pat.

Pat thought it was all part of their act. He never actually assumed that Pran's annoyance with him was genuine. (Well, some of it yes, but not all of it.)

Seeing Pran's face go all lost like that... Pat doesn't want him to feel like that. Like he's burdened with Pat.

So he takes a breath and says, "I'm sorry." His tepid voice echoes throughout the empty classroom.

"What?" Pran asks defensively.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his voice firmer. "I didn't plan for it to go this way."

Pran huffs. "What do you mean?" His eyes zero in. "Is this a prank or something?" he asks, sitting up and glancing towards the door.

Pat hurriedly waves his hands. "No no no, this isn't a prank. Why would this be a prank?"

Pran closes his mouth and looks away. He shrugs.

A second later he looks back at Pat. "Then why are you sorry?" he asks tentatively, yet his voice is still rough around the edges.

"I'm sorry for being your soulmate," Pat says, urging his own voice to be stronger than he is in that moment. He doesn't know what his face looks like, but if his hands clasped to the edge of the desk below him and stiff legs are anything to go by, he thinks he doesn't look as brave as he wants to.

Pran gasps, soft and light. The hardness around him weakens and he opens his mouth to reply—

And Pat's phone rings. The chorus of Warm Blood by Carly Rae Jepsen fills the room.

Pat immediately goes to reject the call, but then sees Korn's contact photo on the screen— his bestie's face-masked face greeting him– so he answers. "It's Korn," Pat says, putting it on speaker. "Okay, first I told you to text me, but whatever, how does the goose leave?"

"I wanted to hear your reaction when I told you!" Korn says, giggling menacingly. "I would have facetimed but I know you said no."

"At least he's respectful," Pran says. His eyes widen and he covers his mouth, as if that would help.

Korn gasps, "Is that them? Am I on speaker right now!?"

"Yes to both," Pat says. He looks at Pran for a second to make sure he's alright and then lifts the phone closer to his mouth. "Now can you please tell us how to get rid of this goose!"