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ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ
a little (late) valentine's day idea has just popped into my head, thinking about how sappy patpran would be on the famous "day of love."
Once they'd finished college and Pran had done his stint in Singapore, they essentially gave up on trying to keep their relationship a secret.
Social media posts with their friends became a regular occurrence, and they weren't shy on tagging each other in silly little posts.
Praew was the first of their parents to acknowledge their relationship, heart reacting to one of Pat's facebook posts with Pran. She left a comment wishing them a happy anniversary, and Pat had cried in Pran's arms that night.
Dissaya stops glaring down her nose at Pat, but she doesn't smile either. She packs more than one container of leftovers for Pran when he stays for dinner, and that's enough for both Pat and Pran to know that she's trying to accept them.
It's enough; it's better than Ming.
Pakorn likes his old friend less and less as the months go by without Ming even simply attempting to play nice with Pat and Pran. And Dissaya herself is not too far behind her husband, her glares becoming all the more vicious the longer than Ming says and does nothing.
Their first Valentine's Day after Pran's stay in Singapore rolls around, having almost crept up on them without a warning. The sun has barely lit up the horizon, the sky still murky shades of grey and washed out hues of pink.
Pat blinks blearily into the lack of light and rolls onto his side, wrapping an arm around Pran's waist and shuffling forward to press a sleepy kiss to the back of his faen's neck.
Pran groans softly, turning his head away from the kiss. "Ai'Pat..."
"Happy Valentine's Day, baby. I love you."
"Mmm... Love you too, theerak."
"Do you want your gift now?"
Pran twists in Pat's arms, a heady look in his dark eyes. "I can think of something better to do than give our gifts to each other. Can't you?"
Pat's sleepy brain kicks into gear and he hums, pressing closer to his faen. "As you wish, my Pran."
It's safe to say that they don't make it out of the bed until long past sunrise, both messy-haired and bodies littered with soft red marks against milk tea skin.
Pran takes a photo of Pat cooking them breakfast, his naked butt hidden below the countertop but the faint red lines marring his back on full display. He posts it on Facebook with the caption "when your faen does the bare minimum on valentine's day. 😘"
Pat gets his revenge when Pran is blinking sleepily into his coffee, biting at his bruised bottom lip. Pran looks wholly unkempt and messy with his hair a wreck and the visible skin of his neck dotted with marks. But he looks so very cute in Pat's eyes.
Dissaya leaves a string of emojis on Pran's post — 👀😳🫣 — along with the message "that boy better take care of you, luk" that makes both boys laugh — but it's not as though Praew is much better on Pat's post: "my boy finally gets to cook someone breakfast. 🤭🤭🤭"
Paa is rather sisterly on both posts, saying something along the lines of: "eww! p'pran deserves someone better than you, hia! 🤢🤮"
Ink, on the other hand, wishes them both a peaceful day.
Wai and Korn post gifs of lewd things, as both Pat and Pran expect them to.
Pakorn spares them a comment, but he does laughing react to his wife's comment. Pran snorts into his coffee at his parents, and Pat rolls his eyes at his mother's comment. He cooks breakfast every day, while Pran deals with their dinners.
But there's nothing from Ming, and Pat doesn't care about it. If his father won't accept and acknowledge his relationship with Pran, then he will return the favour and pretend that his father does not exist.
Pat showers Pran with kisses, soft blooming lilacs, and heart-shaped chocolates. He grins widely when Pran opens a roughly wrapped box, eyes filled with stars when Pran lights up at the sight of a complete space-themed stationary kit.
He knew Pran would like it.
Pran is giddy, hardly able to sit still in his seat when Pat opens his meticulously wrapped gift, a frill-tipped pink tulip tucked behind his ear from the bunch on the table beside his car-shaped dark chocolates. Pat stares at Pran in confusion, the dog collar in his hands.
"Ai'Pran, are you pranking me?" Pat sulks, rubbing the material between his fingers. "I know you like to call me 'puppy' a lot, but—"
"Pat, look at the card, and read it to me."
"It says: 'Congratulations. Thank you for adopting one of our rescues. Your...' Pran, what...?"
Pran smiles softly. "read on, theerak."
"'Your puppy is eagerly waiting to be taken to her forever home. Her name is...'" Pat trails off, his voice cracking. "'Her name...'"
