Prem's Point of View
The sauce was complete. The noodles were done boiling and I just finished sautéing the chicken. I was on to the veggies.
"Is the food ready yet? I'm starving." Boun complained while sitting at the kitchen table. I was making Pad Thai, following a simple recipe that had been taught to me years ago.
"Shut up, you're lucky I'm making enough for you too." First official night in this makeshift prison and I was ready to strangle him. "How is it possible, that the son of a world-renowned chef can't even cook?" I shook my head.
"I can't cook because I am the son of a world-renowned chef," He smirked fiddling with the speaker box. I moved the veggies to one side of the pan, added the eggs to the other side, and started scrambling them.
"That doesn't make sense, you loved being in the kitchen with me and your mom while she spilled secrets behind her amazing recipes. You loved cooking."
"I hate cooking!" Boun confessed grumbling, "only reason I even bothered suffering through it was because of how much you liked it."
"Wait a minute," I added the cooked noodles, chicken, sauce, and green onions. "You only acted like you were interested in cooking because of me?" I looked over at Boun who seemed to have lost interest in what I was asking, as he shoved the speaker box away.
"The flat-screen doesn't work and this stupid thing doesn't even play music." He huffed standing up, "That almost looks ready I'm going to go wash my hands." He brushed passed me so quick I almost forgot about the food.
Returning my attention back to the task at hand, I gave the mixture a good toss until everything was evenly coated in the sauce, then removed the pan from the heat. The Pad Thai was complete.
All those years in his mom's kitchen, using our boosters as kids because we were too small to reach the stove, and he hated it? Were my memories deceiving me? I clearly remembered the excitement on his face as we took turns adding ingredients.
One of my last and fondest memories between us was just a week before my eleventh birthday party. We had the best food fight ever. Though we had dozens, I couldn't remember those quite as clearly as I did that last one.
Every glance, every touch, every detail remained ingrained in my memories. Looking back sometimes I didn't even believe it really happened.
Was it real?
Did he really say what he said?
Did he mean it?
We were only ten and thirteen, maybe he didn't realize the implication behind those words.
Why the hell did I say, 'okay'?
It wasn't real and he didn't mean it, because here we are. Hating each other.
By the time Boun returned I was already sitting down with my food.
"You didn't fix me a bowl?" He was shocked.
"Why would I do that?" I scoffed, "I don't have to serve you."
"You're never going to get married with that attitude." He muttered, while preparing his own meal.
"Well if that's a turn off for you, then maybe I won't attract any assholes like yourself." I countered laughing as I started eating.
"You should be so lucky to find someone as half as good-looking as me." Boun smirked sitting down at the table.
He took a quick bite, his eyes went wide, and I could tell by his choking the spices just exploded in his mouth.
"Too hot?" I inquired innocently with a smile.
"No," His voice came out as a high-pitched squeak. "No, it's fine, just caught me off guard."
"It must've been the red pepper flakes, I totally forgot you couldn't handle spicy foods." I lied with a huge grin on my face.
Boun took several gulps of water, while he ate in between bites.
"If it's too hot for you, the best remedy is to drink milk." I recommended. He shot me a lethal glare before getting up and grabbing some from the fridge.
I relished in my victory.
"I'll wash the dishes since you cooked." He volunteered after taking a few sips of milk.
"You thought you had a choice?" I sneered, before I started eating again. "You're cleaning the kitchen too." Or he could starve next time.
"Yes your highness." He muttered unhappily.
After dinner, Boun grabbed an extra blanket and pillow from the bed, then tossed it on the couch.
Good, cause if he thought he was sleeping in the same bed as me, he was sadly mistaken.
"You, sofa. I'm calling dibs on the bed tonight." He sounded so smug. I slowly stood from the table.
"Tell me exactly why I have to do what you say?"
"Because I'm your Ah Hia." He smiled folding his arms across his chest.
Ah Hia meant "Big brother" in Hokkien, a widely spoken Chinese dialect from the south-eastern part of Fujian Province.
"You are no brother of mine," Not anymore, he wasn't, "and you may be older chronically, but you have the mentality of a toddler." I sassed back.
"Come on Salapao!" He groaned, "you already had the bed last night."
"Do. Not. Call. Me. That!" I shouted feeling my anger rising, I started curling my fingers into fists. "It's a term of endearment, in which only my family calls me. You are not my family."
I saw a flash of hurt cross Boun's face before he schooled his features with a sly chuckle.
"I gave you that name, so I can call you Salapao any time I want."
Has he lost his mind?
That's it!
I crossed the room and got directly in his face.
"Call me by that name one more time, and I swear I will slap that stupid look off your face!" I meant every word.
He smiled wickedly at me before opening his mouth again.
"Salapao, Salapao, Salapao."
"You asshole!"
I reached out to slap his face, but he blocked my right hand. All the while he had that stupid sexy expression on his face. It was pissing me off. I tried to slap him with my left hand, but he caught and held onto that one too.
Suddenly the television turned on.
"I thought you said it was broken."
He released my hands.
"It was...unless they are controlling it from out there." Boun was livid now. "You...assholes!"
As the video played, and even though the furniture was different, I could tell this was Boun's house. My mom was sitting down, she looked so young, and appeared to be on cloud nine, while holding a baby in her arms.
It had to be me.
I walked over to the sofa and took a seat.
"He's so cute." Boun's mom gushed over me. "Prem is such a great name."
Soon another child who looked about two or three walked in view of the camera. By his features I could tell it was Boun as he climbed in his mom's lap.
"Boun would you like to hold the baby?"
Boun's eyes lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically.
My mom gently placed me in his arms, while his mom helped him support my weight and head.
"Only touch his hands and feet. Don't touch his head because it's very delicate." Boun's mom told him softly.
He reached down and kissed my fingertips; I thought my heart would cave in. He then started filling his cheeks with air, trying to entertain me.
"Chubby cheeks." Boun giggled. "My, Salapao."
"That's the perfect nickname Boun." My mom agreed. "Salapao, it is."
Then the screen went blank.
I looked over at Boun. His lips were compressed tightly shut, and I could see his eyes glistening with what I wasn't sure of. Pain? Shame? Sadness? Longing? I knew for sure it wasn't good.
There were so many emotions running through me at the time as well. Feeling so alone, I had trouble processing what all of them meant at the moment.
"You can sleep on the bed; I'll take the sofa. I need to take a shower." Boun's voice was no more than a whisper.
Shower?
We already took showers before dinner.
He refused to make eye contact with me as he grabbed his bag and headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
I put my elbows on my knees and held my face in my hands. I felt my sizzling tears run down my cheeks and over my fingers.
I hate Boun.
I hate Boun so much.
I hate Boun so much because...I miss him.
I miss us.
Boun's Point of View
Turning on the shower to drown out my tears I leaned back against the wall. Though the hot water was splashing all over my body I felt so cold.
What type of underhanded manipulative bullshit are they trying to pull?
This isn't fair.
How could Kao and Ohm do this to me? Fluke and Earth may not know, but my best friends weren't idiots. They knew no matter how badly I behaved towards my Salapao, no matter how cruel I am towards him, it takes every bit of willpower not to pull him into my arms. Every time I'm near my Salapao, I'm fighting the urge to throw myself at his feet and beg for his forgiveness.
As kids, he loved me so much. I was his ah hia. Now his love has transformed into hate. I want to tell him I'm sorry, but I don't know how. Where do I even start? If I could take back that day ten from years ago, I would. He won't even let me call him by the name I gave him.
Ten years without so much of a upward glance from him. The pain was unbearable these days.
He hates me. He hates me so much. He hates me because I keep hurting him every chance I get. He doesn't even realize negative attention from him is better than no attention from him at all.
He can hate me for the rest of my life.
I will love him for the rest of his.
I took a deep breath trying to get my emotions in check.
When I finally got out, Prem was already sleeping...on the sofa.
Thanks so much for reading. I will update as early as next Friday, as late as Sunday.