Chapter Text
“He doesn't stand a chance.”
That's what the muffled voices in the hallways of his school say, and Pang can't find it in him to disagree with them. “Nac” he calls. His best friend ignores him, although a telling smirk appears on his face, letting Pang know that he heard him. “Nac!” he repeats, and this time punctuates his urgence with a light kick on Nac's leg.
“Ouch!” his friend whines. “Uncalled for” he comments.
“I don't think so,” Pang retorts, with a sly smile. “Come on, why did you have to sign me up for that bullshit competition?”
“Because” Nac starts, his voice obnoxious, as if he's explaning Pang something a ten year old could have understood by himself, “you can beat them, Pang. I'm sure you can.”
“Well, it's good that you are - because I'm not.”
“Oh, please! You almost beat me at chess the other day, and I'm in class 1 too.”
“Almost,” he points out. He won't tell him that he actually let him win that one game as a special gift, since Nac was feeling kind of shitty that afternoon. He doesn't need to know that, especially since it would only be a compelling argument for the point he's trying to make. “And they're gifted kids or whatever. They're even smarter than you are.”
“Pang, listen to me,” Nac says, before interlacing his fingers, and using his hands to hold his chin. “You are smart. And can you imagine the look on that asshole's face if you do manage to beat him in the last round? I believe this thought alone should be enough to hype you up.”
Pang frowns. “Uhm... Who are we talking about exactly?”
Nac looks at him as if he asked him what to make of two plus two. “I'm obviously talking about Wave, Pang.”
Wave. That's a weird name - or, rather, not a weird name itself, but it makes Pang feel weird all of a sudden. Kind of like when you're looking for a word, it's on the tip of your tongue, but it fails to come out of your mouth. Kind of like a memory of your childhood that's faded into something shapeless over the years, something you know has been a part of your life but can't quite remember what it was like when you experienced it. Wave. Huh, that was hella weird. “Am I supposed to remember him? Some classmate of yours?”
Nac blinks a couple of times. “You're kidding, right?”
“I'm really not.”
“Dude! He's the guy you had a fight with at the very start of the year! The guy who tripped you and told you to clean his shoe!”
Tripped him? Told him to clean his shoe? That sounds like a real jerk. But Pang has no memory of him whatsoever, if not for a strange feeling that's running through his stomach and giving him a headache. “Listen, I don't remember him. I'm serious.”
Nac scoffs. “Well, whatever. All you need to know is that he's a pretentious asshole who looks down on anyone who's got lower grades than he does.”
That's so fucking pointless Pang kind of wants to scream. That sort of attitude has always annoyed him, but for some reason something inside of him actually roars when he hears those words, with an anger he didn't even know he had. “That sucks big time,” it's all he manages to say.
“Yeah” Nac agrees. “So, how about you beat his ass at that chess game tomorrow?”
Pang laughs. “It's, well, a chess game, dude. I'm not even going to touch the guy.”
“Well, metaphorically, you're metaphorically going to beat his ass!”
He chuckles. “Alright. I'mma try, at least.”
):)
Wave has not anticipated that Pang would be competing in that stupid chess game Namtaarn has signed him up for. Punn has been trying to avoid using his potential too often, and Claire has been careful to not let him partecipate in anything that could ignite his competitiveness, just in case. Khun Pom still wanted one of them to take part though, to represent the school's greatest assets or something, so Namtaarn has done the job in his place, writing his name down in the list of the partecipants, because “you seem kind of down, lately, Wave: maybe this will help lighten up your mood”. Wave tries to feel grateful and fails miserably the moment he realizes Pang will be his opponent in the upcoming game of the next evening.
He hasn't told any of his classmates about Pang - not yet. He knows he has to. He can see they're all struggling somehow, having these weird moments of confusion, like they're trying to remember something, like something is missing, but they can't figure out what that is. Especially Ohm and Namtaarn.
He was feeling the same way, until he came upon some old files on his computer: recordings he didn't even recall ever doing of the daily life of a boy living in one of the Gifted's rooms - a boy he did not remember in the slightest. The thought of having done something and not baring memories of it was driving him insane, therefore he decided to sneak out in that room as soon as he found a way around the security system of the school. The moment he placed his hand on the door handle, a huge headache had him close his eyes and rub his forehead with his other hand. He entered the room, and found it almost empty, if not for a bed, some bare furniture, and one of the school's laptop standing over the desk. He turned it on, hoping to find something that would give him answers, but it was brand new, and its desktop didn't show any sign of anyone having used it before; illogically, Wave still decided to use his potential on it: he could feel something was out of place - missing, in fact - and he just had to go through with it, to make sure he had done his best to find out what that was all about. A couple of minutes later, his potential revealed the computer had been used before, and there were several files on it, files that Wave immediately shared on his phone through a private Bluetooth.
He went back into his room in a hurry, and when he checked the videos he felt like a hurricane was taking over his mind. A whirlwind of memories, thoughts, words, moments he had shared with someone and then forgot about, feelings, emotions... it all came back to him in a bunch of seconds that felt like months of his life - probably because they had been. He was breathing really fast, and soon realized tears were falling down his face. He took his glasses off and wiped them out.
Pang. Not something, but someone had been missing - from all of their lives, from his life. The Director and Khun Pom had taken Pang away from him.
The amount of wrath he felt when that thought sparkled in his mind was undescribable - not just towards them. Pang had betrayed him, lied to him and risked taking his potential away from him. Wave had once again been screwed over by someone he had trusted.
That's why he now has no idea what to do. Over the course of the days, his anger has turned into something else - something he can't quite put his fingers on, but less intense for sure. Now he sees Pang's face on the billboard that shows names and pictures of the two opponents for the match of the following day, and he can't stop his heart from swimming enthusiastically in his ribcage. After all, it's still the boy he... the boy he has a crush on.
No, that's not it. Maybe he can't quite say he's in love with Pang already, but what he feels for him is definitely more than a silly crush. And despite the sadness, despite the rage, despite the disappointment... he still cares for him, more than he'd like to admit.
It's pointless to keep wondering, to keep thinking about it as if the answer will just suddenly come up from the sky. He will make up his mind after his match with Pang: that'll tell him what to do, when and if to give him back his memories, when and if to give them back to his Gifted friends. It's an heavy weight to take upon his shoulders, but he knows he can't just ignore this whole situation as if he never remembered a thing about Pang. A small part of him wishes he actually hadn't.
):)
Seeing Pang like this makes him feel uneasy. His lack of confidence used to piss him off back when he still hated his guts. Why are you here, then, in my same class, breathing my same air, if you think so low of yourself? If you're so worthless? That's what he used to think. Jokes on him, though, since Pang starting to believe in himself and developing a proper personality has meant the beginning of the end for all of them.
Now, seeing him doubting his own intelligence makes him sick to his stomach, but for very different reasons.
“It's not like I'm going to win anyway,” Pang murmurs to his friend, Nac. “Don't put too much faith in it, okay?”
“You can do it, Pang!” says Nac. “I believe in you.”
Wave closes his hand into a fist and bites his lips. It's pathetic, and he knows it, but he can't help but feel a little jealous. He wants to be the one cheering Pang up. He would do it in his own way - never cheesy, never soft, but sincere, and Pang would get it.
“Are we starting or not?” he asks, and it comes out grumpier than he meant to.
Pang is clearly startled by his words, and blinks twice before sending him an apologetic little smile. “Sure. Let's get this over with.”
Wave puffs. “If you don't think you can win, why are you even playing?”
Pang looks surprised once again. Nac frowns, as if he can't make sense of Wave's question. “Mh, well, I guess you have a point. But I saw your winning record. You obviously know what you're doing, you're really skilled.”
“I am,” Wave says, “but so are you, judging by your winning record.”
That sentence makes Pang smile in a much more genuine way. It's like he's flattered by the compliment, and Wave feels blood rushing to his cheeks at the thought. Fuck, he hates this.
“Thanks. May the best win, then.”
Wave nods. It's going to be a fun match, he supposes. If he gets to focus on the game instead of Pang's face, at least some of the anxiety that's resting on his shoulders might disappear; or he sure as hell hopes so.
):)
When Wave checkmates him, Pang is shocked to realize he actually feels disappointed. Wave's words have woken up something inside of him, and while they have been playing he has been so focused on the match that he has barely even heard Nac's cheering, too busy following Wave's moves and thinking about his own. And the reason why he's so disappointed is that he actually has almost won, he has come really close to it, but then all of a sudden Wave has turned the situation upside down and Pang has found himself losing before he could even understand how it's happened. Wave's really good, as good as Pang anticipated, even more so, if he has to be honest; but what surprised him the most was that he's actually managed to properly give him a hard time.
“That was fun,” Wave tells him when they're done, and Pang is inclined to think he actually means it.
“It was!” he answers. “You're super good at this, Wave.”
Wave smiles, and it feels sincere. “I'm good at a lot of things,” he comments, “and logic and maths are kind of my thing. But... well, you really played... You were really good, too.”
Somehow, those words mean a lot to him. They feel validating. “Thanks!”
Wave nods. “If you ever want a re-match...”
“I do!” Pang finds himself answering before he can even think about it.
Wave snorts. “Fine, then. We can play again, sometime.”
Is it normal for him to suddenly feel so happy? It's just an arrangement made for a chess game with a schoolmate. However, Nac told Pang that Wave is kind of a loner, someone who'd rather stay by himself than hang out with his friends, someone who only opens his mouth to put people down or to show off his talents. Taking all of that into account, Wave's invitation sounds like some sort of big deal.
After Wave has gone back to the Gifted classroom, Nac shoves his shoulder. “What the hell was that?”
Pang shrugs. “I have no idea.”
“He was being nice,” Nac highlights. “It almost gave me chills.”
Pang laughs. “Well, maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was?”
“I can't believe you don't remember about him tripping you, Pang. If you did, you'd be as shocked as I am right now.”
He guffaws, picturing the scene happening, creating a mental image of Wave smirking at him as he just made him fall to the ground. “I swear I don't. But yeah, well, people change, I guess?”
Nac rubs his chin, deep in thought. “Well, I must admit that over the last couple of months he's been less insufferable than usual. He seemed kind of... happier, I guess.”
“Maybe he fell in love” Pang tries, and means it as a joke, but Nac takes it seriously: “Wave? In love? Right. It'll be a cold day in hell before that ever happens.”
):)
The next day, Pang is waiting for him outside of the Gifted classroom. When they're done with Khun Pom's lesson, and Ohm opens the door to head out, he almost falls all over him. Pang apologizes shrilly, and that's when Wave hears his voice, unmistakable between any. He immediately turns his head in their direction, and sees Pang saying sorry to Ohm, a polite wai followed by a bow of his head. Ohm laughs it off and pats his shoulder.
“It's okay, man. Are you all right?”
Pang nods. “I'm really sorry. I'm just waiting for Wave.”
Wave swallows hard, and feels kind of uncomfortable when all of his friends' eyes fall on him.
“You... are?” Ohm asks, half curious, half amused, and turns around to look at Wave. “He your friend?”
Wave coughs. “No,” he says - and doesn't dare to look at Pang in the eyes to see if he's disappointed by that answer. Well, why would he? They're not friends in this... timeline, or whatever. They barely know each other. He didn't lie. “He- he's the guy who played against me at the chess competition finals” he explains.
Ohm smirks. “Ohw. He's the guy who almost beat you!” And then, before waiting for Wave's comeback, he gives Pang a slap on his back and laughs. “You are our hero.”
Some of the others grin or laugh, Wave just shakes his head, pretending to be annoyed. “Well, he almost beat me.”
Pang nods, Ohm pouts. They joke about it for a couple more minutes, then the others leave. He's still packing up his pencils and notebooks, and is doing so as slowly as he can, hoping he won't have to look at his face too soon. He knows it's dumb. He knows this Pang is not his Pang - or rather the Pang he thought could be his and ultimately really wasn't. He still can't help to feel on edge being alone with him, though.
“Sorry for showing up like this,” Pang breaks the silence, “but I realized we didn't exchange phone numbers. So I really didn't know how else to reach you without-”
“Your best friend is a classmate of mine” Wave points out - and then hands him his phone, stretching his arm without turning his head. The words your best friend kind of sting in a way he has not foretold.
“Yeah, about that...” Pang coughs. “I know, but you guys don't seem to be on the best of terms.”
Wave snorts.
“I didn't mean to upset you.”
“You didn't” he grants, and grabs his phone when Pang gives it back. “It's okay. Also, if you just wanted a re-match, we can have one right away.”
“Sure?” he asks, and sounds eager, hopeful.
Wave finally manages to look at him in the eyes, and finds himself holding his breath. Pang's smile is more blinding that he thought it would be, and his eyes are sparkling with excitment. Pang never mentioned to have a passion for chess during the many months they have been friends. Which means, well—Wave interjects that thought right away. There's no need for him to get his hopes up about something that's never going to happen.
He tries to act nonchalantly and nods. “Yeah. Sure.”
):)
They're in his room, sitting at his desk. It's nothing that hasn't happened before, but Pang doesn't know that. He doesn't remember about coming to his room at 2 am because he needed to talk about the specifics of what they were going to do the day after, nor he remembers about laying on his floor, tired and sleepy, while Wave was explaining to him how to do his math exercises before the upcoming exam. He looks around with a doozy look that Wave can't help but find extremely adorable.
“Wow! This room is huge.”
Wave smiles. “I guess.”
“You guess?” he asks, half accusatory, half shocked. “Man, this is twice the room I share with Nac. And he's a class 1 one kid, so he gets one bigger that my classmates' anyway.”
There it is, Wave thinks. It feels almost alienating to see him talking like that, but lacking the amount of awareness he will acquire once he gives him back his memories. Which... will be soon. Or soon enough. “You don't think that's fair, do you?”
Pang stares at him with a blank expression for a couple of seconds, then he gives him half a sly smile and scratches his head. “Mh, Wave, we've only known each other for two days. I don't want you to hate me.” He doesn't sound all that worried, though, to be honest.
Wave tilts his chin in his direction and snaps his tongue against his palate. “Speak your mind, Pang. I won't hate you.”
Pang looks like he's considering whether or not Wave means what he just said. Then he curls his lips up, raises his eyebrows and shrugs. “No, I don't think that's fair.”
“And why's that? I studied hard to get where I am. Don't you think I deserve it?” He's testing him. Which is dumb, because he already knows what Pang's going to say, or he can assume most of it. However, he's drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and he does want to hear it from his mouth.
“Oh, I'm sure you have!” Pang grants, “I wasn't trying to say that you don't deserve it. I'm just saying I don't think having a big, comfy room should depend on whether you study hard or not. I guess all I'm saying is that, while it is true that you deserve it, I can't see why my classmates don't.”
Wave bites his lips and nods. “So we should all have big, comfy rooms? Regardless of our grades? It's just not possible to make that many rooms of this size in our dormitory.”
Pang raises his arms and shows him the palm of his hands. “Then we could all just have medium sized rooms. It's not like we need a big room anyway. It's not a necessity.”
“It's a privilege” Wave comments.
“That's right!” Pang snaps. “And I don't think that's fair at all.”
“Well,” Wave retorts, for the sake of it, “how is it not fair if we all have a chance to get there? Like your friend Nac. And you could also get, say, in class 1, if you focused a bit more on your studyings.”
“Mh,” Pang mumbles, “in a way, I'm not saying you're wrong. But it's not entirely true that we can all get there. Like, everyone learns in a different way. You may not believe it, but I have several classmates who actually work their asses off on our books. They're just... I don't know... slower learners, you could say? And, well, maybe one day they'll get in class 7, or 5, but with how often we take tests and exams and shit, I don't really see them ever getting in class 1, to be honest. But it's not like they are not good enough, or like they don't study. It's not like they don't deserve it. And also...” he apparently realizes he's been having some sort of monologue, all by himself, while looking down on the floor, or at all sides of Wave's room. When his eyes actually do lay on Wave, he narrows his lips into a line, and scratches his head again. “Sorry!” he says.
Wave snorts. “Don't apologize. You can finish your speech.”
“It wasn't a speech!”
“It kind of was.”
Pang puffs. “I was just saying that... Well, that even if we don't really work that hard on our studies, I don't think that it should, like, get us so many malus. I'm not against giving some bonus for your efforts if you study hard, since that's what you're supposed to do as a student, I guess, but why am I supposed to eat what's left of you guys' picks at lunch, just because I don't like studying all that much?”
Wave laughs. “I knew this was about your lunch.”
“It isn't!” Pang shouts. “Come on, you know that's not-”
“Yes, Pang, I know. I was just messing with you.”
Pang blinks a couple of times, and then laughs too. “Oh, okay” he comments. “So, what do you think?”
“About what you said?”
“Yeah.”
“I agree with most of it,” he says. “I also think this sort of system kind of just puts us against one another, and makes us believe our worth is tied up with our grades. Which it isn't.”
Pang lights up. He smiles widely and his eyes are shining, as if Wave just announced that Christmas is coming earlier this year. “Yes!” he goes, all excited, “I absolutely agree with all that you just said.”
Wave grins. “I had a hunch you would.”
):)
Wave tells himself that there is absolutely nothing wrong with what he's planning to do: giving Pang his memories in about a couple of weeks won't change the course of his life anyway.
Or will it? Who knows.
His conscience is driving him insane.
Wave tells himself he deserves it. He deserves to know how it would be like to be friends with Pang without any supernatural abilities involved. He deserves to know if the feelings he has towards him would still be there even if Pang is not currently the fervent revolutionary he's learnt to love during the past four months of his life, before someone erased his memories and took Pang away from him; before Pang betrayed him.
The point is: this version of Pang didn't do anything wrong. This version of Pang smiles a lot more often than the other, and is more sincere, and Wave can read him like an open book. This Pang didn't go behind his back and broke the trust Wave had developed for him. This Pang is adorable, and carefree, and at some point Wave even wonders whether it'd be better to just... let him be. Wouldn't it be more compassionate to just let him have a normal life? To give him back his memories would be a burden, it would place a huge weight on his shoulders, and Wave likes it to see them so light and relaxed at the moment. He likes this version of Pang just as much as he liked the original, because he has to come to terms with the fact that he just kind of likes Pang as a whole.
The way he is now... is not a big surprise to Wave, if he has to be honest with himself. Pang never stopped being like this, but it's like he put the goofy, happy-go-lucky side of himself at rest as soon as he realized he had to focus on something important, something that mattered to him way more than grades and tests and glory. And Wave respected that, he liked that. But he must admit he also likes it to see him free to just... be. To just exist, without any big purpose to achieve, a greater good to preserve. Wave likes to see him act like an actual sixteen year old.
“You seriously don't have any videogames?”
Wave eyerolls so hard he worries his eyes might come out of their orbs. “How many times do I have-”
“But that's just not how it's supposed to be, Wave,” Pang states, as sure of himself as ever, “I will bring some games next time, and my console too. You can choose which game to play.”
“How generous of you,” he mocks him.
“You will be thanking me instead of making fun of me” Pang assures him.
“Fine,” Wave says, and can feel the smile on his face, in spite of himself. “But I will only play your little games if you pass your next math exam with a decent grade.”
They're both sitting on the floor, legs crossed, and Pang pretends to fall unconscious on the ground, with a sound that's not very believable. Wave does his best not to laugh. “Tell me, Wave,” he starts, eyes closed, head still on the floor, “is it true that you once tripped me?”
Wave blinks three times, then swallows. “What?”
Pang opens one eye, and looks at him with a wrinkled smile. “Nac told me that you tripped me, in the past, like at the start of the year, and even asked me to clean your shoe. But I don't remember that happening at all. And right now I must say it sounds quite out of character.”
“Does it?” Wave asks, with a smirk. “I can be very cruel, Pang.”
He nods, then rises his back again, and puts his hands on his knees. “I can believe that,” Pang says, “but you've never been cruel to me. And I don't see that changing anytime soon.”
Wave's painfully aware of the blood slowly raising to his cheeks and ears. “Oh, yeah? Why's that?”
Pang smiles teasingly, gets closer to him and pats Wave's head. Wave slaps his hand. Pang laughs. “Because you obviously like me a lot,” he says, and Wave frezees. “I'm your favorite person, I can feel it.”
“We've-” His voice is rough, so he coughs to clear it. “We've known each other for six days.” He knows it's not true; but it's supposed to at least be true to Pang.
Pang shrugs. “I don't know how to explain it,” he tells him, “but sometimes, when we're together, it feels like I've known you for a long time.”
Don't do this. Don't do this, Pang. Wave doesn't say anything back.
They stay silent for a couple of minutes. Pang's looking at him in a way that's new, and indecipherable. His old Pang never did, and Wave doesn't know what to do with it. “Do you ever feel like that?” Pang asks him. The look in his eyes betrays his eagerness to know the answer.
Wave could just say that it's not the same for him. He could just lie, and say Pang's not all that important to him, that he's getting ahead of himself. He could tell him that he sees him as a friend like any other and nothing more. It would be safer, for this short term relationship, and for himself.
But he doesn't.
“Yeah, I- I do, at times.”
The smirk Pang sends him in return makes something in his stomach twist and his cheeks burn.
):)
When Pang asks him about his parents, Wave almost chokes on his dinner.
They have never talked about their families before the downfall—that's how Wave's brain has labeled the whole shitshow that happened that evening of three months before. Pang knew his parents are dead, because Namtaarn knows too and she told him. Wave's aware Pang never came back home for any holidays, never even called his mom for a greeting or received a letter—at least that he knows of. Wave never said anything about it, but one day, as Christmas was approaching, he did try to bring up the topic by asking: “What do you think you'll get from your folks? Anything you wish for?”.
Pang just shrugged and answered: “Don't know. My mom will probably send a sweater or stuff like that.”
He wasn't meeting Wave's stare, just doodling on a notebook, looking kind of sad all of a sudden. Wave never liked to see him like that, so he changed the subject by giving him his own gift: a pair of yellow socks.
Pang smiled so hard his jaw must have ached. He looked up at Wave with a grin, waved the socks around and asked: “For me?”.
Wave gave him an eyeroll. “Yes, dumbass. For you. You... you have a lot of... yellow stuff. Your desk- I- I just assumed you like it.”
Pang nodded, his mouth still in the shape of a curve. “I do. I love it. And I love these, too.”
That was the uncomfortable part Wave had somehow foreseen. Handing him his gift might have been easy, but handling the afterward was not. He had no idea how to respond to gratefulness, so he just sent him half a smile and then sat on the floor, legs crossed. Pang got up from the chair he was sitting on and followed him, back against his bed, knees and arms against Wave's. Wave felt gooseboomps all over his body.
“Why are you giving them to me three days before Christmas, though? My gift for you isn't ready yet. It's not fair.”
Wave knows he blushed from head to toe when he heard those words. My gift for you. He had not, very genuinely, expected a gift from Pang. “Giving a present the day of the celebration is basic and boring.”
Pang laughed, a very spontaneous laugh, and ruffled his own hair while he shaked his head. “Of course.”
“What do you mean by 'it's not ready yet'?” he asked him, after a couple of seconds of silence.
“Well, it's handmade. And I'm not done making it.”
Wave didn't answer him. He didn't trust himself to open his mouth and speak. Pang was going through the effort of making something for him with his own hands. A sudden image of his fingers working around something came to his mind, and then moved to something else, to the kind of thoughts he wasn't ready to let in yet, and so he just went and held his legs in his arms, placing his chin on his right knee. He coughed, and then said: “I see. Okay. It's fine if you're done with it after the twentyfifth anyway. Like I said: I don't care about receiving it during Christmas.”
Pang sent him a smile and nodded. He then let his full weight fall on the footboard of his bed. His shoulder was resting against Wave's and he was aware of the flushing of his cheeks, but there was nothing he could do about it. They just stood there, in silence, for over ten minutes.
“It was my dad's favorite too.”
“W-What?” That caught him off guard, but at least his sentence allowed him to focus on something that wasn't Pang's skin in contact with his own.
“Yellow. It was my dad's favorite color, too.”
Wave didn't ask him why he was using the past tense—he didn't have too. He simply nodded, and let Pang rest against him, as he put his brand new socks on.
Which is why he now doesn't know how to respond to Pang's question (“Your parents must be really proud of your grades”). It's not even a proper question, in all fairness, but it still requires some sort of answer. “They were.”
Pang doesn't react in the way Wave was fearing. He doesn't look at him with a gloomy face, with pity pouring out of his eyes. He doesn't put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, nor he apologizes for bringing this up. He just smiles at him—it's a painful smile, one that doesn't reach his pretty eyes—and nods, an understanding look on his face. “My dad never cared about grades, to be honest” he says, “but he was always proud when he knew I gave it my all. When he realized I was genuinely interested in something.”
Wave smiles. “You're a fast learner” he comments, “and once you make up your mind to do anything at all, there's no stopping you.”
Pang grins. “How'd you know?”
Because I saw it happen. Because you went behind my back to prove a point. Because you're a force of nature, a dangerous one even. Because that's what I love about you.
“I just do, Pang.”
):)
It's been eleven days, and Wave has kind of figured out how the memory erasing shit worked. Pang doesn't remember a thing about any of them. Khun Pom erased his memories of his former classmates altogether, regardless of which belonged to the Gifted program and which didn't. Pang meeting him before they even took the exam to become Gifted students didn't matter one bit: he still doesn't remember any of it. He must have made everyone in Class 8 forget about Pang's absence for a whole year, too, or else Wave wouldn't be able to explain how it is possible that Nac didn't mention a thing about Pang once belonging to the Gifted class; whether he replaced those memories with a lie, or just corrupted them, Wave can't tell.
What's weird about it is that Wave can't see this as a long term solution. Memories are difficult to work with, difficult to fully erase. He can see it in his friends' eyes, he can see it everytime they spot Pang at his side and their face just kind of beam, or still, and he can see it with how Pang is familiar with some things in a way he isn't supposed to be - they all know that there's something missing, something they're forgetting, something they are struggling to remember. They're all eventually going to put all the pieces together even if Wave doesn't move a finger—an option... he has considered, and discarded right away. Even if Wave hadn't kept those videos of the hidden camera in Pang's room, he still would have remembered him, at some point. It's hard for him to believe Director Supot would rely on such a flaky plan to keep Pang away from them.
“Earth to Wave” Pang flaps his math notebook in front of his face, and grins. “I'm so close to give up on this problem and you zone out? I might as well just turn the Play on...”
“Don't you dare” Wave answers back promptly, and kicks his leg. “You're almost done. And I already explained you how to solve that problem.”
“I know,” Pang groans, “but, Wave, this one's different and I- I'm bored out of my freaking mind.”
Wave does his best to suppress a fond smile. “Come on. Two more and we can call it a day. Focus.”
Pang puffs, but still does as he's told. He rubs his nose, scratches his knee, bites his lips, all while giving his full attention to his notebook. Then, all of a sudden, he just kind of yells “Ah!”, and starts writing on it. “I solved it” he announces, before handing the notebook to Wave.
He nods as he makes sense of Pang's messy handwriting. “Yeah, you did.”
“Yay” Pang gloats, and then lets himself fall on the ground of Wave's room. “Can we play now?”
“One more,” Wave tries, aware that he's anything but good at saying no to Pang.
“Please,” he begs, and then gives him puppy eyes. “Please, please, I'm so done with this stuff. I'm going to nail the exam anyway. One more won't make a difference.”
Wave snorts—and he must feel pretty daring, because he leans forwards and ruffles his hair, like he'd do with a good kid who just ate all of his vegetables. Pang only reacts to it with an amused smirk of a approval. “You better, Pang.”
):)
The moment Wave realizes that Director Supot couldn't care less about whether Pang regains his memories or not, he feels the blood in his veins suddenly become cold. It's a short instant. He's eating with Pang and Nac at their side of the cafeteria. Pang asked him to. He said, “I'm sure you can stoop to our level for just one day, Wave”, and then sent him a grin Wave would have gladly kissed away from his face.
Director Supot enters the cafeteria, and everyone stands up to greet him. He gives them all a polite smile, tells them to sit down and enjoy their meal. Wave feels his heartbeat rise uncontrollably, 'cause that's the first time that he's seeing them together since the downfall. Sure, he must know by now that he and Pang have become friends again—Khun Pom must have told him—, but this is different. Wave's aware he must act like he doesn't know a thing; like he and Pang just happened to get to know each other again and both of them are still in the dark about what happened less than a couple of months before. Wave thinks that's what Director Supot expects from them, so he just casually grabs his fork and sticks is in a piece of meat, brings it to his mouth and swallows. He almost chokes on it, when Director Supot looks at him right in the eye, just blatantly stares at him for what feels like hours; he then moves his look on Pang, who's actually unaware of it all and is currently laughing about something stupid that Nac's showing him on his phone. Supot brings his eyes on Wave again, and smiles—a cold, calculative, conscious smile, one that doesn't reach his eyes and that makes Wave feel like he's walking on thin ice—; and just like that, he leaves, turning around and never once looking back at Wave or Pang.
“Ai'Wave?” Pang calls for him. Those words feel like background noise. “Wave?” Pang's voice goes up and his tone sounds worried. Wave turns to his side to face him, and finds out both he and even Nac are looking at him apprehensively. “Is everything okay?” he asks him.
Wave nods, then coughs to clear his voice. “Yeah, sorry, I was just- Everything is fine.”
Nac just shrugs and goes back to eat his lunch, but Pang doesn't look like he has bought it. Wave sends him a small smile to reassure him, and Pang smiles too, but it doesn't feel genuine. All three of them finish eating their meal in silence.
):)
“So,” Nac starts, as if he's about to approach a sensitive subject, “you and Wave became pretty tight, huh?”
Pang gives him an eyeroll. “For the last time, he won't tell me what to study to get in the Gifted class. I asked him a couple of days ago.”
Nac snorts. “It's not about that. Although, I think he hasn't told you because you said I was the one interested in it.”
Pang bites his lips to hide an amused smirk, because Nac is probably right. “What is it about, then?”
His friend looks like he's carefully weighing his words. Nac never does that. He's pretty up-front, and Pang has always liked that about him. “Well, you know... You- You really seem happy when you're around him, and-”
“Ohw”, Pang gloats, delighted, “are you jealous, Nac? Don't worry: you're still my best friend.” He means it. What he and Wave have is entirely different from his relationship with Nac. He wouldn't know how to describe it, how to put it into words, but he's sure of it.
Nac frowns. “That's not- I'm not jealous, you asshole!” Pang reacts to that with a laugh, so Nac just gets more pissed off. “Listen, I just- I guess I was just curious- Wave also seems pretty happier lately, and-” Nac's torturing his hands with his own nails, and he's now looking at the floor, as if he can't handle Pang's stare. What... the hell? Pang didn't think this would be about something serious. “I guess what I'm trying to say is- rather, what I want to ask you... Are you and Wave a thing?”
Pang blinks a couple of times. He must have heard him wrong. “What?”
Nac scratches his cheek, and looks really uncomfortable. “I- You know, I mean, I don't have a problem with it. But you're my best friend, so... I'd like to know it, if you are-”
“If I'm what?” He's not entirely certain of why he's suddenly feeling kind of angry. “If I'm gay? Is that what you think?”
“I- Listen, I'm just asking. Don't take it personally. I wasn't trying to insult you.”
“Why would I feel insulted?”
Nac widens his eyes and gives him a look of disbelief. “I don't know, Pang! You're the one who sounded mad when I suggested-”
“I'm not mad.” He takes a deep breath. This is all so unexpected he feels almost under scrutiny. “I- I'm not mad.”
“Okay,” Nac states. They stay quiet for a couple of minutes. “You don't have to answer, I guess. If you don't want to.” He says that with a tone that makes it sound like he means the complete opposite.
“Oh, gee, thanks for the kind concession.”
“It's just- We share the same room, Pang. We literally showered together at my house. We slept together-”
“What. The. Hell.” He knows his cheeks are red and his head is aching. Nac is treating him like some sort of creep for something Pang himself hasn't even quite come to terms with. What he feels for Wave has nothing to do with him and Nac sleeping in the same bed anyway. “Wow, Nac. Just wow.”
“Pang, wait-” Nac does look pretty sorry for what he said, but right now Pang doesn't care. He grabs his backpack, puts it on his shoulder and gets out, ignoring Nac's pleadings. He doesn't even know where he's heading, but he knows he needs to clear his head as far away from him as possible.
):)
When Wave opens his door, he's ready to yell at whomever decided that it made sense to knock ten times in ten seconds, annoying him before he even looked at them in their face.
When Wave realizes who knocked on his door, his resolve to scold his guest dies with his angry frown. “... Pang?”
Pang is standing right in front of him, his face sweaty, his hair stuck on his forehead, his breath heavy. He's panting, and the look in his eyes seems kind of lost, or rather worried. “I- I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go.”
Wave swears he's seen this scene in several movies before, but pushes that thought away as he opens his door wide and waves his hand to signal him to get in. Pang does.
He sits on Wave's floor with his legs crossed, Wave raises his right knee to his chest and lets the other lay straight as he stretches his neck and closes his eye. His head is resting against the side of his bed, and he watches Pang as he uncomfortably looks around, as if this is the first time he's been in Wave's room. “So, what happened?”
Pang focuses his stare on him. He bites his lips and then shrugs.
Wave sends him a telling look. “Right. Nothing happened. That makes sense. Certainly explains why you look so fucked up.”
Pang snorts. “You're such an asshole.”
“Sue me for being curious” he retors, “and you're the one who came to me anyway.”
Pang nods. “Yeah, I know. Can we just... I don't know, talk about... anything at all? Entertain me, Wave.”
Wave kicks his leg, and pretends to be offended. “I'm not a clown.”
“No, but you're a good friend.” That startles Wave. He feels the blood rushing to his cheeks and can't find an appropriate immediate answer. Nobody has ever told him before, and hearing it from Pang makes it even... better? Warmer? He suddenly feels hot all over his face. “So, please, distract me, would you?” he asks, with that annoyingly charming smirk of him, and Wave doesn't have it in him to say no.
):)
Pang is aware that his tries at making that evening last forever aren't going anywhere. He knows he'll just have to ask him at some point—to ask Wave to let him spend the night in his room. The day before, or—hell—even less than six hours before, the idea wouldn't have made him feel this uneasy, or self-conscious. He's gonna have to ask the boy he has a crush on to sleep in the same room. The mere thought kind of makes his skin prickle.
“So, what's next? Did you try that zombie videogame I lent you?” he asks, wishful, although he can see Wave's already yawning. “Are you okay, old man?” Pang jokes, and puts his hands on Wave's shoulders in a fake attempt to hold him steady, as if he were an actual elder having troubles crossing the street.
Wave, predictably, scowls at him, and slaps his hands away. “Fucker,” he comments, and then rubs his eyes with his knuckles. “It's one a.m., and we have classes tomorrow.”
“We don't,” Pang corrects him, “it's Sunday tomorrow.”
Wave blinks and opens his mouth wide unintentionally. “Oh,” he says. “I forgot.”
Pang smiles at him. Wave slowly and shily reciprocates, and it's the prettiest smile Pang's ever seen.
“Well, regardless, it's still very late. I'm sleepy.”
Pang nods. “Yeah, okay.” He stands up, and starts fidgeting. He has to ask him. He does not want to go back to Nac's room. He knows he'll have to, eventually, but right now he's still too upset. And besides: Nac's the one who explicitly stated to be against the prospect of sharing his room with someone who's... well-
“You can stay the night, if you want.”
He turns to face him so fast he almost gives himself a headache. “What?”
Wave raises an eyebrow. “I'm not dumb, Pang.”
Pang swallows. He knows Wave isn't dumb. Still, he didn't think he'd be able to read him so well, like an open book. It's not the first time they pull an all-nighter watching something, or playing something, or even reading something—Pang's not really a reader, but listening to Wave's voice as he narrates his favorite books makes up for it. He thought he could have his urginess to not go back to his own room go unnoticed.
“I- Yeah. Yeah, it'd be great if- I really want to sleep here, if it's okay with you.”
Wave shakes his head up and down. “It is.”
Pang gives him a grateful smile, and Wave ruffles his head with too much pressure—Pang believes he does so on purpose. Still, even that little ache isn't enough to erase the smile from his face—if anything, it just makes it wider.
):)
Wave lends him a futon, and that's when Pang realizes he hasn't brought a pyjama to his room. “Oh, shit.”
Wave sighs. “You came here with the intention to spend the night and didn't think about bringing... well... anything? Do you at least have your toothbrush in your backpack?”
Pang holds his forehead with his hand and squeezes his eyes shut in disbelief. “No. I- It wasn't exactly a thought-out plan.”
Wave snorts. “I can see that.”
“Well, you could let me use yours...?”
Wave sends him a glare that's half outraged, half scandalized. “My toothbrush?”
Pang laughs, 'cause after all that reaction is pretty cute. “What's the big deal?”
“Well- It's- It's gross, that's what it is.” Wave mumbles, and that only makes Pang laugh even louder. Using Wave's toothbrush doesn't sound gross to him at all. If anything, now that he thinks about it, it'd be kind of a... kind of like... like an indirect kiss; well, one with tongue, at least. He feels himself blushing at the realization.
“Right. Okay. Never mind. I can use my fingers, I just need your toothpaste.”
Wave nods. “What about your clothes? I could lend you some, but I think they'd be-”
“Too short?” Pang suggests, with a grin that makes Wave's eyes thin and his mouth become a straigth line. It's immensely fun to annoy him, though.
“Fuck you,” he answers, “you can sleep in the ones you're wearing right now, for all I care.”
“Ohw, but Wave,” he whines, his voice as pitiful as he can manage to have it sound like, “I've been wearing these all day, they're not comfortable, you can't be so cruel-”
“I told you already,” Wave interrupts him, “I can be really cruel.”
Pang smirks. “Not to me, though.”
“Or so you think.”
“Nah, I'm pretty sure.” He gets really close to him, and feels so smug he could almost do something stupid and go for it, trap him against the wall with his arms, look at him in the eyes and slowly reach out to put his lips on Wave's. It'd be his first kiss. He wonders whether Wave has kissed someone before or not. He doesn't seem to have many friends, apart from his Gifted classmates, and even so Pang hasn't seen him spend much time with them, aside from a few afternoons with Namtaarn and Ohm, or with Claire. He's probably an introvert, which Pang respects, even though he'd call himself an extrovert. He thinks they'd make a nice couple, complementary despite being different.
“What?” Wave inquires, defensive, but doesn't seem uncomfortable with being a few inches away from his mouth. He mostly looks like he's on edge, like he's entering uncharted territory and doesn't really know what to do. Pang gets it.
He takes one step back and says: “Nothing. Will you lend me something to wear, please?” he bleats.
Wave puffs, shakes his head in disapproval, but still leans out to opens his closet and take something out of it. Pang smiles and counts it as a win.
):)
He can listen to his heartbeat racing, and can't help but feel quite pathetic. Pang's sleeping next to his bed, wrapped in the futon he lent him, but in the awkward silence of his room Wave can feel every breath he exales, every time he shifts and rubs his clothes—Wave's clothes—against the thick fabric of the futon, every sighs that excapes his mouth after he found a position he deems comfortable enough to let him sleep in peace. Pang never stayed over before the downfall; it was some sort of unspoken agreement that always sent him back to his own room after they spent the evening planning, or studying, or chatting. Pang never asked, and Wave never offered. He didn't know how.
Which is why he startled himself when he suggested Pang could sleep there with him. It wasn't planned. He understood Pang was kind of beating around the bush because he didn't want, for some reason, to go back to his and Nac's room. What did Nac do? Was history repeating itself—did he feel betrayed by Pang's interest in him, jealous even? He's not proud to acknowledge that the thought kind of makes him feel... fain. Which says a lot about him and the horrible person he is, but he doesn't care. Pang said once that he believed to be his favorite person in the whole world, and he was right—and Wave wants so desperately to be his, too. He invited him to spend the night because Pang had seemed so reluctant to go back to his own room that it gave Wave an odd sense of compassion. He doesn't want to see him sad or troubled, for any reason at all. It makes his heart ache more than Wave would allow if he had any sort of control over it.
“Wave?” Pang says, all of a sudden.
Wave swallows before answering. “What?”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Sure.”
Pang inhales and exhales loudly, and then goes: “It's kind of personal. Kind of... out of the blue. But I... want you to know.”
He can't predict what Pang might want to him to know, but the idea makes his heart flutter in a way that has him curse himself in his mind. “Go ahead. Tell me. I'll listen.”
“I... don't think I'm straight.”
... what?
Wave blinks several times before the words sink in his brain. Pang is... not straight; and, for some reason, he wanted Wave to know about it. Why? And... how does that make Wave feel? Pang not being straight opens a door of possibilities Wave honestly almost hoped would stay shut forever. His heart starts beating really fast and he has to take a deep breath before he replies: “Okay. Thanks... for telling me? I guess. Why are you telling me?”
“You... don't mind?”
What Wave would like to answer is that he's already had to deal with the prejudices he'd had about homosexuality—and all kinds of other sexualities aside from the hetero one—a long time ago. It all started when he first realized he had feelings for Pang. The thought of liking a guy like that had not even lingered around his mind until that fucker had come around. Wave... isn't sure he's even liked that many girls, either. When he was a kid, he kind of just picked a girl in his class he thought was interesting and smart and cute and then made up his mind that he would like her and maybe even pursue her—that way he'd have something to talk about with the boys in his class, something to gossip about with his mom when she asked him how things went in school and he'd not want to tell her about the little jokes, or little insults, he'd heard about himself from his classmates, when they thought he wasn't listening. In all honesty, though, all those crushes probably had never even been real; and as for his feelings towards Khun Nara, well, that was a little more complicated: maybe he'd really liked her, or maybe not, but more than anything he'd felt grateful, and happy, that someone was acknowledging his talents; in all likelihood, he mistook that gratefulness for love, and convinced himself he was head over the heels for her. Ew.
In a way, he could say Pang is his first. It took him quite some time to accept that, to face the fact that the way his heart beat when he was with Pang, the way he felt actual fucking butterflies in his stomach everytime Pang was being nice to him, the way his skin burned at every rare touch, every time Pang brushed Wave's shoulder with his hand or grazed Wave's knee with his own, meant something for him that was entirely different from regular friendship. When he first masturbated thinking about Pang's body, he felt an absurd rush of shame afterwards, he wondered what Pang's reaction would have been if he'd known, wondered what was wrong with himself for being like that, for liking that. They weren't just thoughts, just fantasies—he genuinely wanted to touch him, to kiss him, he even dared to dream about cuddling with him, it was getting kind of ridicoulus, and it never actually got better if he has to be honest with himself.
He hasn't chosen a label or anything. Some of the stuff he's read about demisexuality hasn't really left his brain ever since, but he has no intention to use it to describe himself just yet. Somehow, the thought of not liking girls at all makes him feel less manly, as if telling people he's gay would be emasculating—and he knows that's not true at all, but the thought alone can't let him feel comfortable with that lable either, so he kind of just gave up finding one that would fit him for the time being.
Of course, he can't tell Pang any of that anyway; so he just replies: “No, Pang. I don't mind at all.”
He hears the other breathe a sigh of relief. Has he been worried he'd be grossed out? Wave has been, in fact—worried, when he was the one wondering about that sort of stuff—, so he gets it.
“Okay. Thanks.”
He feels like he should add something. Anything. Maybe ask him some questions, show that he cares even though he won't make a big deal out of it. “So, you, uh- What do you think you are, then?”
“What?”
“Uh-” This is awkward. This is really, really awkward. “I just meant- You said you don't think you're straight. Then, what do you think you are?”
“Oh,” Pang says, “oh, that- that I don't know yet, to be honest.”
Wave feels irrationally and selfishly grateful for his answer, as if Pang being in the same shoes as him makes them stand on equal ground. “That's okay.”
He stays silent for a bunch of seconds. It feels tense, but then he adds: “What, uh-” he mutters, “what options do I have?”
Of course Pang wants to sort this out with him, right fucking now. Wave shouldn't have asked, the mistake was his. “Your options, huh?” he mumbles, “Well, you said you're not straight, which means you're into boys, right?” He hears the noise of the fabric of his futon and it takes him a couple of seconds to understand that Pang probably just nodded. “Well, then-”
“Although,” he interrupts him, abruptly, as if he's just thought of something and couldn't contain himself, “to be honest, it's not like... I've never really liked boys? Or, at least, I've never noticed. Like, I've never thought of a guy like that.”
“O-kay” Wave hesitates, “then, uhm, why- I mean, you said that-”
“Yeah, I, uh-” Pang is obviously nervous, and the tone of his voice is quite adorable, so much that Wave would come out of bed, sit next to him and hug him tightly just to make him feel better. He doesn't. “I like one specific boy.”
“Oh,” Wave suddenly feels cold all over, sweaty even. He swallows and takes his time to ask him: “You mean, like, currently?”
He can feel the smile in Pang's words when he says: “Yeah. Currently.” It's like the agitation he's felt up until that moment has disappeared in the blink of an eye, right after Wave's question. His voice when he replied even sounded like he was teasing him, like he's being smug offhandedly.
Wave has no idea how to react to that.
:):
Pang knows he's being daring. He can't help it. At this point, he feels like everything is going too fast, but he also feels optimistic about the assumption that his feelings for Wave are not unrequited. He can afford to be daring—and what's the point of living if you don't take some risks anyway?
“I see,” Wave answers, and his voice is trembling. Pang smiles, because he bets the agitated look on his face must be undeniably lovable. “Well, then, if you like him, uh, I guess you could say you're bisexual.”
Oh. Right. They were talking about sexualities. Wave's listing his options. “Okay. Bisexual. I might have heard of that.”
“Or you could be pan, or even ace I guess.”
“Uhm,” he mumbles, “what, uh, what do those mean?”
“Well, the definition of bisexuality is 'attraction to all genders'; there are people, though, who like to highlight how, uh, how they basically don't have any... preferences, you could say. They call themselves pansexuals.”
“Oh, okay. Preferences, right? Uhm, I don't know, to be honest. I guess I do like girls more than boys? Or, I don't know, that's- I don't know, Wave. I've never thought about it.”
“It's okay,” Wave's tone is comforting. He sounds like he's trying his best to make him feel at ease with this conversation. Pang appreciates that a lot. “It's not like you have to choose a label. And there are bisexuals who don't have specific preferences anyway. You don't have to think too hard about that. Just go with whichever feels more... I don't know. Yours. Like you could wear it. Like a piece of clothing that fits comfortable on you.”
Pang smiles. “That's adorable.”
“Shut up.”
He laughs, can't avoid it. Wave is so cute. “What about that other word?”
“Hm?”
“A...ce?”
“Oh. Ace. Asexual. Well, that's slightly more complicated- I've not read enough about it to explain it properly. We can do some research together, if you want.”
Pang doesn't want this to be complicated. Maybe Wave is right, and he shouldn't stress about labeling himself at all. He'd never even thought about it, until Nac brought up the subject. Unlike Wave, who's obviously already knowledged about this topic, he's never wondered about this sort of thing, nor he's cared about people's sexualities, unless he had a crush on them. He does have a crush on Wave, though, and he can't help but wonder...
“How come you know so much about this stuff?”
Wave takes a while to reply. “It's just common knowledge.”
“It's really not,” he retorts—and, while he can't be entirely sure of that, he feels confident in his assumption.
Wave puffs, and does not answer him. They stay silent for a couple of minutes. “Say, Pang,” he suddenly begins, “that guy you like... Does he like you back?”
Pang smirks and moistens his lips before saying: “I think he does.”
Wave coughs. “What do you like about him?”
“I like everything about him.” Pang doesn't even hesitate. “He's super smart. He knows a lot about a lot of things. Even things that aren't exactly... common knowledge.”
He hears Wave swallow and listens to the fabric of his blanket rubbing against his feet, as he's fidgeting.
Pang smiles. “He's kind of a nerd, but in a cool way. He's funny, and he can be very endearing. He's also really kind.”
“Kind?” Wave echoes, and sounds surprised.
“Yeah” Pang confirms, “kind.” Kind enough to let me sleep in his room with no explanations needed, despite being obviously mindful of his personal space and uncomfortable with last minute plans, Pang thinks, but he doesn't dare say it.
“I see. That's it?”
“I like his face,” he admits, “it's really cute.”
He swears he can feel Wave's blushing, even though he can't see him. “Cute?”
“Very,” he says. “I'm still getting to know him,” he adds, and he's as honest as ever, “but what I can tell you is that I feel good around him. Really good.”
A few more minutes pass before Wave replies: “He sounds like a dream. I guess you'd even consider dating him.”
Pang laughs, can't help it, because Wave is playing super dirty right now; but it's okay. He doesn't mind. “Of course I would,” he says. “I don't know much about dating. I... I guess I don't even know what to expect from a relationship that I couldn't get out of a friendship,” he confesses. It's always been like that for him. He'd never really got butterflies running through his stomach, never really understood why people in love always made it sound like such a big deal. He still knows he likes Wave, though. He's never felt this way around anyone else in his entire life. “Maybe he'd be disappointed,” he hears himself saying, “maybe he doesn't think I'm good enough for him.”
“That's not true,” Wave rushes into his answer, and Pang feels a sudden stream of happiness in every bone and muscle and vein of his body. “I mean,” he corrects himself, and coughs to clear his panicked voice, “I'm sure he doesn't think that. Why would he think that? You are...”
“I am...?” Pang asks, and knows he's sounding taunting.
Wave puffs, then clicks his tongue against his palate. “You're a lot of things, Pang. I'm certain he doesn't think low of you. Rest assured of that.”
Pang smiles, fondly, and can't find anything snarky to reply to him for the time being. He feels hot all of a sudden, his cheeks are burning, and something warm is cradling his heart from the inside. He feels like they can call it a night: they've both had their fair share of surprises and revelations already. “I- Thanks. Really, thank you. Sorry if I kept you awake. We should go to sleep. Sweet- Sweet dreams, Wave.”
Wave takes a couple of seconds to answer: “Yeah, okay. Good night, Pang. Sweet dreams.”