Chapter Text
"Do you think boss will come to see my school play?”
It’s something Ohm has been thinking about for a while, ever since the Phi in charge of the theater club had announced that they would be doing an official performance for Christmas. Before, he didn’t really have any friends, so there was no one for him to invite, but now that he’s become a member of the Tsunami gang, his future prospects seemed a little bit better.
He even heard before that P’Saint, the infamous Tsunami himself, had gone more than once to support one of the other guys at his football game. Encouraged by this rumor, Ohm has spent the past few days frantically gathering enough courage to invite P’Saint to his play. Just to be sure, he thought he’d ask some of the other guys first. Having been in the gang for a much longer time they would surely know if this was a good idea.
The question is apparently strange enough for the other three boys at the table to immediately stop talking, turning their heads to stare at Ohm in disbelief. P’Tan even drops the chicken leg he’s been chewing, splashing the two poor souls unlucky enough to be sitting next to him with the remnants of his chicken noodle soup.
“Ai’Taaan, you fucking idiot, do your hands grow out of your fucking ass? This is my only school shirt; my mom will kill me if she has to wash it one more time this week.” P’Pun lets out another string of very colorful curses, grabbing a few tissues and trying to salvage his shirt from the greasy stains. “And you, newbie, what the fuck? What kind of question is that?”
Ohm ducks his head guiltily, his face red with embarrassment. He’d been so nervous to join the famous Tsunami gang, had promised himself to keep his head low and to not get into any trouble, and yet here he was on month two of his official membership, asking apparently stupid questions and drawing everyone’s attention to himself. Maybe it really was a ridiculous idea; to hope that by some miracle after only a few months someone would want to come and support him.
Chastised, he hurries to explain himself.
“Well, yesterday I heard him say that we won’t fight the Panters on Thursday because P’Shin has a football game and P’Saint has to be there…” Saying it out loud does make his question sound a little bit stupid, but Ohm also feels like his previous assumption wasn’t completely unfounded. “I mean, I know I’m new, so P’Saint probably doesn’t care about me as much as he does about you guys, but-”
“That’s just for Shin, dumbass,” P’Kan, seated to P’Tan’s left and completely unbothered about the drop of chicken soup clinging to his cheek, stretches out a hand across the table to poke Ohm in the forehead. “You’ll get used to it. But don’t say anything about it where boss can hear if you don’t want him to kick your ass.”
“Ai’Kan is right, we all know boss is weird about Shin, we just don’t mention it.” P’Pun, having given up on trying to salvage his shirt, knocks on the table with his chopsticks for emphasis. His eyes are unexpectedly serious, as if he’s sharing some sort of a grave secret. Ohm shivers involuntarily, even though it’s suffocatingly hot outside.
“Yeah, Saint doesn’t give two rats’ asses about any of our extracurricular activities,” here, P’Tan pretends to wipe off a tear, almost whacking an exasperated P’Pun in the face with his elbow. “It’s honestly so unfair. All of this fighting leaves me with no strength for my one true passion…”
Tuning out the rest of P’Tan’s dramatic speech, Ohm muses on it for a while, the somewhat heavy air hanging over the table disrupted only by the slurping noises as P’Tan struggles to finish his soup while maintaining the flow of nonsense spilling out of his mouth.
P’Saint does treat P’Shin differently; he’d noticed it even before he finally managed to join the gang. Where everyone else following the great Tsunami would always walk a few steps behind him as a show of respect, P’Shin would instead be right by his side, P’Saint’s arm slung around his shoulders. P’Shin could also do what no one else dared and smack P’Saint on the head or playfully kick him, and their boss would just let him. P’Saint also seemed to religiously follow the schedule of P’Shin’s football practices, taking him there on his motorbike every time. Having considered all these facts, the logical conclusion would be…
“Are they dating?” This time, P’Tan chokes on the last mouthful of his soup, and coughs it up right into P’Pun’s livid face. P’Kan, luckily spared from the unfortunate incident, just lets out a long sigh.
“Newbie, I’ve just told you not to talk about it. Do you have the memory span of a fucking goldfish?”
“I don’t think it’s anything bad…” seeing them so worked up, Ohm feels the need to explain himself. It’s not like he cares if the fearsome Tsunami gang leader is dating a guy, it just seems like the only logical explanation for such preferential treatment. “Are they not?”
“I mean… Saint peels garlic for him every time we all go out to eat,” P’Tan wheezes out from where a furious P’Pun has him in a chokehold. “I don’t even do that for my girlfriend.”
“That’s because you are a shit boyfriend, my friend,” P’Kan makes no move to help P’Tan, so Ohm also decides not to interfere. P’Pun won’t really go as far as to actually murder P’Tan. At least not here, where everyone can see them. Probably…
“Ai’Pun, man, I’m sorry. Let me go, na?”
When P’Pun remains unmoved in the face of P’Tan’s pleading eyes, the latter resolves to the underhanded strategy of starting to chew on P’Pun’s shirt. Some people just never learn, Ohm sighs internally. He’s observed P’Pun for long enough to know that P’Tan’s corpse will never be found.
As a good junior, Ohm will remember to light an incense stick for him next time he’s at the temple.
“He also always drops Ai’Shin off and picks him up after practice,” somehow, P’Tan still has enough air left in his lungs to keep talking. “That’s like… almost every day. Man, I wouldn’t do it even if my girl paid me.”
“That’s still because you are a shit boyfriend. Pun, let him go already, he’s getting blue in the face.”
His enthusiasm not even slightly diminished by the scuffle, P’Tan tugs his rumpled shirt back into place and leans forward onto the table, his eyes sparkling mischievously. Ohm should probably mention that despite his best efforts his hair still looks like it had been chewed on by a cow (not that Ohm would have any first-hand experience with that, of course not, what are you even talking about), but then he did promise to keep a low profile, so pretending to be blind it is.
“Ai’Shin doesn’t even really do anything. Every time there is a fight boss has to drag him by the hand, and somehow, he’s still second-in-command. Why would he keep someone like that around if they weren’t…you know…” leaning even further onto the table, P’Tan wiggles his brows in what is probably supposed to be a suggestive manner, but considering his lack of control over his eyebrow muscles it looks more like he’s having a stroke. Ohm decides not to mention that either. “I say they definitely are a thing.”
“You sure are wise beyond your years, dear friend,” P’Kan drawls mockingly before cuffing P’Tan on the head. “Where’s all that wisdom when it comes to you own relationship, huh? Why does Pear still keep you around, I wonder?”
“Of course, it’s because of my giant di-” P’Tan puts on a shit-eating grin before finishing his sentence, “sc collection. My lovely Pear is a music lover, why would she leave me for someone whose disc collection is not as impressive. For example, like yours, my dear Ai’Kan.”
In the ensuing scuffle, which P’Kan most definitely wins, P’Tan ends up with lettuce in his hair, and a giant soy sauce stain on the left side of his shirt. Fortunately, none of the plates and bowls on the table have been broken, or the aunty glaring at them from behind her stall would’ve definitely dragged them all out by their ears.
“If you’re done behaving like a bunch of monkeys,” P’Pun’s voice is tinged with something between exasperated fondness and resigned annoyance. “I think we should-”
“Nah, you see, I was also thinking,” okay, P’Tan is definitely getting murdered tonight. “If they are… you know… Which they definitely are! Who do you think is do-”
Fortunately for everyone present, before he can finish the question, P’Tan chokes on some sort of a bug that has bravely decided to end its life in his mouth and breaks into coughs.
“This makes me want to believe in the divine,” P’Kan curls one side of his mouth into a mocking smirk. “See, the nature itself doesn’t want to hear you talk.”
“Okay then, that’s the end of this conversation. Newbie, don’t bring it up again.”
Ohm nods vigorously, relieved to finally put this entire conversation behind them. It’s a good thing that he’d decided to ask the other boys first. Who knows how much he would have embarrassed himself if he asked P’Saint directly.
It’s no big deal if no one comes to cheer for him. It’s always been like that.
He wants to hurry up and say his goodbyes, so he fishes a fifty-bhat note out of his pocket. Unexpectedly, before he can drop it onto the table and leave, a hand lands onto his shoulder.
“Hey, nong, you didn’t tell us when to come to see your play,” P’Kan’s eyes are curved into crescents, their color a warm brown in the afternoon sun.
P’Pun nods in agreement, his lips quirked up in a small smile.
“It’s in a month and a half… I’ll bring you the invitations once we’ve printed them?” Ohm stutters out, still uncertain. There’s something warm and fragile taking root in his chest.
“Yeah, and don’t just bring three. I’ll bring my beautiful Pear with me; she’d love to see it and then tear whoever’s doing your music arrangement into shreds.”
As he’s walking home, the school bag slung over his shoulder, Ohm smiles to himself. Turns out, joining the Tsunami gang was more than worth it.