Pan stared into the room, leant against the door frame. It was one of those vacant stares where you start to block out everything around you and aren’t focussed on anything in particular.

It’d been a long day at the end of a long week but the tiredness he felt never matched the amount of sleep he was actually getting. He was glad today was done with though. Maybe he could start sleeping again.

Downstairs, the door bell rang, bringing him out of his daze. He checked his watch. It was quarter to ten. The doorbell rang again and he muttered under his breath, bemoaning Aunt Belle for not getting it quicker.

He trudged down the wooden staircase, his white bed socks not providing much friction underfoot. He opened the door and couldn’t help but show his disappointment at who was there.

“What are you doing here?”

“Look, I’ve just come to talk,” Dylan softly answered, looking up at Pan from the steps leading to the house.

“I don’t really want to see you right now, if I’m honest.”

“And I totally understand, I-”

“And yet you’re still here,” Pan interrupted.

“Pan, I just want to talk with you. Just for an hour perhaps. So I can explain and hear your feelings.”

“My feelings? You have a nerve wanting to know about my feelings. You know what today was, right? How do you expect me to be feeling?”

“And that’s why I’m here, because of today. I know how important it was.”

“So you came at this time of night, knowing how important today was? The day’s over bud. I’m in my pyjamas ready for bed. I’m not going out.” Pan started to shut the door, but Dylan jumped up and put his hand on it, stopping it from shutting.

“Please, Pan. Throw some jeans and a sweater on, and let’s go somewhere to talk. We’ll go to a diner or something? Please?” Dylan pleaded.

Pan didn’t look at him, couldn’t look at him, instead looking and zoning in on the door frame just right of Dylan. He was so desperate to ignore him, shut the door in his face and go to bed.

But in reality, there was no way he was going to sleep yet. Might as well get a sundae out of it.

Pan puffed the air out of his mouth and turned to Dylan. “Let me go and get some clothes on. Go and sit in the car.” And with that, he shut the door on Dylan and ran to his room.

***

The drive to the diner was a silent one. Pan made it very clear with his body language that he didn’t want to talk now, and Dylan had quickly picked up on it, leaving the radio fill the void.

Pan watched out of the window at all of the lights going by whilst the radio show host recapped the top news, none of which he cared about right now. Some celebrity tweeted something they shouldn’t have, plants have been grown on Antarctica, a CEO of an energy company was found dead and a bag snatcher on Hollywood Boulevard was stopped by a masked vigilante, with both parties being arrested. Same old, same old.

Once they got to the diner, they found a booth and ordered something to eat. The place wasn’t busy and was brightly lit with harsh lighting. A different radio station played from behind the counter old eighties music.

It took a while for conversation to get going while they waited for their food, but Pan wasn’t going to be the one to start talking.

He shifted in his seat, adjusting his legs when he knocked Dylan’s lightly. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No worries,” Dylan answered, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Are you… are you ok for me to speak?”

“Mhm,” Pan mumbled in confirmation.

“I want to apologise. From the bottom of my heart. I know I told you I would help you out after what happened in Santa Monica, but I let you down. I tried to be there for you, but I also had to be there Kimona. She needed someone too and I…” he leaned forward in the booth, cracking his knuckles nervously. “I thought I could do both. I thought she needed me more at the time. She was going through something.”

Pan shook his head not believing what he was hearing. He stared down the row of chairs leading to the diner counter.

“Sorry, I know that sucks to hear. And now I know after what happened, that was not to be the case, but I didn’t know that at the time.”

Pan shifted his gaze at Dylan’s printed jacket, rather than his face. He shrugged in a way to acknowledge that perhaps Dylan wasn’t to know.

“No, I know you wouldn’t have known, but it’s more because you weren’t there. And I feel like we could’ve done more if you were there. I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong. I feel let down. But Brad, you know he was great. He came as soon as he could, but it was all over by the time he had arrived. So maybe it would’ve been the same if you had picked up my call. Maybe it still would've been too late."

The pair fell silent again, broken only to thank the server for bringing their orders. Pan went for an ice cream sundae with warm chocolate fudge sauce and Dylan a slice of apple pie and ice cream.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Part way through their food, Dylan picked the conversation up again. “How did it go today? I wanted to be there, but I didn’t want to upset you more,” he explained, before taking another mouthful.

“S’alright. We got your flowers, thanks.”

“No worries,” Dylan said softly. “So I know this seems like a stupid question, but how are the boys holding up?”

“They’re still struggling with what happened that day, and also just processing their grief. They all went through it.”

Dylan sympathetically looked at him, giving him the time to talk it out.

“Chai Son is struggling the most. He feels like he should’ve been able to save Narong. Aat is getting on but he hardly speaks anymore. Tanawat used to share a room with him but he now bunks in with us different nights, he’s not really settling.”

“And there’s no textbook to help you deal with it either. How are you holding up though?”

Pan let a stray tear trickle down his face, contemplating his answer. “You know,” he laughed awkwardly, getting embarrassed. “Trying to keep it together. To be strong for everyone. Trying to make up for not being able to do anything.”

“You can’t blame yourself bud.”

“Realistically, I know. But I just can’t stop those thoughts.” Pan sighed. "You know I was out running when the texts came through in our WhatsApp group. I was miles from their school. I even knew that something was going to happen.”

“Like that time when you came to my hotel room here in LA?”

“Yeah. My intuition kicked in, before they all left for school. I just had no idea what it was, nor could I work out which of them it related to. It didn’t occur to me that was because it was all of them in danger that day. And still… Still I went out on a run. Ages away and too early in the day to fly and risk blowing our new covers again, damn it.” Pan screwed his face up as the tears came flowing.

“It’s fine. Take your time Pan. You don’t even have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Thing is,” Pan paused. “I’ve not even actually spoken about it at all. To anyone. It feels good, sorta.”

Dylan smiled reassuringly, acknowledging to Pan that he was there for him.

“It was Sud’s first message that came through. It still haunts me and will do for all of time.”

“What did it say?”

“‘Someone’s shooting in the corridors.’ My heart literally just dropped. Then because they were all there, they were all hearing it. Aat was begging for help, Sud was telling us all that he loved us, and actually came out of the closet to us, thinking he was going to die having not done so. They’d all started reassuring each other that they were hiding and following the drills they’d all learnt. All except Narong.”

“And that’s when you called me?”

“And then I called Brad. I don’t know why really. I knew he’d been in New York, but I- I just… I don’t know.” Pan sunk into the booth, unable to find the words. “He came though and he spoke with the police after.”

“And it was all over by the time he arrived.”

“Yeah. The kid who did it turned the gun on himself after when the police started entering.”

“Where did they find Narong?”

Pan put his head in his hands and began sobbing.

“Sorry man, we can stop talking about it. Forget I asked.”

Pan pulled his sweater sleeve over his hand and used it to wipe his eye and then returned to what was left of his sundae.

“Can I get you young men something else?” the diner server asked, appearing at the end of the table.

“No thank you, I think we’re good,” Dylan answered on Pan’s behalf.

“You ok honey?” she asked, noticing the state Pan was in. She smiled sympathetically, unaware at the grief he was going through. To her, he looked like a normal crying twelve year old boy, and she didn’t get many of them in the diner at this time of night.

“I’m ok thanks. Just having a hard time,” he sniffed.

“Well you’re in safe hands with Dylan here,” she warmly said before going about her work.

Pan jokingly rolled his eyes at Dylan while he stuck his tongue out. “If only she knew the half of it,” mocked Pan, allowing himself to smile for the first time in a week. Taking a deep breath, Pan fixed his fringe. “They found his body in the corridor downstairs. He was out of class, his cell was in his bag back in the classroom. He was on the way to see the nurse. He was one of the first to be shot.” Pan stopped, trying to keep the tears from coming again. “He didn’t stand a chance, Dyl.”

Dylan got up and went round to his side of the booth and pulled him in with an arm around his shoulder. “I’ll be better, Pan.”

“It’s fine bud. Nothing’s going to bring Narong back and being pissed at you isn’t going to make me feel any better in the long term.”

“Well... I appreciate that.”

“Shall we pay up and head off? I’m knackered and feel like this could be the night I get some sleep.”

“Sure thing. I've got this, little guy. Let’s go.”

“Little guy? It’s like you want me to be pissed off with you,” joked Pan.