Chapter 5: Sparks

 

Om eventually returned to the table as if nothing had happened. He looked at Mick closely and asked "Is it better now? It does look like the swelling has gone down."

 

Mick nodded. He didn't trust himself to say anything. Did he dare hope that Om was feeling the spark of something just now? He searched Om's face for any sign that he'd shared Mick's feelings, but the senior was looking intently at his phone.

 

"Hia Moon says your phone is ready now," Om said, standing up. "Let's go."

 

Mick followed Om, and surreptitiously pocketed the latter's damp handkerchief as they left the food court.

 

Mick was overjoyed to find his phone was as good as new once they returned to Moon's stall. He couldn't stop thanking both Moon and Om, especially since Moon gave him a substantial discount on account of being Om's friend. In the end Om dragged him away before he could embarrass the both of them any further.

 

"P'Om, I haven't paid hia Moon yet!" Mick protested, stopping in the middle of the walkway.

 

"I've already taken care of it," Om said carelessly. "Are you coming along or not?"

 

"I can't let you do that!" Mick said stubbornly. "Let me pay you back."

 

"I've already forgotten how much it was," Om said, obviously lying. "Do you want to check out Siam Square since we're here? Or maybe Kinokuniya. There's some books I want to see."

 

"P'Om you're changing the subject!" Mick pouted, and almost stamped his foot before remembering he wasn't a child anymore.

 

"Yes I am. Now keep up or I'll leave you behind," Om said, walking towards the exits. Mick stared at Om's retreating back before shaking his head and hurrying after him.

 

***

 

"What kind of music do you like, Mick?" Om asked him all of a sudden. They were at a music store in Siam Discovery Center, looking through CDs, although Mick wondered just who bought physical CDs anymore nowadays.

 

"Um...I like...Deftones?" Mick heard himself blurt the words before his brain could stop his mouth. Good job, Mick.

 

Om turned to look at Mick, a skeptical expression on his face. "Really. You like alt metal? Name one song of theirs."

 

"7 Words," Mick said without hesitation, since that was the song he'd looked up the other day while stalking Om's Facebook. It was the one he couldn't finish listening, with all the bad words in it.

 

"Wow. Okay, I'm impressed," Om said, nodding. "You're full of surprises, little mouse."

 

Om grinned. A little white lie couldn't hurt if it served to bring them closer, could it?

 

"What about you, p'?"

 

"Anything that's got a good tune," he shrugged. "I like rock, metal, ska, as long as it's got a badass riff, I'm there."

 

Oookay. Mick stared wistfully at the new Taylor Swift album. I guess I won't be picking that up in front of Om anytime soon, he thought to himself.

 

"Have you thought of joining our Live Show?" He asked. "The finals are next month."

 

"Yeah, but don't you need a band for that?" The Live Show was one of the highlights of the music club events, when bands comprising of students from the whole school would compete against each other. It never failed to turn out to be a mini rock concert with very high-caliber acts performing and students dancing and clapping in the stands. It was where he'd first seen Om, along with Noh and Film last year.

 

"Mum and the rest have formed one, but one of their guys dropped out...they're playing some ska songs, I think. I can ask them if they'd take you, since they could do with a horn as well."

 

"Really, p'Om? You'd do that for me?" Mick's eyes were as round as saucers now. "Is that even allowed?"

 

"Yeah they can make one change to their band, it's allowed. I'm one of the judges, by the way. But don't expect any special favors," he warned.

 

Mick was just stunned. Being in the marching band was different, he'd never expected to actually go on stage and perform. He liked the idea, of course, but he didn't feel like he was ready. His palms began to sweat at the thought of so many people watching him, judging him.

 

"P'Om, I'm really flattered, but...," he began to say, twisting his hands into his t-shirt nervously.

 

"Hey," Om came around the music aisle and stood in front of him. Mick looked up at the senior's face, which was smiling at him with real warmth. "I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't think you're good enough for this. You've really come a long way, you know."

 

"Th-thanks, p'Om. It's just that...," Mick was afraid he'd screw up let everyone down, especially the person in front of him, who would be on the judge's table, no less, but how to put it in words that wouldn’t make him sound like a loser who refused to even try?

 

Om threw a loose arm around the smaller boy's shoulders. "Just think about it first, alright? I can't coach you on the songs you guys will be playing, but I can still teach you the horn on other band songs in similar keys, how about that?" 

 

Mick was only half listening to Om, as he was too busy enjoying the warmth of Om's arm around him, even if it was just a brief second. He nodded, agreeing to whatever Om was saying. At this point even if Om had asked him to be his slave forever, he would have just nodded eagerly.

 

"Hey, let's go over to Siam Square, there's bound to be something happening today since its a Saturday," Om said suddenly, letting go of Mick. 

 

"What happens in Siam Square on weekends?" Mick asked curiously. "I've never been there."

 

Om stared at him incredulously. "No ? You've never been to the most happening place in Bangkok before?" 

 

Mick shrugged. No one had ever taken him, that's all. He'd heard about it, of course, any teenager in Bangkok would have, but it wasn't as if he was dying to go.

 

"Okay, this is your initiation, then. Let's go!" Om said determinedly.

 

***

 

They spent the entire afternoon exploring Siam Square. There was a free mini-concert going on, so they stopped and watched that for a while. Mick was too short to see much so Om grabbed him by his arm and obnoxiously pushed forward through the crowd until he got a better view. Mick felt embarrassed and kept apologizing to the people around them, while Om acted as if nothing happened. Om positioned Mick in front of him so he could see the performance clearly. The younger boy could feel Om’s arms draped casually across his shoulders, and he smiled to himself, enjoying the show.

 

Mick thought the band was quite good, but Om was pretty critical about the way they played and the keys they chose for a live performance, though he admitted the lead singer was talented.

 

"P'Om, you really know your music stuff! Are all the other seniors in the club like you too?"

 

"Them? They're all idiots," he dismissed with a snort and a smile, and Mick knew he wasn't being really serious. "My dad is in an orchestra and teaches music at university, so I grew up around music. I can pretty much play anything, but I like the guitar the best."

 

"Wow. You're so talented, 'p! You should be in a band, up there with them!" Mick said excitedly.

 

"Hah! I wish, too bad I'm too lazy, and I at writing songs anyway. There's more to being in a band than knowing how to play, Mick. How about you? What does your dad do?"

 

"He's…well, I don’t really know, I don't see him much," Mick admitted. "It's just me and my mom and older sis. We're a boring family, unlike yours."

 

Om just nodded in sympathy. "Oh, an older sis? Is she pretty? I bet she's pretty. Is she single?"

 

"P'Om!!" Mick protested. He most certainly didn't want to talk about his sister right now. She was being a hermit nowadays anyway, concentrating on her exams. He had no idea if she was single or not. Their mom was even stricter with her than she was with him, he felt.

 

Oh no, mom! Mick stopped in his tracks, and pulled out his phone. He groaned as he realized he'd switched it off when he'd had the screen repaired and had forgotten to turn it back on again. He looked at the time, and groaned again. It was already 4pm. His mom was going to kill him. 

 

"What's wrong?" Om asked, but Mick was already calling his mom. She'd left thirteen messages. She was definitely going to kill him, and she was going to be creative about it.

 

"MICK! WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN!"

 

Mick winced at her tone. "I'm sorry mom, I lost track of time."

 

"I went to your school looking for you when you didn't answer your phone! I thought something had happened to you!" She sounded more relieved than angry, but Mick was sure that was coming. "Where are you? Why is it so noisy?"

 

"I'm really sorry, mom, I'm fine. I'm, uh, with some friends right now at Siam," Mick said, looking at Om, who was still hovering around him, looking concerned.

 

"What?! I've been out of my mind with worry and you've been out having fun! Why couldn't you have just called?!"

 

"I told you, I lost track of time. I did say I was gonna be late," Mick said with a hint of exasperation.

 

"Don't you dare take that tone with me. Now you come home right this instant. I'm through talking to you," his mom said before hanging up.

 

Mick looked at Om dejectedly. "That was my mom. I think I have to go now."

 

"Didn't you tell your mom you were out with me?" He asked. Mick shook his head, not wanting to admit that he'd lied to his own mother.

 

"Well it's in the nature of mothers to worry. Come on, we'll share a taxi back."

 

"It's ok, p'Om, I can make my own way home from here. You should - you should enjoy your weekend."

 

"Here? I'm here so often I'm over it," Om shrugged. "Let's get you home before your mom decides to come after me with a cleaver as well."

 

***

 

They arrived at Mick's apartment half an hour later. Mick was too nervous to say anything much during the ride, and Om's attempts to soothe him didn't work very well either.

 

"Thanks for the day, p'Om," Mick said, torn between rushing home right away and giving Om a proper farewell. "I-I haven't enjoyed myself this much in a very long time."

 

To his surprise, Om didn't reply, but instead paid the taxi fare and got out himself. 

 

"What are you doing, p'Om?" Mick said, scrambling out of the taxi.

 

"Saving your , what does it look like? Which floor are you on?" Om asked.

 

"You don't have to do that! Please get back in the taxi, I'll be fine, really!" Mick pleaded. He'd never brought anyone home before. What would his mom think if he just showed up with an older boy? 

 

As usual, it was impossible to get in Om's way when he set his mind on something, so Mick had no choice but to lead Om to his home, wishing that the earth would swallow him up for at least the next hour or so.

 

His mom yanked the door open as soon as he touched his key to the lock.

 

"You are in so much trouble young- oh," she started saying, then caught sight of Om smiling at her behind Mick's cowering form.

 

"Good evening khun Auntie. I'm so sorry to bother you so late."

 

"Good-good evening. Mick? Who's this?"

 

"This is p'Om from the music club, mom."

 

"Yes, khun Auntie," he flashed her a winning smile. Suddenly, Mick was jealous of his mom. He'd never smiled at Mick like that before. "I'm here to bring Mick back safely from our club outing."

 

"Club outing?" His mom asked, looking at Mick.

 

"Yeah, the music club decided to have an outing to a concert at Siam Square. Didn't Mick pass you the release forms to sign last month? Did you forget, Mick?" Om looked pointedly at the boy.

 

"I-I-I guess I forgot," was all Mick could say, looking between his mom and Om.

 

"Well! Why didn't you say so in the first place, Mick," his mom said. "He can be so forgetful sometimes you know," she said to Om. "Thanks for bringing him home."

 

"Oh, it's no problem. Mick’s a good kid. You have a wonderful home, khun Auntie."

 

"Oh please. Do come in, and drop the formal speech. Any friends of Mick's are always welcome. He never brings anyone back," his mom was suddenly all smiles. Mick was relieved his mom no longer seemed angry, though he wished they'd stop talking as if he wasn't there. "I sometimes wonder if he's a normal boy,” she added with a sigh as the boys took off their shoes.

 

"Ma!" Mick yelled, his face burning. "I'mbringingp'Omtomyroomwehavelotstodiscussabouttheclubdontdisturbus," he said quickly, pulling a surprised Om into his small bedroom before his mom could kill him with more embarrassing talk.

 

He closed his door with a sigh, and leaned against it. Now that he had Om in his room, Mick had no idea what to do with him. He was thankful that he was a naturally tidy person, and that the bed was made up. He watched as Om looked around at his surroundings with interest, and picked up the only music instrument in the room, a ukulele, and sat on Mick’s single bed.

 

"Hey, this is neat. I've not played this in years," Om said, strumming at it. He frowned, and tuned it slightly. Mick was impressed. Om had perfect pitch! Mick always had to use a video for that.

 

"So what do you play on this?" He asked. Mick had picked up the uke during the craze a few years back, and he'd actually gotten quite good at it, mostly from watching YouTube. He sat next to Om on the bed, and thought for a while.

 

"Um, Jason Mraz? I'm Yours?" Om arched an eyebrow, but he immediately started strumming the chords, and sang softly.

 

Well, you done done me and you bet I felt it

I tried to be chill but you're so hot that I melted

 

He looked alongside at Mick, and hesitantly but with growing confidence, the younger boy added his voice along with Om's. Together, their voices soared with the song, and then Om started playing with the beat, changing it to reggae and Mick sang along in the same vein, and then changed it once more to me rock, before Mick collapsed in giggles. This was amazing! He thought. He'd never felt this kind of connection to anyone before.

 

Om ended the song with a strum and a smile, and looked at Mick. "You've got a pretty good voice, you know. And you could harmonize with me. We should jam sometime." 

 

Mick just blushed, not knowing what to say. He was aware how close their bodies were. And how alone they were. And the warm scent of Om's deodorant, despite being out all day since morning.

 

"You're not really into Deftones are you?" Om asked softly. Mick bit his lip, and shook his head, staring a the floor in shame. Om just smiled. "You don't ever have to lie to impress me, you know. Or anyone else for that matter. It's alright to like whatever kind of music you want. As long as it's not Bieber, that is. Then you're dead to me," he added.

 

Mick looked at Om, hesitating. “Um…"

 

Om's eyes widened. "Oh , really? You're a ing Belieber?!"

 

Mick laughed at the look on Om's face. "No, I'm not! Well, maybe one or two songs..."

 

Om reached out and poked Mick in the side, causing the younger boy to yelp and fall backwards onto the bed. "I really thought I'd have to apologize to a Belieber for the first time in my life," he said, continuing to tickle Mick.

 

Mick was helpless before the relentless assault. He squirmed this way and that, avoiding Om's fingers without success.

 

"I'm sorry!" He gasped. "Your face was just too funny!"

 

"I'm going to make you pee in your pants," Om growled. 

 

"Noooo," Mick cried. "Mercy! I give up!"

 

Finally, after what seemed ages, with Mick almost indeed peeing, Om stopped. They were both lying fully on his small bed now, Om propped up his head on his elbow, looking at Mick as the latter panted for air. He reached out and absently brushed aside a stray lock of Mick's hair that had fallen across his face. Mick lay very still, shallowing his breathing, and looked back at Om with wide, trusting eyes.

 

Is he going to kiss me? Mick wondered. He felt like he was in a dream and he was lost in Om's hypnotic gaze. All he could hear was his heart thudding loudly in his chest. Mick felt his throat going dry, and he parted his lips to them nervously. Om lowered his face toward his...

 

A sharp knock at the door brought sharp reality back to the both of them. Quick as a flash, Om was on his feet, while Mick just sat up, dazed.

 

"Mick? Did you offer your friend any drinks? Is he staying for dinner?" He heard his mom ask.

 

Mick felt a flash of anger toward his mom that he'd never before felt in his life.

 

Om opened the door. "No need, Mother, I was just about to leave anyway," he said.

 

"Oh? So soon? Come by anytime!" She said, slightly taken aback.

 

Mick followed Om to the door while the latter hurriedly put on his shoes. "So...I'll see you Monday?" Mick asked tentatively, unsure of how to approach the situation.

 

Om looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face, before nodding. "We still have to get you ready for the Live Show. If you still want in, that is."

 

"I do," Mick said, surprised at his own answer. "I really do."

 

Om gave him a wave, "Ok see you later."

 

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Mick with an unexplainable feeling of emptiness inside himself.