Confusion.

April 19, 2007 19:08

I was there, alone at the corner of our high school. He came and told me we needed to talk, and I frowned, for I was sure as hell that ‘we’ don’t have anything to talk about. But I gave in. Just like I always do. I gave in.

He was, after all, at one point in time, one of the closest guys to me.

“I wanted to ask you this question for such a long time already,” he began. I couldn’t look at him, though—I was distracting myself with the manang who was selling French fries, squid balls and fish balls and kikiam, cheese sticks, and gulaman.

He cleared his throat as if to catch my attention. I didn’t look at him still, but I was listening—and he knew that. “Can I court you?” he asked in a soft voice.

Can I court you—it was different from ‘I will court you’ that he used on his ex-girlfriend who happens to be one of my closest friends. I actually was the bridge for them, and was one of the few people who pushed for their ‘love team.’

I stayed silent.

He wasn’t keen on waiting—he never was. He likes to do his own thing, and not wait. One thing I have always liked about him was that he values his time, but sometimes it irritates me as well.

“Hey,” he said, nudging me a bit. I turned to him and then said, “No.”

You should have seen the look on his face. It was as if the earth had fallen on him. Or he was told that his allowance had been cut off and he’s grounded for five whole years. Or he was told that he wouldn’t graduate along with our batch.

And you know that my weakness is that I don’t want people getting hurt because of me, so I relented yet again.

“Okay. You may court me. But… I wouldn’t want people to know. Your ex is one of my dear pals, and I don’t want you to come in between us. I’m just letting you court me because you gave me that frigging look that you know would work on me.”

The sympathetic look was replaced with a wide smile. “Yes! Thank you,” he said, and he was about to hug me when I stepped away.

“Courtship mode, mister,” I reminded him. “We’re not pals here.”

He laughed, and then ran off.

To where exactly, I didn’t know.

Until you came.

–

I was there at the stairs in front of the lobby, watching some of the grade school kids play patintero and habulan, and some of the sophomores and juniors at the basketball court strutting their own stuff. Surprisingly, I wasn’t with anyone—and you knew that, didn’t you?

You came and talked to me.

I was surprised you actually had gathered the courage to talk to me—we are close, yes, but it was our big secret. You are a campus heartthrob after all, a perfect gentleman, the man in every girl’s dream. I have always liked you and you have always known that, but I was a geek and heartthrobs don’t fall for geeks.

I never stopped liking you since I first laid my eyes on you, and you knew that, and but you don’t know one thing: I probably never will stop.

“Hey.”

I need not turn to see who it was—I know your voice, know your smell, and my body seems to know your presence.

“Hey,” I said, still not looking at you.

You tugged at my uniform, and I faced you. You smiled—but it wasn’t the smile that I have always loved. It wasn’t the smile that reached your eyes.

“We’re in public,” I said, and you grinned this time. “I don’t really care. Screw them,” you said, and I smiled.

You were just confident because we only have a few weeks to spare in this crappy school. A few weeks’ worth of gossip before graduation won’t hurt, huh?

I stayed silent.

“I heard that he’s courting you,” I heard you say.

“Boy, news travels THAT fast, huh?” I replied instead. “You had just confirmed what I asked,” you said.

All right. You know me that well.

“What did he tell you guys?” I asked after a while. I know the news would reach you somehow. You and he are in the same barkada after all. Besides, nothing goes on within our batch without your barkada knowing about it—and sometimes with your barkada’s consent.

“He said that he’s going to court you. He asked you, but then you stayed quiet. He said he’d still continue anyway,” you explained, and I smirked.

“That wasn’t what really happened, huh?” you said, and I nodded. No point lying. I never could lie to you.

“I refused at first, but then gave in.”

“Typical you.”

I merely nodded at your snide remark, and then went back to watching the other students.

You made me face you again. You saw the irritation on my face, for you knew I don’t get the whole point why you’re going all kuya mode on me. Or even jealous boyfriend mode on me.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I felt chills run up my spine when you said that.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, so you better take care,” you repeated. I strained my ears, processed what you said, but still didn’t speak.

No questions asked.

You stood up and left.

Just what you meant by that, I never knew.

I never knew for one because I woke up from the dream already.

It was only a dream, and yet it made something in me stir.

The sleeping emotions inside me woke up, and I only had a lousy dream to blame.

I wish I could see you again.

I wish I could bring back the old times—when you tell your stories and I listen, and when I tell you my problems and you listen.

I wish you’d simply just get here and be by my side, get to know the new me and I’d get to know the new you. How long was it, huh?

Three, maybe, four years?

I never stopped liking you.

And I probably never will.