Gone at Five


One table left. 

We had no choice but to agree sharing the only table left and so we did. At first we were silent, minding our own business. You busied yourself eating your food while I checked my phone. But then after a while, I felt it. Your discreet glances from time to time. I looked up to see If I was right, that you’re stealing glances. Our eyes locked. You were caught by surprise. You shyly looked away, pretending that nothing happened.


Two buttons undone.

I tried, okay? I tried so hard not to get distracted but my eyes couldn’t stop staring at the exposed skin. That little mole in your neck looks really sexy. I can imagine feeling the skin of your neck under my lips. I suddenly feel like a vampire ready to bite on your neck. Yeah, I know I shouldn’t. I’m sorry but I really can’t help it.


Three times you cleared your throat.

The first time you did, I thought maybe there’s just something stuck on your throat, so I ignored it. I just kept my eyes on my phone. The second time you did, It was a bit louder. I was about to pour water on your glass but you already did when I was just about to move my hand. And the third time you did, It was the loudest. I bet even the people from the tables around us also heard it. And honestly, the way you did it was attention seeking. So I looked up at you again. I saw how a grin threatened to form on your lips but you suppressed it and tried to act nonchalant. I knew it. You were tying to get my attenion.


Four random topics.

You finally initiated a conversation. We had four random topics before we got distracted when we realized how intense our gazes were while listening to each other. The hunger in my eyes reflected in yours. We’re feeling the same — some kind of intense burning feeling inside that makes us want to rip off each other’s clothes. Right here. Right now.

“You know what? You actually don’t look good in that black polo shirt.”

You playfully smiled. “I don’t think so. I believe I look good in everything I wear, miss.”

“I guess you look better without it.” I want you naked. Yes. T’was shameless to say out loud such a naughty thought. I know. But I really can’t help it.

“Then remove it.

“Here?” I playfully smirked.

“Inside my car. Yes?”


Five a.m. 

This is it. Us in the backseat of your car. Your polo shirt thrown at the passenger seat. But my eyes couldn’t help but feast at the sight of your long milky white neck and and the cute little mole in it. But right when I was about to put my hands on you, everything went blank and I woke up at five a.m just because of that one loud nonesense notification on my phone. I should’ve muted it before I sleep. Stupid. It’s always like this, my love. Unfinished beautiful dreams with you in it. I’m getting tired of this. I want to touch you. No, not in my dreams. I want to touch you for real. I want us skin to skin. But I know it’ll never happen. Ever. Because…

                                                          I’m just a girl

                                                                                            who likes a boy

                                                                     who also like boys.


Hinanakit ni Buwan

Gustong-gusto mo tuwing sumasapit ang gabi. Madalas mong inaabangan kung magpapakita ba ang buwan at ang mga bituin. Kaya naman napangiti ako nang makita kang muli habang dumudungaw mula sa iyong bintana. Ang sarap pala sa pakiramdam ng maging isang buwan; ramdam na ramdam ko ito sa tuwing makikita ko ang aking repleksyon sa iyong maningning na mga mata. Ngunit ako naman si tanga, umasang muli na magtatagal ang iyong mga titig sa akin; iyon ay mabilis na sulyap lang pala. Oo nga pala, buwan ako. Buwan lang ako. Hindi nga pala ako yung bituin na inaabangan mo para bulungan ng iyong mga sikreto at hiling. Wala rin naman kasing silbi kung ako’y mas malaki at mas maliwanag kumpara diyan sa mumunting mga bituin, kung hindi rin naman ako ang inaabangan mo para maging saksi ng iyong matatamis na mga ngiting dapat sana’y para sa akin.

Binabawi ko na; hindi pala masarap maging isang buwan. Masakit pala na maging isang tagapanood lang sa kung paano umabot ang iyong ngiti sa iyong mga mata sa tuwing aliw na aliw ka sa pagkislap ng mga bituin.

Buwan ako . Buwan lang ako. At hindi ako kailanman magiging isang bituin na gabi-gabi mong inaabangan sa pagbabakasakaling mahuhulog sa tapat ng inyong hardin. Pasensya na ngunit hindi ko kayang maging isang bituin na maaaring tumupad ng iyong mumunting mga hiling.

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Like Tangent Lines { t w o }

” For the man who told me to do anything that will make me create something beautiful out of a terrible pain from a heartbreak. I don’t exactly remember who you are but this is for you. You are the muse of this book. “

This is the dedication written on Jaz’s first self-published book. There are only few copies of the book so Matt made it sure that he’s among the first set of buyers. But he didn’t show up. He remained outside the coffee shop where Jaz is set to distribute her book to the buyers. His sister claimed the book for him instead. Just like what he usually does, he contented himself in looking at her from afar because he’s not ready to show himself to her yet.

“Kuya, you’re stupid. Why do keep waiting and hiding when you can just go to her, remind her of the things that she’s forgotten, and tell her directly that you’ve been loving her for almost eight years now?”

“I want her to remember me. I want her to remember first that she was the one who asked me to wait and all. I won’t chase for her because I’m waiting. Chasing and waiting are two different things. And I’m on the latter. I want her to realize that first.”

“If I were you, kuya, I’d rather chase than wait. I’d rather chase her now than wait for her all my life.”

He didn’t listen. He just let her sister’s advise pass through his right ear to the left. He’ll keep waiting. Even if waiting means waiting for another book to be written, and another, and another. They agreed to meet again after she has written something that she’ll call a masterpiece. And this is just her first book. It’s not a masterpiece yet. Maybe. Matt’s not really sure. Whenever he attempts to read the book, he’d always get stuck in the dedication page. This is for you. You are the muse of this book. This is for you. You are the muse of this book . He’d be as amused as the first time he read that. He’d just stupidly stare at that one page until he’d realize that once again he wasn’t able to go on to the next page. It’s been five months and a week since that night they met and had an agreement about meeting again. Matt thinks that she has completely forgotten everything that night but reading that dedication never fail to keep alive the little hope he has.

There are times he’d think of ending this waiting thing and just go present himself to Jaz and remind her of that night and tell her that he’s the guy she’s referring to in her dedication just like what his sister have been telling him. But he’d always end up listening to the stupid part of him that thinks that he can wait forever until she finally finds for him. It amuses him that she was able to remember everything he said except him. All except him. And the kiss. And the promise. Little did he know that she actually remembers him. But not completely. She remembers that night, the man, the kiss, and the promise. But the man’s face remains blurry when she tries to remember him. She has the feeling that it’s someone she knows. Maybe it’s Matt, she guesses but she’s not sure and for some reason, she thinks that it’s impossible. Maybe it’s just someone who looks like him. It can’t be him. It can’t be. She wanted to ask him but she’s shy. She can’t accept the fact the she kissed him. She kissed the first guy she ever liked. She liked him before she met Simon. She didn’t tell anyone about it until her feelings died, until she met Simon. But what if it is really him? She actually waited for him, too. Every time she had a meet up with the buyers of the book, she always hoped that he was one of them. All books got distributed but he didn’t show up. No one did. No one presented himself to her as the guy that she has been looking and waiting for.

They are both waiting for the other to do the first move. Both waiting for something so unsure. Both waiting for nothing. Matt’s waiting for himself to finally man up, for her to remember, and for things to fall into place while Jaz is waiting for a confirmation that the guy is Matt. She doesn’t admit it to herself but she’s wishing that it’s really him.

Matt wrote her a new song in hopes that it’ll reach her and make her realize that it’s him and that he’s still waiting and that he’s still clinging to their little promise they made that night. And it did reach her. The song randomly played on her car radio one day. She immediately fell in love with the song the first time she heard it. But things didn’t go as expected. She looked for the singer instead of the song writer. She found her way to this guy named Nico instead of Matt who has been waiting for her for so long.

He feels like he’s being punched, stabbed and shot all the same time whenever she’s with Nico. Nico whom he asked to sing his song. Nico who has been his wingman since highschool.

And maybe, William Faulkner was right when he said:

“Perhaps they were right in putting love into books.

Perhaps it could not live anywhere else.”

He finished reading her book. He was surprised to read a story she made up about them. In the book, they found their way back to each other. In the book, they were both in love. In the book, things were not as ugly as the reality.

In the book, they didn’t need the long-ass waiting.