"magkahawak ang ating kamay at walang kamalay malay…"
This Eraserhead song playing in your speaker downstairs is your favorite and just like another song says it's like
"A melody in your head stuck in replay.”
Perfect isn't it? How the song describes how you end up feeling this way before, totally caught off guard by your reality. You are in your room alone with a vodka cruiser in hand in a desperate attempt to relieve the pain of being in love.
You had friendship that felt like love or at least you had it in your head that way. You decided to wear romance-tinted glasses around him. You were so sure that it was enough - you have him and he was there for you.
Every time he held your hands you give him a secure grip probably because you thought that it might reach his heart and it beats differently towards you.
You just have to settle being the one closest to him; you are the best friend but never the lover.
Making him fall in love with his best friend is just one monumental hurdle. Have him be romantically tied up with someone he calls his "little brother" needs a deal with a devil.
Gay that is what you are supposed to be, based on the classification of society's gender preferences. That word for you is a judgment not a description. That just doesn't describe how different your case is. You are not gay because you don't fancy guys and never turned on by them. It’s just that you happen to feel differently towards one particular guy, which means you are not entirely a Homosexual.
The usual case of falling in love with a best friend just got more complicated. Love got you by surprise.
"Hey, kuya still awake?" you sent him the message, drunk texting. After 3 minutes your cell phone beeped and it didn't disappoint you.
"Yes? I'm working on my thesis," good, you thought.
"I have something to say" you nervously sent this one.
"Why? Anything wrong, bunso? By the way I asked her out Saturday night. Want to come? I just need to unwind after this stressful semester. I want to get laid! LOL"
Who exactly is he talking about? You assume; a new girl, second one for this month. He will end up just ditching her after 3 dates. Just like what he has been doing for the past year.
You recall his rule: If someone will fall, make sure it's hard and make sure it's not you.
The selfish mantra he formulated after an ugly break up from a 2 year relationship with a bitch. You believe it is justified for him to show this kind of hostile prudence after witnessing firsthand what he has been through before and after that consuming relationship.
“I will have to pass this time, kuya ko," that possessive endearment was not appropriate, you thought. But he will just let it pass, ignorant of the malice you intended. Just like the hundreds of “take-care-kuya's” you told him that you purposely made it sound ambiguously sweet hoping that he will have a hint of what you really mean when you say every syllable of the statement.
“Okay then, but what were you saying?" you take a deep breath.
Instead of typing what you really feel which will only take you three words, eight letter and three spaces.
You sent.
"Kuya, I like somebody. I know it's wrong but I like somebody. I know nothing is going to happen even if I confess but I'm in love. God I don't know what to do"
Again you are good with making your words ambiguous enough to conceal what you want to say but clear enough to let him know that these are words that he needs to know.
"Who is it? Aww ;( the bunso is in love. Tell me!" Just what expect you for him to eagerly ask.
He showed you much care, maybe a little too much. You blame him for being that way. You may never felt this way if he didn’t always share his lunch with you. Fix your hair after messing it up when he teases you. Offer his jacket when it gets too cold or his hanky when you sweat. Ask you to sleep over to teach him his math assignments just to end up watching sci-fi movies. Taking the blame when you get scolded by your mom and say “Sorry tita, blame me!” with a charming smile when you get home late.
But the one that’s got you weak was when he pushed you away from falling debris just weeks ago. He dislocated his right shoulder but still managed to smile at you and say “You have got to learn to be more careful, I only have two shoulders to break.”
He was too sweet as your big brother that you had yourself lean dependently on him to make you happy. Until you lean too much, that you lost your balance and fell for him. But you know how hard it was to ignore what you felt, how hard not to fully enjoy the hugs and touches because you are afraid that you might get used to it and just when you do, it disappears .Just like a how fish will feel after daring to learn how to breathe air, then air will go thin and disappear.
Then your phone beeped again.
“Will you just tell me who?” an insisting message from him.
You wish you could just tell him straight to his face that it is him that you love, and then probably with some divine intervention, he will confess that he loves you too, not as brother, not the physical attraction of males, but the pure form of love existing in untainted innocence.
No malice, just true love. That is what you all hope for.
You take the deepest breath you ever have ever made. You close your eyes.
You didn’t have confidence but you have courage.
Though your hands are shaking you put down your vodka on the table and grabbed your phone, pressed one, and it showed your Kuya’s picture on speed dial.
The longest ring and the loudest heartbeat you have ever heard, the most agonizing 30 seconds of your early life.
“Hello? . . . “He answered. You froze; you don’t know what to say? All you hear is the Huling El bimbo in your heard or over the phone you can’t tell.
“Why are you calling? You took too long to reply,” his voice was soft, worried and anxious
“Kuya . . .” you nervously said with a husky voice, like the alphabet is stuck in your throat
“Are you in your room?” he interrupts “I’m here downstairs,” shouting ”Please, tell me something I want to hear”
You stumbled, your heart beats so loud and it just can't make your brain speak.
Why is he here? Yes, you are prepared to tell it over the phone but you can barely manage. You can’t do it straight to his face.
What do you do now? Lock the door? Rush downstairs? Wait for him in your room? What?
Before you could even think, your eyes stroked at the doorknob, twisting. You are sitting on the side of your bed, numb all over. The door opened. You saw his face, and your eyes met. You can't explain how it feels but there is nothing like it.
You just had your fingers crossed. This is a night of come-what-may.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Instead of doing your thesis, you are on your bed and clicking the remote control so many times that you’ve passed all available channels in your cable TV. Your injured shoulder is your excuse to get rid of your mom from shouting at your ears about your thesis. Today just seem so heavy for you. Nothing catches your interest.
You are now watching some lions in hunt on National Geographic then changed the channel to the next one
"I've known you for so long you were a friend of mine but is this all we’d ever be” The song is playing on MYX. You stare, not on the video but on the lyrics. This somehow struck a familiar part of you.
Your cell phone beeped.
"Hey, kuya still awake?" a message from someone you call your little brother.
He has not got in touch with you after saving him from falling debris in a construction site near your university. You know he feels guilty about it, being the reason you had your shoulder hurt. His eyes were watery when he saw the debris hit you. That’s why you pretended that it didn’t hurt and still forced yourself to smile.
It hurts you to see him feel bad. He is so fragile for you, even though he poses a hard shell so that you won’t treat him like a defenseless weasel. You can see through him. This thought gave you a smirk in your face, you find him adorable that way and you love taking care of him.
You replied with "Yes? I'm working on my thesis.”
You know you have to text him this lie. You can't afford to make him to be mad at you. He will go over your place and force you to do it or he won’t talk to you for weeks, the latter is not an option for you, for some reason you want him by your side all the time.
You know that you are attracted to guys, no doubt, but you don't care about that part of you. You are not Gay because you don’t manifest to be one. Even “closet-gay” is not an acceptable description of your identity. Closet gays for you are those who didn’t have a choice but not to spread the pink confetti and glitters in them to conform and hide from judgment of those who are conservative. Your case is somehow different; you are who you pose to be because it is the choice you took to live your life. You are not suppressed to hide it. You are not afraid to be gay but it is just not your entirety.
That is not hypocrisy; you accept who you are but shall live with a more desirable part of you.
Yet ignoring a part of you had a backlash. Your girlfriend for two years somehow was suspicious enough to fuss over the closeness that you share with a particular person- a guy, your best friend.
In your desire to be honest with her and maintain the relationship, you told her the truth about you.
You told her that you are sometimes attracted to guys. Men sometimes make your heartbeat fast the same way some hot girls make you feel. In your defense you told her that your love for her is the stronger part and she doesn’t have to worry about it. Though your honesty was in good intention, she still felt uncomfortable and broke up with you, ending everything with an insulting farewell
“I can’t believe I kissed a faggot”.
You were in pieces and no one fixed you but your best friend. He came over to your house during the first week of your heart break, sneaking in cans of beer one night. He, who always gets drunk after a bottle didn’t mind keeping you company until the last drop of alcohol. He was the best thing you had at those difficult moments. That night was the perfect night of healing. You see the moonlight through your window struck his blushing face.
He was pretty, regardless if he was your best friend or if he was a guy. All you see is a person as pretty as the night with a broken moon. You were tempted to kiss him and just to take the chance while he was defenselessly drunk.
Then he said, with eyes beginning to be droopy.
“Never hurt yourself again kuya, you look helpless after fearlessly falling in love.” Instead of doing what you had in mind, you just gave him hug and it said everything you wanted to say.
You love him, you are not attracted, it is love in full certainty.
"I have something to say” He replied.
Your heartbeat rushed to your senses, waking every nerve in you, telling you that this is familiar and may be something you have been anticipating. Could it be that he is going to tell you that he is in love with you? The idea is silly but you can’t help it.
He may be from a very conservative family. His family who thinks you are a bad influence but never verbalized it because you are the only friend their son has. You can’t help but imagine if this is really going to be his confession.
It feels like those sweetly uttered “Take-care-kuya’s” you thought were nothing but friendly gestures were said as just like how you interpret it – love hidden in words of friendship.
Assumption is just something you can’t have. It may feel like you are right but you may not be.
"Why? Anything wrong? By the way I asked her out Saturday night. Want to come? I just need to unwind after this stressful semester. I want to get laid! LOL"
He will just decline this offer, yet you sent it imagining his annoyed face every time you tell him about the girls you date. You end just ditching those girls because he always evaluates them with disapproving remarks like “She is hot but don’t you think she is pretty expensive to date?”, “too flirty” or “She doesn’t look smart.”
You don’t get too close with girls because when you do, he always keeps a distance from you.
“I will have pass this time, kuya ko” with possessive hint on this decline it was like he was saying yes with a no to you. You smirked again.
“Okay then, but what were you saying?" You plainly replied.
"Kuya, I like somebody. I know it's wrong but I like somebody. I know nothing is going to happen even if I confess but I'm in love. God I don't know what to do” you stared at this message.
You are quite surprised that it isn’t a confession or at least not for you, even if your imagination was logically absurd you are still surprised to read this. You wonder who it could be. How could you not know that he likes someone? You should be the only person to know without him saying anything.
"Who is it? Aww :( the bunso is in love. Tell me!"
Though you are anxious about it, you chose to be your usual self. Probably the next message will be unbearable. You wait for his reply but after a few minutes your patience went thin. You cannot just sit and wait for your heart to be broken.
“Will you just tell me who?”
You can’t stand waiting for his reply. The thought that he will just make you guess all night frustrates you.
You continue to wait for his reply, but to no avail.
What should you do now? Call him? Are you supposed to wait? Should you just live with it? Or should you take your chances
You grab your jacket .You Stand in front of the mirror and stare at your face.
Just like a dying man’s last words.
“You are going to risk it, ready to accept, ready to break, and ready to be happy”
You went out for a two-block run. A life-chase for your happiness.
Gasping for air, you are in the doorstep of his house. You hear the sound of eraser head’s Huling el bimbo.
The door wasn’t locked, and no one was in the living room but computer lit on the side programmed to play the song over and over.
Your phone rang, and it was the person you came for.
It took 30 seconds before you answered it, you are having cold sweat.
Then you answered it with the raspiness in your voice.
“Hello? . . .You heard his silence on the other end
“Why are you calling? You took too long to reply” the words kept spilling
“Kuya. . .” He spoke in a weak tone and you unconsciously interrupted
“Are you in your room, I’m here downstairs”
“Please, tell me something I want to hear.” You were almost shouting with a trace of pleading.
You walk headed to his room and you know that every step on these stairs will be remembered.
You twisted the doorknob and slowly opened the door, unsure of what to expect.
It was dark but the ray of moonlight shining through the window made you see his face,
he was just like before,
just like ever,
he was beautiful.
The moon was your witness and it attested that the night is one in a million.
You can't explain how it feels but there is nothing like it.
You just walk in and keep you fingers crossed, it will be a night of come-what-may.
Was it a night where a love story started or was it just a dark part of a day that let a misunderstood romance die before it gets to live?
This was written to inspire.
Love itself is immaculate; Love exists in so many forms that cannot be judged.
They may be boys who are in love, but don’t they deserve to feel that way?
It may not be an acceptable or ideal setting to make a story but I dare to argue and I dare to defy.
Just like anyone, they have felt the rough edges of the same love story that people spazz in a heterosexual world.
They have suffered the same pain that a girl feels when she sees her guy with somebody.
They have endured the agony of keeping a feeling because of fear of rejection.
Most of all, the very reason why they deserve to have an happy ending is;
They have the courage to take risk, live a life with it and be happily wrong together.
This Eraserhead song playing in your speaker downstairs is your favorite and just like another song says it's like
"A melody in your head stuck in replay.”
Perfect isn't it? How the song describes how you end up feeling this way before, totally caught off guard by your reality. You are in your room alone with a vodka cruiser in hand in a desperate attempt to relieve the pain of being in love.
You had friendship that felt like love or at least you had it in your head that way. You decided to wear romance-tinted glasses around him. You were so sure that it was enough - you have him and he was there for you.
Every time he held your hands you give him a secure grip probably because you thought that it might reach his heart and it beats differently towards you.
You just have to settle being the one closest to him; you are the best friend but never the lover.
Making him fall in love with his best friend is just one monumental hurdle. Have him be romantically tied up with someone he calls his "little brother" needs a deal with a devil.
Gay that is what you are supposed to be, based on the classification of society's gender preferences. That word for you is a judgment not a description. That just doesn't describe how different your case is. You are not gay because you don't fancy guys and never turned on by them. It’s just that you happen to feel differently towards one particular guy, which means you are not entirely a Homosexual.
The usual case of falling in love with a best friend just got more complicated. Love got you by surprise.
"Hey, kuya still awake?" you sent him the message, drunk texting. After 3 minutes your cell phone beeped and it didn't disappoint you.
"Yes? I'm working on my thesis," good, you thought.
"I have something to say" you nervously sent this one.
"Why? Anything wrong, bunso? By the way I asked her out Saturday night. Want to come? I just need to unwind after this stressful semester. I want to get laid! LOL"
Who exactly is he talking about? You assume; a new girl, second one for this month. He will end up just ditching her after 3 dates. Just like what he has been doing for the past year.
You recall his rule: If someone will fall, make sure it's hard and make sure it's not you.
The selfish mantra he formulated after an ugly break up from a 2 year relationship with a bitch. You believe it is justified for him to show this kind of hostile prudence after witnessing firsthand what he has been through before and after that consuming relationship.
“I will have to pass this time, kuya ko," that possessive endearment was not appropriate, you thought. But he will just let it pass, ignorant of the malice you intended. Just like the hundreds of “take-care-kuya's” you told him that you purposely made it sound ambiguously sweet hoping that he will have a hint of what you really mean when you say every syllable of the statement.
“Okay then, but what were you saying?" you take a deep breath.
Instead of typing what you really feel which will only take you three words, eight letter and three spaces.
You sent.
"Kuya, I like somebody. I know it's wrong but I like somebody. I know nothing is going to happen even if I confess but I'm in love. God I don't know what to do"
Again you are good with making your words ambiguous enough to conceal what you want to say but clear enough to let him know that these are words that he needs to know.
"Who is it? Aww ;( the bunso is in love. Tell me!" Just what expect you for him to eagerly ask.
He showed you much care, maybe a little too much. You blame him for being that way. You may never felt this way if he didn’t always share his lunch with you. Fix your hair after messing it up when he teases you. Offer his jacket when it gets too cold or his hanky when you sweat. Ask you to sleep over to teach him his math assignments just to end up watching sci-fi movies. Taking the blame when you get scolded by your mom and say “Sorry tita, blame me!” with a charming smile when you get home late.
But the one that’s got you weak was when he pushed you away from falling debris just weeks ago. He dislocated his right shoulder but still managed to smile at you and say “You have got to learn to be more careful, I only have two shoulders to break.”
He was too sweet as your big brother that you had yourself lean dependently on him to make you happy. Until you lean too much, that you lost your balance and fell for him. But you know how hard it was to ignore what you felt, how hard not to fully enjoy the hugs and touches because you are afraid that you might get used to it and just when you do, it disappears .Just like a how fish will feel after daring to learn how to breathe air, then air will go thin and disappear.
Then your phone beeped again.
“Will you just tell me who?” an insisting message from him.
You wish you could just tell him straight to his face that it is him that you love, and then probably with some divine intervention, he will confess that he loves you too, not as brother, not the physical attraction of males, but the pure form of love existing in untainted innocence.
No malice, just true love. That is what you all hope for.
You take the deepest breath you ever have ever made. You close your eyes.
You didn’t have confidence but you have courage.
Though your hands are shaking you put down your vodka on the table and grabbed your phone, pressed one, and it showed your Kuya’s picture on speed dial.
The longest ring and the loudest heartbeat you have ever heard, the most agonizing 30 seconds of your early life.
“Hello? . . . “He answered. You froze; you don’t know what to say? All you hear is the Huling El bimbo in your heard or over the phone you can’t tell.
“Why are you calling? You took too long to reply,” his voice was soft, worried and anxious
“Kuya . . .” you nervously said with a husky voice, like the alphabet is stuck in your throat
“Are you in your room?” he interrupts “I’m here downstairs,” shouting ”Please, tell me something I want to hear”
You stumbled, your heart beats so loud and it just can't make your brain speak.
Why is he here? Yes, you are prepared to tell it over the phone but you can barely manage. You can’t do it straight to his face.
What do you do now? Lock the door? Rush downstairs? Wait for him in your room? What?
Before you could even think, your eyes stroked at the doorknob, twisting. You are sitting on the side of your bed, numb all over. The door opened. You saw his face, and your eyes met. You can't explain how it feels but there is nothing like it.
You just had your fingers crossed. This is a night of come-what-may.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Instead of doing your thesis, you are on your bed and clicking the remote control so many times that you’ve passed all available channels in your cable TV. Your injured shoulder is your excuse to get rid of your mom from shouting at your ears about your thesis. Today just seem so heavy for you. Nothing catches your interest.
You are now watching some lions in hunt on National Geographic then changed the channel to the next one
"I've known you for so long you were a friend of mine but is this all we’d ever be” The song is playing on MYX. You stare, not on the video but on the lyrics. This somehow struck a familiar part of you.
Your cell phone beeped.
"Hey, kuya still awake?" a message from someone you call your little brother.
He has not got in touch with you after saving him from falling debris in a construction site near your university. You know he feels guilty about it, being the reason you had your shoulder hurt. His eyes were watery when he saw the debris hit you. That’s why you pretended that it didn’t hurt and still forced yourself to smile.
It hurts you to see him feel bad. He is so fragile for you, even though he poses a hard shell so that you won’t treat him like a defenseless weasel. You can see through him. This thought gave you a smirk in your face, you find him adorable that way and you love taking care of him.
You replied with "Yes? I'm working on my thesis.”
You know you have to text him this lie. You can't afford to make him to be mad at you. He will go over your place and force you to do it or he won’t talk to you for weeks, the latter is not an option for you, for some reason you want him by your side all the time.
You know that you are attracted to guys, no doubt, but you don't care about that part of you. You are not Gay because you don’t manifest to be one. Even “closet-gay” is not an acceptable description of your identity. Closet gays for you are those who didn’t have a choice but not to spread the pink confetti and glitters in them to conform and hide from judgment of those who are conservative. Your case is somehow different; you are who you pose to be because it is the choice you took to live your life. You are not suppressed to hide it. You are not afraid to be gay but it is just not your entirety.
That is not hypocrisy; you accept who you are but shall live with a more desirable part of you.
Yet ignoring a part of you had a backlash. Your girlfriend for two years somehow was suspicious enough to fuss over the closeness that you share with a particular person- a guy, your best friend.
In your desire to be honest with her and maintain the relationship, you told her the truth about you.
You told her that you are sometimes attracted to guys. Men sometimes make your heartbeat fast the same way some hot girls make you feel. In your defense you told her that your love for her is the stronger part and she doesn’t have to worry about it. Though your honesty was in good intention, she still felt uncomfortable and broke up with you, ending everything with an insulting farewell
“I can’t believe I kissed a faggot”.
You were in pieces and no one fixed you but your best friend. He came over to your house during the first week of your heart break, sneaking in cans of beer one night. He, who always gets drunk after a bottle didn’t mind keeping you company until the last drop of alcohol. He was the best thing you had at those difficult moments. That night was the perfect night of healing. You see the moonlight through your window struck his blushing face.
He was pretty, regardless if he was your best friend or if he was a guy. All you see is a person as pretty as the night with a broken moon. You were tempted to kiss him and just to take the chance while he was defenselessly drunk.
Then he said, with eyes beginning to be droopy.
“Never hurt yourself again kuya, you look helpless after fearlessly falling in love.” Instead of doing what you had in mind, you just gave him hug and it said everything you wanted to say.
You love him, you are not attracted, it is love in full certainty.
"I have something to say” He replied.
Your heartbeat rushed to your senses, waking every nerve in you, telling you that this is familiar and may be something you have been anticipating. Could it be that he is going to tell you that he is in love with you? The idea is silly but you can’t help it.
He may be from a very conservative family. His family who thinks you are a bad influence but never verbalized it because you are the only friend their son has. You can’t help but imagine if this is really going to be his confession.
It feels like those sweetly uttered “Take-care-kuya’s” you thought were nothing but friendly gestures were said as just like how you interpret it – love hidden in words of friendship.
Assumption is just something you can’t have. It may feel like you are right but you may not be.
"Why? Anything wrong? By the way I asked her out Saturday night. Want to come? I just need to unwind after this stressful semester. I want to get laid! LOL"
He will just decline this offer, yet you sent it imagining his annoyed face every time you tell him about the girls you date. You end just ditching those girls because he always evaluates them with disapproving remarks like “She is hot but don’t you think she is pretty expensive to date?”, “too flirty” or “She doesn’t look smart.”
You don’t get too close with girls because when you do, he always keeps a distance from you.
“I will have pass this time, kuya ko” with possessive hint on this decline it was like he was saying yes with a no to you. You smirked again.
“Okay then, but what were you saying?" You plainly replied.
"Kuya, I like somebody. I know it's wrong but I like somebody. I know nothing is going to happen even if I confess but I'm in love. God I don't know what to do” you stared at this message.
You are quite surprised that it isn’t a confession or at least not for you, even if your imagination was logically absurd you are still surprised to read this. You wonder who it could be. How could you not know that he likes someone? You should be the only person to know without him saying anything.
"Who is it? Aww :( the bunso is in love. Tell me!"
Though you are anxious about it, you chose to be your usual self. Probably the next message will be unbearable. You wait for his reply but after a few minutes your patience went thin. You cannot just sit and wait for your heart to be broken.
“Will you just tell me who?”
You can’t stand waiting for his reply. The thought that he will just make you guess all night frustrates you.
You continue to wait for his reply, but to no avail.
What should you do now? Call him? Are you supposed to wait? Should you just live with it? Or should you take your chances
You grab your jacket .You Stand in front of the mirror and stare at your face.
Just like a dying man’s last words.
“You are going to risk it, ready to accept, ready to break, and ready to be happy”
You went out for a two-block run. A life-chase for your happiness.
Gasping for air, you are in the doorstep of his house. You hear the sound of eraser head’s Huling el bimbo.
The door wasn’t locked, and no one was in the living room but computer lit on the side programmed to play the song over and over.
Your phone rang, and it was the person you came for.
It took 30 seconds before you answered it, you are having cold sweat.
Then you answered it with the raspiness in your voice.
“Hello? . . .You heard his silence on the other end
“Why are you calling? You took too long to reply” the words kept spilling
“Kuya. . .” He spoke in a weak tone and you unconsciously interrupted
“Are you in your room, I’m here downstairs”
“Please, tell me something I want to hear.” You were almost shouting with a trace of pleading.
You walk headed to his room and you know that every step on these stairs will be remembered.
You twisted the doorknob and slowly opened the door, unsure of what to expect.
It was dark but the ray of moonlight shining through the window made you see his face,
he was just like before,
just like ever,
he was beautiful.
The moon was your witness and it attested that the night is one in a million.
You can't explain how it feels but there is nothing like it.
You just walk in and keep you fingers crossed, it will be a night of come-what-may.
Was it a night where a love story started or was it just a dark part of a day that let a misunderstood romance die before it gets to live?
This was written to inspire.
Love itself is immaculate; Love exists in so many forms that cannot be judged.
They may be boys who are in love, but don’t they deserve to feel that way?
It may not be an acceptable or ideal setting to make a story but I dare to argue and I dare to defy.
Just like anyone, they have felt the rough edges of the same love story that people spazz in a heterosexual world.
They have suffered the same pain that a girl feels when she sees her guy with somebody.
They have endured the agony of keeping a feeling because of fear of rejection.
Most of all, the very reason why they deserve to have an happy ending is;
They have the courage to take risk, live a life with it and be happily wrong together.