wHy aM i tHe onLy oNe stAndiNg?

warning: this is an absurdly emo post trying, but failing, to laugh at itself. very much unlike that other emo post na i "wanted to kill [myself]." and please, people, i don't want to be tormented by this post in "real life." and another thing... i realize that some of these posts will sound like an, er, poorly written piece of erotica or romance, or something in between, which i assure you, it's not. [i can't write erotica (someone has to be chained to a rock, or dead, or both), i can't write romance (someone has to die), and i can't write something in between (know what, i have nothing to add to that.)]

teka. this warning has gone on for too long. i'll get on to the mushy stuff...


<<-->>


we are on the same long seat typical of fast food "restaurants." my feet are propped up on the chair beside you and my calves are comfortably resting on your lap. one warm hand rests on the curve of my ankle, toying with the piece of string tied around it. you catch me watching you. our pizza looks forlorn on the table.

"what?"

i try to suppress the giggles but it's a wasted effort. (remember last night, you told me that the weirdest thing about me was that i will laugh at anything at the slightest provocation?)

"witch."

"come on, [insert his name here]," i tease you. "say the b-word." i reach out to toy with a lock of your hair, knowledgable of the fact that we will laugh at the corniness of this gesture later.

you smile. then it falters. "blockmates."

it clicks, just like that. no need to clarify, baby. i sit up right, removing my legs from across your lap. my bare knees bump the underside of the table (shouldn't have worn shorts today) and the moment my bare feet reunite with my slippers, i hear our names called.

underneath the table, you hold on to my hand.

"hi, [blockmate]." i say. once again, a fake smile is posted on my face.

at the same time, we let go of each other.


<<-->>


yet another one-hour break. i sit with blockmates, watching them eat. and then i see you pass by our table.

same cap, same earphones, same damned slink.

i know you will never do it but i wait for it.

you don't look at me.

day's starting out fine.


<<-->>


school. class. you sit far from me, as if distance will convince the people around us that we are strangers. once, as you spoke, i turned your way. of course, our eyes met. they always do.

you were the first to look away. you always are.


<<-->>


after class. i need to be somewhere else, like, two minutes ago. and you pick now to acknowledge my presence.

"hi."

"hey." i heft my bag on my shoulder. "i have to go."

"[my name]." you put a hand on my arm to stop me. then it drops.

i have to smile. "be careful. people might think we actually know each other."

you don't take on this unspoken dare.


<<-->>


"can i walk you to your dorm?" you pop into my life at the weirdest of times. now, you look incredibly adorable, like a child offering his mother a crushed flower. (somehow, that analogy makes me queasy.)

"im not going home yet." of course i am. i planned to do so thirty minutes ago. my body has been screaming for my bed for hours. now i have to stay in this damned school until you slink away.

you look away, your lips pursed. i have the strongest urge to pull your cap over your face, like i always do in our happier meetings. not this time, bub.

when you look back at me, something has changed. it's also in your words. "im sorry."

we stare at each other for ages. i have to scratch the back of my knee. ignoring that itch, i shift my arnis sticks from one shoulder to the other.

in the end, i relent.

dramatic sigh. rolling eyes. of course i forgive you. "sure."

you grin at me. (little boy, little boy.)

your hand reaches out and i get this overwhelming joy, thinking you hold out your hand for mine.

(stupid.) of course, you don't.

my arnis sticks are now in your hand.

"let's go?" you ask me.

and i have to give you my trademark "im on a high" smile.


<<-->>


do you remember that day when you saw me at school? it was saturday so the utter idiocy of that statement doesn't count much. i was feeling girly that day, not yet descending from the saccharine heights of yesterday. (yes, dear, we were "together" then.)

i love that smile of yours. it's the smile i see rarely. it's a smile you use when you're sure no one's watching.

"date?"

i playfully slap your chest and i make a face, because of both your meaning and the sensation under my hand. "just because im dressed up, it doesn't necessarily follow that i have a date." i toss my hair, glad that it's half-down so i actually have something to toss. "besides, it's in the middle of the day."

you shrug. (another habit, darling.) "who knows, the guy may be a morning person."

matter-of-factly, i say, "or said morning person might be a girl."

you say something but you stop. the bewilderment on your face is so adorable, i can't help laughing.

im so glad that you join me.

...

later, after that fit, i tell you that i really need to meet someone. and im late.

"it's a guy, then?"

"girl."

"so it's not a date then?"

i smile at the seriousness of your voice. i check my watch. "nope."

when i look back at you, there's relief on your face. you'll never admit it. if i took a picture of you with that expression on your face, come hell and high water, you'll still deny it.

but i see it. it's enough for me.


<<-->>


shit na malagkit, napahaba. sorreeeeh.

bawal magisip ng masama, peeps. hihihi. tapos na emo. joke lang lahat nang 'to, hehe.

toodles.