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"Pinapatalon na kita nasa second floor ka pa lang, umakyat ka pang rooftop. Sa ibang building na 'ko nakatingin."
Not his best metaphor, but message received: I missed out.
When we became friends he knew I still had feelings for him. It didn't matter. We were fine.
Not his best metaphor, but message received: I missed out.
When we became friends he knew I still had feelings for him. It didn't matter. We were fine.
He said once, "But love is shared!" And I nonchalantly told him off: "You don't get to invalidate my feelings even if they're for you, bitch."
"Okay, okay. Sorry. And thank you." He relented, finally.
"Okay, okay. Sorry. And thank you." He relented, finally.
"Our loves are memories," I said. (I was emo drunk in their veranda.) "They don't disappear. They're like layers of cellophane, there'll be shades of the buried ones on the surface." (I swear I was drunk.)
"And being in love is different from loving," I said. When you're in love you're constantly aware of your being in love. When you love someone, you can go about your day not thinking about it without ever losing its weight. That cellophane layer needs not be on the surface.
Of course I wasn't able to phrase it exactly that way, but that's how the conversation went. I told him then, "I'm no longer in love with you. But I will always love you, I'm sure."
I still remember the look on his face then. On the verge of tears. Slightly embarrassed. Sexy in sweat. Beautiful even in Asian flush. He smiled and said, "I believe you. Thank you for loving me."
"It's okay. You love me, too. In a way." And then cheers. I was drunk.
"It's okay. You love me, too. In a way." And then cheers. I was drunk.
But thankfully not drunk enough to forget, because that was the last time we talked like that.
10 years after he died, I found myself writing a "what if" story about him, the upperclassman film student I fell in love with back when I was an archi major scared of his gayness.
10 years after he died, I found myself writing a "what if" story about him, the upperclassman film student I fell in love with back when I was an archi major scared of his gayness.
The first time I told myself "it's time to take back our story," I only meant to write one that ends with you alive and us being together despite my youthful fears. But now it's much bigger than us, old friend, and for that it is so much better.
Thank you for all this love for Gaya sa Pelikula, guys. Thank you so much. We are down to our last episode and I can't help but get emotional.
He used to tell me then, "Love is shared!" Now take a look at all this love, Vlady.
Is this shared enough for you?
He used to tell me then, "Love is shared!" Now take a look at all this love, Vlady.
Is this shared enough for you?
