#yes to selong and papa

[dakilanglumpia]

It must have been good (but I lost it somehow)

I was gone for approximately seven months (SEVEN MONTHS WITHOUT CONTRIBUTING TO THIS SHIP AND THE FANDOM WTF RIGHT), but I came back to drop something off.

Happy birthday, @ruscano! I wanted to be one of the last ones to greet you today, and no way was I gonna greet you without my gift. (Akala mo ba nakalimutan na kita i-greet?) I love you, and I wish you all the best!

Yes, the title is from one of my favorite songs of all time. Also, this “too little too late au” is inspired by an excerpt from a play that Selya and I watched last May.

A humid breeze hit him soon as he stepped out of the cab. He had missed this, the taxi culture—rosaries, figurines, and bobble heads adorning the dashboard; the fusion of rank and sampaguita invading his senses; and the unwarranted but strangely welcomed small talk from the driver. He watched the cab’s retreating bumper, gradually shrinking until it turned at the corner, never to be seen again. It had been years since he was last here, yet his last memory of that day played vividly in his mind like it had happened a few moments prior. A lot of things had changed since his last “visit,” mainly, that there were now houses erect on the vacant lots they had played in when they were children. He knew that this was an executive village, and that houses (mansions, he corrected himself) would soon sprout like mushrooms, but had time really gone by that fast? “I got off at the wrong house.” He mutters under his breath as he spots the beige stucco at the end of the street. With a deep sigh and a resolve to fulfill his mission, he trudged on to his destination. He took in the sight of the stucco. It was just like how he remembered it, save for the grand stairs on the patio. He remembers the stairs in its full spread, but in its stead was half the stairs he envisioned and the other half a ramp. (Tito and tita were quite old when I left all those years ago.) He noticed that the gates were open, and he took it as permission to enter. The whole place felt like home, and it was. He rang the doorbell and waited. The door slowly creaked open as a man in a wheelchair appeared. (So that’s what, rather, who, the ramp’s for.) “Hi, how may I help you?” He took in the man in the wheelchair. He looked relatively older, and there was a certain tiredness in his vibe, but his eyes, his eyes were different. (Like that of a kindred soul, or some shit.) “Um, is Pole there?” “Pole?” His eyebrows were knitted together. “Apolinario Mabini? Does he live here, still?” “Why ye—” “Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Emilio, by the way. I’m a friend of Apolinario’s. We were childhood friends and I spent most of my summers here. Well, weekends, too, now that I remember clearly.” “You seem to have known him well. What brings you here, Emilio?” “I, uh, I wanted to check if he still lived here. We kind of ended on a bad note, and now that everything’s clear to me, I came back to fix the shit that went down.” “…Shit?” The man looked torn between laughing and frowning at him, but Emilio was too caught up in his thoughts to notice. “I’d known him since I was little. Heck, I’d go as far as to say we’re best friends, but I was too slow to catch on, and I hate myself everyday for it.” “If it is true that you and him were,” Emilio’s face contorted to that of one offended. “are, best friends, then whatever you did wrong has long been forgiven. At least, that’s how I see it.” “But you don’t understand. You don’t know what happened.” “Then make me understand.” If the man’s tone was pointed or invasive to a certain extent, Emilio paid no mind. “We’ve been friends since we were little. Since I was little, really. He was three, four years older, but by some twist of fate, he was stuck with snotty little me. Our mothers were friends from way back when, so it was impossible for him and I to not go down the same road—since we lived in the same village and they always met up on Saturdays to gossip over mimosas at the Country Club.” “You live in this village, too?” “Haven’t for the longest time,” He turned to look at the yard. “They enrolled us in the same school and things just fell into place, you know? We didn’t hang out much in school and our personalities were different, but we clicked. We knew each other better than we knew our own siblings, such a shame, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.” “What went wrong, then?” “I knew him so well, and yet I didn’t know him enough. Him being gay was no issue. He was still my best friend even if he liked boys, and the little things and interests we shared didn’t change. Sure, there were times I didn’t want to hear all about some actor’s shapely ass, and I hated him a bit for being able to talk freely about things as such, but I went on a road to self-discovery when we moved away and I found out that I was projecting what I couldn’t be at the time.” “And you were?” “Confused. Utterly confused about who I was and what I really wanted.” “And do you know now?” The man raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes. What I wanted was in front of me for so long, and I didn’t even know,” Emilio brought out a stick from a tin can in his breast pocket. He lit the cigarette and took a drag before exhaling wisps of smoke. “Disgusting.” The man scrunched up his nose, dismayed at Emilio’s choice of action. “It’s a habit I never learned to break. Sorry.” The man waved his apology off with a flick of his wrist. “He disapproved of my smoking, and for some time I stopped, but after that day, I’d depended on it to destress.” “That day?” “He asked me to go on a road trip with him to Tagaytay. We ate breakfast at Antonio’s and that was when he told me he loved me. I don’t recall exactly what transpired after that, but I remember that we were both in tears and none of us were talking. That was the longest car ride I had ever been on. I told him I would think about it, and I promised I’d be back after three days. I never came back because next thing I knew, I was booking the first flight to the US. My family and I weren’t scheduled to leave for another month, but I chickened out on confronting Pole and ran away,” Emilio laughed bitterly. “I’m sorry, I must be keeping you from important matters with my nervous rambling.” “Pole! Dinner’s ready!” A distant voice shouted from within the house. The man in the wheelchair took off his glasses and sighed. “Pole?” Emilio whispered in disbelief. “Surprise.” Pole chuckled softly as he awkwardly scratched at the back of his head. “I didn’t recognize you at all,” He eyed Pole from head to toe, bewildered. “How?” “Polio.” They solemnly nodded at each other as they were engulfed in unadulterated silence. “Look, I’m–” “You’re sorry. Yes, I figured just as much.” “I truly am, please believe me. I didn’t mean to run away from you, from this, all those years ago. I was terrified of what would happen because I was so afraid of losing you, even if that meant that I had to live with the fact that we would only be just friends. But now, I’m ready. I don’t give a shit what others would think about me and you, about us. I love you, Pole.” He knelt down. “I know.” Pole cast a downward glance at his feet. “Please forgive me. Let me love you like I should have done all those years ago. Let me make you forget all the hurt that I’ve caused you,” Emilio held both Pole’s hands in his. “Let me worship every inch of your skin. Please, love me again.” He locked eyes with him before kissing his knuckles, only to feel the cold sting of a silver band on his lips. “I’m sorry, Miong,” That long-forgotten nickname. Emilio longed to hear it again, but not like this. Never like this. “You told me to give you three days, but I gave you more. Three days turned into three weeks, and then three weeks into three months, and even that into three years.” “I didn’t know.” “Of course you didn’t. Not even a single letter came through the mail, not even an e-mail in my inbox. It was like you disappeared without a trace.” Pole should have sounded accusatory, but the rawness in his voice brought out the young man Emilio had broken—innocent and pleading. “Does he make you happy?” “What makes you so sure he’s a he?” Emilio narrowed his eyes at him.

“Just answer the damn question.”

“Selong’s not you, but I love him and he loves me.” “That’s all I need to know,” Emilio stood up and took ahold of his belongings. He felt slender fingers on his wrist. “Today’s the 11th. You told me to give you 3 days on the 8th of July. You pushed through with your 3 days, after all.” Emilio let out a cough in an attempt to let the awkwardness dissipate. “I’ll show myself out.” “Please promise me you won’t disappear again.” “I promise.” He took one last glance at Pole, to memorize every curve and every wrinkle of his face. It was the last time they would see each other, and Emilio was determined to see to it. And Pole knew. They always had known each other best.