Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Rinavia Prime

Previously: Neverwhere
         The Third Book

Barely a week had passed after the near-troubles with the two boys, and the Weatherman is back, making his presence felt, just when it all seems the long chill between us was about to set in. You see, we maybe too cozy in each other's presence, but when leading separate lives, the distance makes it look like we are mere acquaintances. The issue comes from hardly engaging in small talk. I would make attempts at reaching out, but depending on his mood, he would cut off the conversation just when I would like to prolong it. I never complained. He also pays little attention to my activities online, even when we speak of the same thoughts, and when my obsession strikes, I would stalk all his social media accounts just to glance at the things that keep him preoccupied. Sometimes his fascination with others fuel this jealousy, and to avoid getting hurt (or mad, whatever comes first) from being neglected, the habit of looking around has become a necessary distraction.   

Only that, it never gets me anywhere.

Now back to the Weatherman, he sent an SMS asking for a favor. It came as a complete surprise since we had nothing in store for the coming weeks after watching the Azkals semi-finals game last Independence day. The favor wasn't that much, knowing the situation he found himself in, and without having to think it over, I acceded to his request, especially since he had to pick it up at the most convenient place for me. He arrived an hour later at my doorstep, and without even saying a word, we found ourselves lip-locking inside my quarters, like we did when he came back into my life early this year.

To describe the moment as pure bliss would be an understatement for someone who has harbored this tenderness for three years. All I know is the futility of searching when the Weatherman holds sway over me. Someone has to step up, or the cycle would tear me apart. Not to spoil the day-long cuddling, I spoke my mind while having a stroll at the Malacanan on his way home. 

"Hanggang ganito na lang ba tayo?" The Weatherman was in for a complete shock.

I told him what has been going since the events of Deus Ex Machina, and no amount of pretending will erase the obvious that we treat each other as more than just friends. 

"Walang ganito na magkaibigan." I was referring to the deeds we do in private. Through and through, I have never seen him as just a lay. "At sa tuwing naiisip ko na masaya tayong magkasama, nanghihinayang ako sa maaring mangyari kapag pinili kong muling lumayo at maghanap ng iba." 

My words were broken and devoid of eloquence. 

"Ayokong malaman mo isang araw na wala na ako sa iyo."

I told the Weatherman of my plans for us, of how I think of no one to see the world except him. I reminded him of our common passions, of what keeps us getting drawn into each other's spheres. I asked how he sees me, and his vague answer makes my plea a little more unsettling. "You're very special and I can't think of anyone who enjoys the same things I do." 

"Wala pa akong nakakasamang iba sa ganitong mga lakad."

Maybe he was careful with his words so as to emphasize his non-commitment. Perhaps, he really felt nothing beyond the trappings of lust, and the companionship we enjoy every time we have these scheduled hang-outs. But given how our lives seem to cross paths without ever realizing that they bind us closer, I proposed a more steady arrangement - one that would at least make us hold on to something even when a romantic relationship may not be forthcoming.

"Can we at least be exclusively dating?" He was silent. "Exclusively dating means we're not in a romantic commitment, just the fact that we won't see anyone else." 

A further elaboration and the Weatherman finally said yes.

It was not the most ideal settlement, one, who is head over heels would find himself accepting. An observer might even think it was a desperate move by someone who would seldom let anyone breach his walls. I personally think it was done to collect more memories; and weave enough stories of being together, so as to make the Weatherman realize what I might become should he let me into his life. For the way I see things, it is easy to win someone's attention. It is the unwillingness to explore the possibilities that lead two intimate couples to drift apart.

"I really want to grow with you," I squeezed his hand as we sat next to the river. In the distance was the Quezon Bridge and the street scene during a Monday rush hour. The disclosure lead us to talk more about us, and what our lives were when we were still in someone else's arms. The day ends knowing it would be a struggle to win his heart back, the heart I almost had when he and I found each other many years back. But knowing I might never see no one beyond the Weatherman, and the difficulty of finding someone like him, risking everything in this seemingly puerile experiment might eventually win us a lasting bond.

Love might be a long shot, but at least, I would never have to confess again the sins I commit in the name of escaping his gravity.

Suspended between the eternal and the temporal, I have begun to orbit his world. 

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