The Case of Falling For You

Chapter 18

Vito told me to bring Andrè home. As in, pinilit talaga ako. He was so adamant na parang gusto niya kaming i-exorcise from the club. Naging suspicious tuloy ako. Sinabi niyang ipahatid daw kami sa driver niya at siya na raw ang bahala sa sasakyan ni Andrè—ipa-park daw niya sa condo.

I didn’t ask anymore. Wala na rin akong energy maglaro ng detective. I was more worried about Andrè, lalo na nang mapansin ko na may putok sa gilid ng labi niya.

Excuse me? I was gone for ten minutes! TEN. MINUTES. Hindi pa 'yun sapat pang-retouch, pero ayan, may fight club na pala! Sino na naman ang nasapian?!

“Thank you po,” I told Vito’s driver, who kindly helped me carry this six-foot-tall baggage all the way up to his unit. I was panting. Not romantically, ha—like, literal hingal from lifting dead weight. Si Andrè naman, tulog na parang bagong panganak na dragon.

Pagdating sa kama, I stared at him like a concerned tita. What the hell happened?! I asked Vito kung sino ang sinuntok ni Andrè, pero ni siya, wala rin daw alam. Great. Sabay-sabay kaming clueless.

I didn’t know what to do first. Hindi ako sanay mag-alaga ng lasing, okay? Ang alam ko lang, dapat may tubig. May palanggana. At ‘wag mo dapat iwanan sa gilid ng kama kasi baka bigla na lang magsuka at magperform ng exorcism.

“Bahala na nga!” I told myself.

Pinakialaman ko na ang gamit ni Andrè. I got a small basin, filled it with water, then bumalik ako sa kama. Ito na. Nurse mode on. Pinunasan ko ang mukha niya gamit ang towel. Tulog pa rin. Pero nung na-graze ko 'yung busted lips niya—ayun!

“f**k!” he cursed and immediately sat up, parang biglang naalala niya na siya pala ay lalaking may pride.

He looked at me like, “Who the hell are you?”

I gave him my best glare. “Sino pa nga ba?!” sabay punas ulit sa gilid ng labi niya. Mura ulit siya. Kelan kaya matatapos ang healing arc nito?

“Ayan,” I huffed, “ang galing-galing mo uminom, ‘no? Nakikipag-away ka pala kapag lasing na!”

Andrè suddenly snatched the towel from my hand and yeeted it somewhere across the room.

What. The. Hell. Sino ang binigyan ng effort? Ako. Sino ang tinaponan ng good intentions? Also me. Kung magpeklat 'yang cut na 'yan, huwag ka magreklamo. Sayang ang flawless, poreless, mistulang-k-drama-actor mong mukha.

“Saan ka pupunta?!” I asked nang bigla siyang tumayo mula sa kama. And then—BOOM. Hinubad ang shirt.

HOY.

Walang paalam. Wala man lang “Hey friend, I’m going to expose my abs now.” I mean, sure, close kami—but NOT THAT CLOSE. I wasn't emotionally prepared for nudity!

Wala pa rin siyang sinasagot, kaya sinundan ko siya. At ayun na nga—nakaharap sa ref, umiinom ng tubig. Nakahawak siya sa pader with one arm while drinking with the other. His ripped back was right in front of me and I… excuse me while I reboot my values.

Bakit siya ganun? Bakit kompleto ang muscle group niya? Unfair sa ibang lalaki.

“What time is it?” he asked.

I checked my watch. “Almost three.”

Naglakad ulit siya, parang wala lang. Tuloy lang ang buhay niya. Ako ‘tong nagco-collapse emotionally dahil sa club scandal, tapos siya parang naglakad lang ng konti sa UP Academic Oval.

He got a clean shirt and boxers—yep, standard Andrè sleepwear starter pack. Mukhang maliligo pa talaga siya. Sino ba ‘tong lalaking ‘to? Hindi ba pwedeng mahimatay na lang siya para tapos na?

Naupo ako sa kama niya. Debating if dapat ba akong maghintay. Gusto ko talaga siyang tanungin kung ano bang nangyare sa bar fight niya, pero... I also cooked the entire day! At eto pa:

SH*T.

Naalala ko. Kanina pa nagva-vibrate ‘yung phone ko. Di ko pinapansin dahil sobrang focused ako sa pag-aalaga sa lasing kong kaibigan. Pero now that I think of it…

Pablo. Pablo ‘yan. Sino pa ba ang consistent mag-text aside from Papa at si Andrè mismo?

Just as I was about to check my phone...

“What are you doing?”

AYAN NA SIYA. Kakalabas lang ni Andrè from the bathroom. Towel on hair, freshly showered, eyes on me. Para siyang Calvin Klein ad kung saan ‘yung script lang ay: “Judgment.”

Napatingin ako bigla sa phone ko. Nakalagay:

Pablo – 5 messages.

“…Okay ka na?” I asked, half-expecting another murmur of “f*ck.”

Napansin ko may ointment na sa gilid ng labi niya. O, ayan. Naunahan pa ako. I was about to do that kanina, pero ang drama ng life.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Thanks for bringing me home.”

I nodded too. “No problem…”

I hesitated.

Should I ask or not? Do I press ‘go’ or stay in peaceful ignorance?

“What happened back there?” I asked finally.

Hindi siya sumagot. Bumalik ulit siya sa kusina. May mission siya: kumuha ng Smirnoff Mule.

“Hoy, ayoko niyan,” sabi ko nang nilapag niya ‘yung isang bote sa harap ko.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Then opened his. He chugged it while STILL staring at me. Multitasker.

“Ano ngang nangyari?” I pushed.

I hated it. Noticing things about him. Lalo na ngayon.

Iyong maliit na nunal sa ilalim ng mata niya. Iyong perfect kilay. Iyong veins sa braso niya. Iyong slight scowl niya kapag frustrated. Iyong Adam’s apple niya na nagta-taas baba habang umiinom siya ng Smirnoff like it’s a sad soda.

“Ano'ng nangyari?” balik niya.

“You punched someone.”

“Ah... that.”

THAT?! Ah that daw?!

“Ano ‘yan, sinuntok mo siya tapos forgot mo na?!” I snapped. “Bakit parang ang chill mo? Alam mong SC is super strict bago ka makapag-BAR. Tapos ikaw, nag-Karate Kid sa gitna ng club?!”

His jaw clenched. “It was one time,” he mumbled like a kid na nahuling nanood ng anime past bedtime.

“One time can ruin your entire life!” I practically shouted. “Hindi ‘to joke, Andrè!”

Maybe this was my fault. He warned me. Sinabi na niya kung anong epekto ng partying with old friends. Pero ako, emo moment, sad girl hours—I dragged him into this. Ngayon eto. May punch card siya literal at figurative.

“That one time could've changed your whole life,” I repeated.

“Just… drop it, okay?” He looked tired. “Vito’s taking care of it. If not him, my family will.”

Great. May hotline sa damage control. Must be nice.

“You still haven’t told me why you punched whoever you punched.”

He sighed, parang pagod na pagod na siya sa mundo.

Then, he did the unthinkable: kinuha niya ‘yung bote ko at tinungga. Rude?!

“I was just pissed at his face, okay?” he said.

“Pissed at his face?!” Ulitin mo nga? Nakakainis!

“Pwede bang ‘wag na nating pag-usapan?” dagdag niya. “My head’s still spinning.”

Well, mine too. And so is my patience.

I didn't respond to that. Nakataas lang ang kilay ko na parang antenna ng jeep sa init ng araw. Hindi ko alam kung ilang segundo kaming nagtitigan ni Andrè na parang nasa Western showdown kami. Kulang na lang ng background music ng spaghetti western at lumilipad na damo sa likod namin.

"Just drop it, Maricon. I won't talk to you about it. Matutulog na ako," sabi niya, tapos iniwan niya akong parang eksena sa teleserye — bumaba ang bote ng Smirnoff at lakad siya paalis. Pabagsik. Pero bago pa niya naisara ang pinto...

"Was it Pablo?"

Tumigil siya. Parang kinuryente. Nakahawak pa rin siya sa doorknob habang naka-pause ang buong universe. Si Pablo nga. Bingo.

May hinala na talaga ako, pero ayokong patulan. Ayokong isipin na baka may deeper reason kung bakit sinapak ni Andrè si Pablo. Maybe he's just being a human golden retriever—very loyal, very protective. Or baka dahil lang talaga pangit 'yung mukha nung lalaki sa sobrang kapal ng foundation.

"Why did you punch him, Andrè?" tanong ko ulit, trying to be calm kahit gustong-gusto ko na siyang batukan.

"I told you... his face pissed me off."

...

‘Yun lang? Gusto ko siyang tapikin sa balikat sabay bulong ng, "Wow, Oscar-worthy explanation. Standing ovation, besh."

"I just... I just remembered how sad you looked when he cancelled your dinner, then I'd see him having the best time of his life with his homies? I was drunk and pissed. I lost it, okay? Now, can we drop it? I really don't want to talk about it. It was my fault. I'm sorry if I hurt your Pablo—"

Pero natigil siya nang maramdaman niya ang yakap ko sa likod niya.

"Thank you," I whispered against his back, parang nasa drama anthology ng GMA.

Nag-freeze siya. Literal. Parang biglang nag-crash ang system. Naramdaman ko ang paghinga niya — mabigat, parang sinusukat kung iiyak ba siya o ilalampaso ako sa sahig.

"Why do you let him treat you like s**t, Maricon? You deserve so much better," bulong niya, sobrang lambing na parang ASMR.

"Alam ko..." sagot ko, parang kinain ang pride ko.

"Then why are you still dating him?"

"Di ko rin alam... I just... I like him, but then he does something like this that hurts me... but kapag magkasama kami, he'd make me laugh and all is forgotten," paliwanag ko, kahit ako mismo gusto nang batukan ang sarili ko.

Parang cycle. Paulit-ulit. Kahit na obvious na pangit ‘yung outcome, andito pa rin ako sa rollercoaster ride ni Pablo. Pero hindi 'yung maganda sa Enchanted, ha. Ito 'yung tipong sinuka mo na lahat, pero sumakay ka ulit.

"I'm just probably immature. Pablo's older than me. Siguro immature ako na nag-e-expect na ako ang universe niya. My fault din, I guess. Sorry, okay? Sorry ang tanga ko. Sorry napaaway ka dahil sa 'kin. But don't do that again, okay? You'll still be a lawyer. 'Wag kang nakikipagbugbugan."

Naramdaman ko ang mga kamay niya sa ibabaw ng kamay ko. For a second, akala ko sweet moment. Akala ko hahaplusin niya ang kamay ko.

Pero nope. Niluwagan niya lang ang yakap ko.

"Good night, Maricon," sabi niya, sabay lakad papasok ng room. Boom. PAK. Door shut sa mukha ko. Walang pasabi. Sarado parang tindahan sa Undas.