"It's been a while...Messiah..." you said as you turned in my direction. 

Your eyes weren't the same as they were every time you looked at me before. How painful it was that the only emotion I could read at those dazzling eyes of yours was coldness. I didn't know what to do. Shall I hug you and kiss you on your forehead like how I used to do? Shall I curve my lips to let you know how glad I am to see you? Or shall I leave because that's what I'm good at when I'm in a situation where I'm clueless about what to do? 

I didn't know what to say either. Shall I say hello with a wave of a hand? Shall I tell you that I've missed your voice, your stares, and your presence in my life? Though two years too late, shall I let I love you slip off my lips for you to know that you've knocked me off my feet? Or shall I course you with a desperate apology of how stupid I was for ruining what we should've had?

But none of those were befitting enough to be my first line for you after a long while, so I said, "It's nice...to see you again..." It was actually agonizingly perfect to see you again. But who am I to say that when I am the agony, while you're the perfect one that I agonized?

"How long has it been?" You held your chin, an act that you do when you're in deep thought. "Two years na ba? Been miscounting the days for the past years, busy kasi, eh," you laughingly said, with your dimples showing up. 

"Two years...one week...and...four days..." What I said caused you to narrow your eyes at me. 

"You still count the days? That's hilarious. We're no longer kids, Mess. Gone are the days that we count for...for...insignificant things." Then you chuckled mockingly. Your causality took me by surprise. 

I tried to pull off a smile after swallowing the lump on my throat. "Well...I didn't change. I mean, counting the days became my hobby....ours...actually..." 

"Which isn't now." You smiled and took a swig from the bottle of Vodka in your hand. 

How am I supposed to act? What am I supposed to say? You were obviously turning our conversation down indirectly. Indirectly that I turned to look somewhere else to deprive you of a lonesome face that you once despised to see in me. 

But I knew I couldn't let you drift away this time, so I braved the weakness that had been consuming me. "Kamusta ka na, Sam?" I asked though you weren't looking at me because you were looking at the stage while listening to the performing band. 

"I'm okay, Mess." You tossed a sideward glance at me. "More than okay."

"That's good to know." I beamed. "I've been wanting—" 

"Mess, go straight to the point." Pinaikot mo ang upuan mo para magkaharap tayo bago mo ipinatong ang braso mo sa bar counter. "You want to say something, spill it." Your face was free from any emotions as if slapping me with your untold words, 'you no longer give a damn about me.'

I took a deep breath and reached for your hand. I wanted to thank you for not withdrawing it from mine but chose to go on, for you might change your mind and pull it back. "Sam...I'm sorry...sorry for—"

"For hurting me?" You asked with a smile plastered on your well-formed lips. "I was hurt 'cause I fell for you, Mess. You've got nothing to say sorry for. Wala kang kasalanan do'n." 

Your nonchalance took me off guard. I felt my heart beat faster than its average pace. That wasn't the reaction that I expected from you. I was instead expecting you to slap me or to curse me with words that would dig deep into my chest. But you didn't, and that mystified me much. Much—that I asked—"What's so wrong with you?"

With which you responded with a cool shrug of shoulders and—"Nothing. I just realized that sometimes, some things or some people aren't for us. Parang ako at ikaw. Hindi pwedeng maging tayo. 'Cause, there will always be an 'at' or an 'and' between us. And that 'and would always be our friendship. One thing that I should've kept but chose to ruin because of the damning feelings that I felt for you."

I tried to force a laugh, for I was excruciatingly breaking from the inside. "Sam." I held your hand tighter to my chest. "That friendship could've been a relationship if only I were able to realize earlier that the feelings were mutual then, and the feelings kept on growing every day."

You repeatedly shook your head with your face still wearing your non-vanishing smile. "You don't have to lie, Messiah. We both know you can't...love women..." You roughly tried to pull your hand from my grasp, but I held on to it tightly that you failed.

"You're an exemption, Samuelle," I said as I took your hand from my chest and kissed it.

I noticed how you averted your gaze when I settled mine to yours. Either you didn't want to look at me because you hate me now, or you hate me because you still feel the same until now. I'd surely prefer the latter, no matter how clueless I am of the answer, an answer which you gave without any second thought.

"But your love came too late, Messiah. The feelings were mutual then, but the feelings aren't mutual now." You stood from your seat and took your bag from the counter.

I stiffened when I saw a silver diamond ring slip on your finger. But what made me stiffen more was the card you handed to me as I read yours and someone else's name on it written in cursive. 

It could have been me.

Could've been us.

"You had been the best part of who I was then, Mess. And you still are now. Always. Always that I hope you'd be on the best day of my life as the best man as I vow for a lifetime with the best person that I found."

Fin.