#HeartboundWP

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Day 9.2 | E

EVERYTHING IS A LITTLE better on Monday. The clock on the morning news on the TV says that Elias woke up just a couple minutes later than the usual time he gets up whenever he has to attend class. His lightheadedness and headache are both gone. He feels well enough to make himself a decent breakfast—omelette on bread, since there's really nothing much to cook from the fridge—but not quite ready yet to get back on his regular routine and come to campus.

Afterwards, Elias searches Migs' closet for a robe. He refuses to borrow another one of his shirts or any more of his stuff, so he pops his own clothes inside the machine. Once he's done with the dryer, and hanging them on the balcony to dry them under the sun, he cleans up the unit. He collects his clothes after, sorts them in his duffle bag, and takes one set with him to the bathroom before taking a shower. He's surprisingly doing well. Maybe he can come back to his own unit later. Staying here for a day longer feels like too much of an imposition.

He tries to go through the notes on Migs' laptop after. The chatter from the running television show keeps him company. None of the information is getting through him, unfortunately, but he traces that back more on the notes being in an unfamiliar format, and less on him being in this disposition he doesn't have a name for, yet. He's functioning. He feels fine. He thinks he can come home. But, and he doesn't know why, he's quite not there, yet. He doesn't even know what 'there' means, but he's certain that he's still a few steps shy from reaching it.

Migs arrives around lunch, unannounced. May dala na naman itong takeouts. Elias arches a brow at him while he unpacks the food boxes on the table. "You know I can take care of my own food."

Migs brings his eyes back up to him. Elias sighs when he notices how he once again hesitates, like he's trying to figure out if there are words he cannot say around him. Elias snatches the disposables from his hand and takes a seat.

Elias really should leave. He thinks he can leave, anyway. He's starting to worry people—Migs, of all people. They have been friends for a really long time, and have been through each other's lowest of lows, and Elias knows him well enough to declare that he . . . terrified him that night that he called. The guy operates on a day-to-day basis with his worries set at the lowest possible amount. For him to act like this, something massive has to be hurled his way with him not looking. That something is Elias last Friday. This Elias, the one in front of him in the middle of Monday, is fine. Migs has nothing to worry about. Nothing too serious, at least. But Elias knows it's going to take a little more than words to prove that. He needs to show him.

Migs slips a receipt to his side of the table when he sits down. "You're paying," he says, jokingly.

Elias chuckles. He takes the receipt and pockets it, anyway. "But seriously, you didn't have to go here. Hindi ka ba male-late?"

Migs shrugs. Alam naman nilang parehas yata ang sagot doon. Elias shakes his head disapprovingly. Sana lang grace period lang ang kainin ng biyahe ni Migs pabalik.

They continue eating their lunch. Migs fills him in with what happened in class, including getting held up after a lecture by Ky who was badgering him the whole morning to spill where Elias is staying. "I didn't say anything, but, Lord." Migs shakes his head repeatedly, like recalling this morning is giving him the shivers. "She's sobrang mean," he adds, stabbing his food with his fork.

Elias laughs. He has a clear picture in his head on how things happened based on Migs' story. "And she's so—"

Elias waits for him to finish his sentence. His smile fades when he looks up at Migs and catches him chewing slowly while staring at his food like his mind is somewhere else. Oh, no.

Oh no, no, no. Hell no.

Elias gets the receipt from his pocket and balls it in his fist before throwing it on Miguel's way, hitting him on the cheek before dropping on his food. That pulls Migs out of his trance, and before he can ask what the hell that was about, Elias speaks first, "Don't."

Migs' eyebrows snap together even tighter. "What?"

Umamba si Elias na ibabato sa kaniya ang plastic spoon na hawak. Miguel shields himself with his arm out of reflex. "Don't."

"Ano?!" he asks again, still confused. Elias stares him down and it doesn't take him long to realize what he's talking about. Elias can trust Miguel with his life, but dating his cousin? He has to get in the way of that before something—anything—happens.

Migs shakes his head violently, before he stands up to get some water in the fridge, laughing. "No offense. Quota na ako sa people from your family. I don't want more," he says while pouring himself a glass of water, trying to crack a joke but Elias is not having any of it. Migs purses his lips and sits again on his chair when he doesn't get the reaction he wants from him.

"I'm serious—"

"I am not into your cousin," Migs says, a little louder this time. Elias narrows his eyes at him but Miguel only shakes his head. "Jesus. Hindi nga," pagdidiin niya.

"Just . . ." Elias massages his temples. Parang bumalik ang sakit ng ulo niya. "Just don't go there, okay?"

Migs scoffs at him, like he's so offended by the suggestion. Elias drops the topic and no longer says anything more about it, but he can't help but keep on eyeing Migs while they're eating. Hindi siya mapakali! He's reminded of how Z was able to see Nadi's best friend right under his nose. Wala na siyang alam tungkol doon ngayon because if Z is determined to keep his mouth shut, no amount of anything can make him talk. He doesn't feel like he should worry about it too much, though, because honestly, it's none of his business, especially now that he's not even sure if Nadi and he are still friends.

But this? His cousin and his best friend? It's another story. He feels like getting in the way, and he definitely would.

Padabog na sinara ni Migs ang takeout box nang hindi niya ito tantanan ng katititig. "The fuck, man. Hindi nga. I was going to say that she was so annoying pero baka magalit ka."

Elias shakes his head. "Why are you still explaining? Nananahimik na nga 'ko."

Migs rolls his eyes and that makes him laugh. He's still wondering if he's telling the truth, but he stops with the staring. Baka mabuwisit nang tuluyan sa kaniya 'tong nagmabuting-loob na nga at pinatuloy siya rito sa unit.

"Can I have my keys back?" Elias asks before Migs heads out. Napatigil si Migs sa pagta-type sa phone. Elias understands why he's hesitating, but he doesn't know how to prove that he won't do anything reckless. "I'm okay. I can drive."

"Sa'n ka ba pupunta?"

Elias shrugs. "Baka umuwi na 'ko mamaya. Or tomorrow. I don't know."

"You sure you won't do anything stupid?"

Elias sighs. He looks him in the eye. "I called you last Friday, didn't I? I know when I can and can't drive."

Migs doesn't look convinced, but he goes back to the kitchen and takes the alcohol with him. Elias furrows his brows. He not even once drove under the influence, but, fine—whatever makes Migs feel secure enough to give him his car back. "You have to tell me first before going. At sasabihin mo sa 'kin sa'n ka pupunta," he says, then fishes out his keys from his back pocket. Elias grabs it from his hold before he changes his mind. "You stay away from danger. There are people who are coming for my neck if you get in trouble. Cargo kita, okay?"

"Okay," Elias replies, nodding. "And you stay away from Ky? Deal."

Hindi na naman maipinta ang mukha ni Migs. He scoffs, then stomps off to the door. But he can't leave without having the need to defend himself again, so he stops at the doorway and faces Elias who merely raises both brows at him. "I'm not—"

"Ayan," Elias cuts him off, quite tauntingly, while spinning his keys on his finger. "You're explaining again."

Migs purses his lips. Elias isn't even sure if he's doing this more for his own entertainment than for his cousin. Migs crosses his arms over his chest and leans on the frame. "Hypothetically—"

Okay. That's it. No more messing around. This is serious. "Migs," Elias grumbles.

Migs raises a finger, telling him that he's not done, yet. "If ever she comes to me first—" He pauses when Elias stops fiddling with his keys. Elias looks at him like he doesn't need to worry about who's coming for his neck if he gets in danger, because Elias is coming for his neck first, and he's doing it now depending on how the rest of his sentence would go. Migs raises both his hands in surrender. "I still won't do anything! Ayaw mo kasi akong patapusin muna!"

"Just don't tell Ky that I'm here," Elias says. "And I won't tell her that you even considered that she would be interested in you first."

Miguel leaves after reminding him again about staying out of trouble. When he's finally alone, Elias tries again to study. When he still can't seem to focus on reading notes that aren't his, he busies himself flipping through the television channels.

In the middle of jumping from one show to another, out of nowhere, something hits him.

For some unknown reason, there's a sharp pang on his chest, a weight loaded into his heart without warning. He was sure he no longer had it when he woke up this morning, but suddenly it's back and he doesn't know why. He presses the off on the remote, and lies down on the couch, squeezing himself to the limited space so he would somehow fit. He doesn't think that going back to the bedroom is a good idea.

He ends up taking a nap. When he wakes up, it's still there. There's a weight in his chest he cannot seem to unload. It's not quite as paralyzing as before, but it's still there, nonetheless. He turns on the TV again just so he won't be alone with his thoughts. He manages to get up to make himself a decent dinner, but he heads to bed early. He's allowing himself to sleep it off.

He wakes up late at night. He's still half-asleep when he reaches for his phone and turns it on, completely forgetting that he was keeping it off so no one can reach him. The numbers on the clock tells him that it's almost midnight. And below it, his message notifications tells him how worried his sister is.

He pushes himself up to sit, then wipes his eyes with the back of his hand to clear his still foggy vision. Surprisingly, he doesn't hesitate to click on Ate's message from his lockscreen. There's a tiny piece of his heart that drops to his stomach when he reads the last text she sent him. Bunso. Please come home.

A lot of things swarm his mind—a jumble of words that do not make sense nor form any coherent ideas, and fragments of his memories from the past decade. He stares at his phone screen for a long time before a clear question emerges from all the chaos going on in his head. He wonders, "What was it like for Ate?"

He realizes that they never actually talked about it. They both, to a certain extent, lost Mama. Their relationship with Dad may be significantly different, but they had to share the reality that he's not the best husband nor father in the world. He never really knew how she felt about the incident that happened on his birthday, nor to the events that accumulated in the years prior that led to the family being beyond saving now. Guilt starts to creep in his chest. He was too busy being angry that he never really paid attention to anything else. Sure, he took care of Zozo . . . but he never really took care of his sister when all they practically had was each other. And yet, she's here, desperately reaching out to know whether he's fine or not.

But is it really a bad thing to be this mad? He doesn't think so. No one can convince him that he's feeling too much. But his rage leaves no space for anything else—not for his studies, not for his sister, not for taking care of or forgiving himself, even, not for love. He knows he cannot shrink this ball of hatred into something so small it's negligible, and even if he could, it wouldn't be so easy. He cannot, and doesn't want to, pretend that it's not there, anyway.

Perhaps what he can do is make everything else bigger. 'Everything else' meaning everything that can help him carry the weight better.

Elias stands up and makes his way to the bathroom, splashes his face with cold water on the sink to wake himself up. He knows what he needs now. He needs help. He's not sure what exactly, but he knows that he needs to learn to somehow let go of whatever he has bottled up over the years.

He should start with talking, maybe. With letting someone know. He's not exactly the best one in that department, considering how it took him a significant amount of time to even tell his cousins, whom he lives with, about what exactly went down with him and Serena.

That sounds like a nice place to begin, right?

He's not really sure.

But that's not a problem, because he doesn't need to be sure tonight.

He's waking up tomorrow, anyway. And for this one, he's certain.

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