My friends are concerned.

I've never been in love. This is the very first time. It still feels weird to admit it. To be honest, I could still hardly believe it.

"You're in love," my friend told me.

Mind you, she's one of the most observant people I know. She won't just say shit like that out of the blue or just because. If she says something, she means it.

I remember looking at her with disbelief then as I snorted and said, "No."

I was in denial.

How can I be in love? We've only known each other for less than two months! How the hell can I fall in love with someone in a span of a few weeks?

That's so... unrealistic... right?

But then, if I wasn't in love, why does it hurt so much? If I wasn't in love, why is it that with just the thought of not seeing you again makes me so sad? If I wasn't in love, why am I willing to have you as my friend than not be in my life at all?

Why do I have to express myself through writing just to stop myself from messaging you? Why is it that through writing this, I'm starting to understand more?

Like the fact that I was an idiot for suggesting that 'enjoying the moment' bullshit. Or the fact that no matter how long I waited, you wouldn't change your mind.

Fine.

I'm in love.

There, I said it.

I'm not sure when or how it happened.

It could be that very first night we met, when I was bored at a party and joked for you to fly and whisk me away like a hero. But you took it seriously. You really did go to where I was and rescued me.

You whisked me away.

It could be that time at 2AM, when you offered to cook katsu for me and bring it over to my place just because I was hungry. I refused because I didn't want to hassle you. But I regretted it an hour later when you sent a photo of the freshly cooked katsu.

It could be that Friday night when we ate at that Korean place in Makati. It was well after midnight and you asked me if I wanted to go home after eating. I didn't. You told me you didn't want to go home either. So we ended up driving around the city, with no destination in mind.

You bought 6 bottles of alcohol afterwards, then we found a parking lot in Fort where we could chill and drink. We reclined our seats and gazed at the starless night sky through the sunroof of your car.

And we just talked... until we fell asleep.

It could be that one Sunday night when I got so drunk and texted you, telling you how you were my ideal guy – after only meeting you for a week.

A fucking week.

You didn't make a big deal out of it. Sure, you laughed and teased me the next day. But mostly, you were cool about it.

It could be that time when I told you I liked Causeway's yang chow (you know that I don't like Chinese food) and you were completely perplexed, saying your special fried rice was way better than that. Right then, you cooked your fried rice so that you could take it to me and prove it. You chopped, cooked, and drove all the way from your place to mine – probably expecting to see my shocked and delighted face when I finally had a taste of it.

But what I did instead was nod and say, "Well, it's good but not really better..."

I laughed out loud when you had that weird expression on your face, as if you couldn't believe I had the nerve to think your cooking wasn't the best.

It could be that Wednesday night when we watched a movie at the Venice Grand Canal Mall, where we first met. Neither of us wanted to go home after the movie, so we just drove around again. Until I got hungry.

"You're always hungry," you kept telling me.

So you took me to that Tapsihan place in Kamuning. You didn't even eat anything. You just watched me as I bounced in my seat because I couldn't contain my happiness from eating a freaking delicious food. You just sat there, watching me with a smile on your face.

I wondered how anyone could look so fascinated while watching me eat like that.

It could be that time when you made me try that wagyu steak at a casually fancy restaurant. It was really expensive, but you still insisted to pay like it was nothing – even though I knew that you were close to being broke that time.

Then, I got really drunk and began being touchy towards you. But you remained a gentleman the whole time. You let me touch you, but you kept your hands to yourself. You even insisted to take me home already. But I didn't want to go home yet.

"I'm hungry."

You chuckled and asked, "What do you wanna eat?"

With a sheepish smile, I answered, "Tapa."

And so, we went to Kamuning again. But then, you got sick from all the alcohol you consumed earlier that night. We chilled in your car until you were well enough to drive again. I wanted to comfort you so I reached out and touched your hand.

We stayed like that for a while until we both fell asleep in your car... again.

It could be that night when you were frustrated about something, and I felt so helpless because I couldn't do anything to make you feel better. So even though it was late and I was tired as hell from work, I made you that Oreo rice – which was really just a fancier version of Champorado (you're not fooling any Filipino, Buzzfeed). I never cooked for a guy before. But that night, I did just that because I wanted to cheer you up.

I hope I succeeded.

It could be that time at my cousin's birthday party in Tondo, when I was trying not to drink so much because I was commuting alone at past midnight. Then, you offered to take me home so I could enjoy my time with my cousins. Even though your uppity side found the area dangerous and chaotic, and even though you were on the other side of the city, you still insisted because you wanted to make sure I get home safe. You even met my family, assuring them that they had nothing to worry about with you and I was in safe hands.

I couldn't forget that time I whined in your car about never drinking gin again, then you reached out and gently touched my cheek as I pouted like a kid.

It could be that Thursday night when you dropped by my place to keep me company because I was so bored being all alone. That night, you laid your head on my lap while we chilled on the sofa and I played with your face – poking your cheeks, pulling your ears, and covering your mouth when you were teasing me about something.

That was also the night that I hugged you from the back.

It could be that night when you properly met my roommates. I had a hunch that it was our last night together. It was the first time you reached out to hold my hand while you were driving. It was so comforting that I wasn't able to speak, you even teased me about suddenly being quiet. There were a couple of times when you would lean down and kiss my hand.

I prepped myself all night, determined to kiss you before the night ended and I leave your car – maybe forever. But to my surprise, you were the one who reached out and pulled me closer.

Before I knew it, your lips were on mine.

It could be any of those times.

It could be all of those times.

I'm not sure. I still don't know how love works, after all.

But someday, I will.

You know, I've always imagined that when the time came that I'd fall in love, it would be with someone who would feel the same way. It would be with someone I was in a relationship with.

It turns out, reality doesn't work that way.

Reality gave me you as a lesson.

Maybe this is fate's way of telling me that I'm capable of falling in love, but you're just not the one that I should actually give my love to because maybe you're not the one meant for me.

It's funny, because you're Oliver Cojuangco in so many ways – from your physical appearance to your personality traits. Who would've thought that I'd fall for Ollie in real life?

But I guess this is also fate's way of telling me that Zeo's really the one for me.

I've waited for 24 years.

I can wait a little more.