This is a Love Story

uncovered

"I loved dining out but Russell was a homebody so we had to make compromises. Eventually, naisipan niyá na mag-aral maglutò so that we can enjoy my favorite dishes from the comforts of our own home" Karl fell silent. He caressed the burn marks on the pan he was holding.

"We were supposed to make our own home, you know"

Vlad was at a loss for words. Unexpectedly, their task of reorganizing the contents of the suitcase became a literal unpacking of items that were mementos of Karl's recently ended four-year relationship and a figurative unpacking of the latter's feelings and insights from that episode in his life.

They sat on the tiled floor of Karl's unit and the keepsakes surrounded them like a barricade. Or, a sea of memories and one of them was drowning in it, Vlad thought.

At first, he was amused by how Karl did not hesitate one bit to share stories upon stories regarding each item: an old, stained mug was a souvenir from their first date in Tagaytay, a biscuit canister housed hundreds of sticky notes that were exchanged between him and Russell over the years, and even an ordinary frying pan that had seen better days had it's own story to tell.

In the end, Vlad understood that he will never grasp the depth of what Karl and Russell had. He does not intend to barge into a territory where he was not welcomed. A baring of one's soul was not an invitation to pry.

He extended an open hand towards Karl. It was a gesture of comfort and the only real valuable gift that he received from his father. As horrible as his feelings were for his old man, he cannot take away from the latter the credit of teaching him about the healing wonders that a touch can do for a bruised knee or for a wounded heart.

Karl took Vlad's outstretched hand and entwined his fingers with the other. There were still no sparks but he has ceased to care as he savored the comfortable warmth within.

As the rest of the world slowly came alive, Karl and Vlad settled in the quiet of their little pocket in the universe. Two relative strangers who shared a single night of history found solace in each other. They lingered in that position for a little while longer.

Brrrrghhh came a grumbling sound.

Vlad cleared his throat. Karl hung his head in embarrassment.

"Nakakagutom mag-unpack. I can grab a couple of pancit canton sa unit then I can cook it here. What do you think?" Vlad peered at Karl's burning face. Their hands were still intertwined.

"Okay" came the muffled reply.

"But you have to let go of my hand first"

"Eh di sa'yó na" Karl groaned before extracting his hand from the warmth.

'Eh di salamat" Vlad chuckled before standing up. He was starting to appreciate the other man's humor.

"Bakit namán kasí ngayón ka pa nag-alburuto" Karl chastised his stomach quietly.

He laid down on the floor as Vlad navigated through their mess, passed the couch, and ambled to his unit. 

"Can you start boiling the water?" Vlad called from the doorway. Karl got up in an instant and went to his kitchen without a word.

The water was near boiling when Vlad returned. He immediately took his spot in the kitchen as the other toddled lazily back to the living room.

"Spicy pancit canton lang ang meron si Ana, gusto mo ba lagyan ko na rin ng kalamansi?"

"Yes, please" came the cheery reply.

Vlad shook his head, a smile on his face.

Ah, these mood swings.