Milieu Euphony (In Act Series #2)

Phase 25

PHASE TWENTY-FIVE

ABANDONMENT AND REDIRECTIONS

I do not expect him to accompany me to his studio even though we had already planned it out.

I thought the misunderstanding that we had yesterday would immediately mean the termination of this accompaniment, but I was left surprised.

Why? Because he texted me and personally waited for me so we could visit his studio together.

But unlike before, he returned to his usual hostility, now aware that what was between the two of us—if there really was something special—was gone.

However, one thing remained unchanging—I don't have to open the doors for myself, not when I'm with Michelangelo.

He cemented the idea that he would be the one to open the doors to wherever we were heading. It was a nice gesture that showed that we were closer than before, but I wasn't sure how I should treat it, especially that we were starting to drift apart.

What was his reason for doing this?

There was a hidden truth, but as long the words didn't leave his mouth, it would then be revealed.

"The door is open."

Napunta ang tingin ko mula sa mukha niya patungo sa kamay na nakahawak sa tatangnan ng puting pinto. Pagkatapos ay sa loob ng studio niya kung saan hinahayaan niya akong pumasok.

"Ikaw pa rin ang nagbukas ng pinto rito," saad ko, hindi gumagalaw mula sa kinatatayuan.

Tumikhim siya.

"Hindi mo ba napapansin? Palagi kitang pinagbubuksan ng pinto."

"Should that mean something?" Tinagpo ko ang mata niya.

His eyes that I couldn't read immediately gave me a warning—a sign that I was a step closer towards the truth that he had been hiding.

I stepped inside and looked around—a self-imposed punishment to say that this would be the last time that I could visit his studio.

And when I saw a familiar bust sculpture adorned with gold, I knew that he was still hung up with someone.

I carefully studied the bust sculpture of a woman with short hair. It was made of marble while the side of it was dipped in glistening gold. But looking at the sculpture even though its features were toned down—a white iris, not brown; pale lips, not pink; white hair, not black—I was too familiar about its craftsmanship to know who its sculptor was.

"Gusto mo ba 'yan? Pwede kong ibigay sa 'yo."

I hid the knowing look at my face when I looked at him, but he didn't exert any effort to hide his heavy stare.

Which meant something.

"I can't take anything here," I knowingly said. I carefully placed the sculpture back after I looked under its base.

I wonder, did Michelangelo know that I knew who was the real sculptor of both statues?

I walked away from his works and sat on his coffee-colored couch.

Pinanood ko siyang gumalaw mula sa kinauupuan, ang kamay ko ay napatong sa sandalan ng sofa. Mabilis akong nag-iwas ng tingin nang hubarin niya ang damit—hinatak mula batok, patungo sa buhok paalis ng katawan.