One always remembers their firsts.
The first crush, the first kiss and the first-time sex.
What about the first heartbreak?
When all the firsts are centred around one person is it easy to erase them from the memories?
That's why it hurts so much to...
How hard would it be to look at him through the lens?
It's easier than meeting those coal-black, intense orbs directly.
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~ Present ~
No amount of mental preparation and prep talk was enough for Apo to face Mile indifferently.
He told his stupid naive heart again and again that Mile was just another person he'd have to work for, nothing more. He even did ten minutes of meditation sitting alone in the hotel room assigned for the crew, before the shoot.
The moment Mile strolled into the set, with his fiancée hanging to his arm, Apo lost it.
The man looked like a dashing prince, clad in a brilliant white double-breasted 3-piece suit, his wide shoulders and tapered waist perfectly accentuated. Build had done a fantastic job dressing him up.
It amazed Apo how the man had changed throughout the years. His face had considerably hardened and he'd obviously gained more muscles. His midnight black hair was styled back with a single stand falling to his face, obscuring one eye.
Apo wanted to brush that hair away from the eye. His fingertips tingled with the urge to mess that thick hair up, to show the world what real Mile Phakphum looked like. How he looked, especially after a drunken night with plenty of sex. He wanted to unleash the beast within that deceptively unruffled facade. Apo was certain that despite his serene appearance, he was still the same old Mile who took life as it came. That he still believed life was a rollercoaster ride.
~ Past ~
Apo swayed to the loud music, standing close to a wall, not wanting to get bulldozed by the dancing mob. He was still nursing the same bottle of Heineken Light beer, afraid of getting drunk. His friend had promised him that a guy his size wouldn't get drunk on one light beer.
He hated frat parties. They were loud and obnoxious which most definitely ended with either a brawl or the police knocking on the front door. There were always spiked punch and weed around.
He couldn't resist today because it was Mile's frat house that hosted the party. He was hoping to catch a glimpse of the mystery man off-stage. It had been a whole semester since Apo started college but he'd barely seen Mile. Of course, he had managed to catch most of the live shows and mini-concerts of Falling Rhythms – the name of Mile's band. Apo thought that 'Falling Rhythms" was a stupid choice of name for a rock band but he loved all the songs they performed. He had them all downloaded from the net and stored in his phone. He would shamelessly listen to them at all times of the day.
Yet he had rarely seen Mile out of his lead guitarist persona. He'd seen the man a few times at the campus grounds with a tall, beautiful girl in his arm – each time a different girl – walking to his car – a red vintage roadster. They would drive away with the top down, laughing as the wind ruffled their hair.
