Kita na Kita (MaColet)

Ikaw ang hinahanap ko

Maloi and I are included in an ASAP US show and a series of tours across the country. It has been a hectic few weeks, and I still haven't told her how I feel. I don't want it to seem rushed; I want it to be a heart-to-heart conversation, one that truly conveys my emotions. To be honest, the prospect of that conversation has scared me for days. The tour's schedule is relentless, filled with rehearsals, performances, and travel, leaving little room for personal moments.

One of the shows has just ended, and we find ourselves back at her hotel room. I have my own room, but Maloi has invited me to hers. Exhaustion weighs heavily on me, and I can barely keep my eyes open.

"Uy, Uyab. Mag-wash up ka muna. Tanggalin mo ang makeup mo. Sige na," she instructs gently.

But I am so sleepy that I barely have any energy. "Mamaya na. Antok na," I mumble, my voice groggy.

"Colet naman iiih. Hindi pwede yan!" she insists, her tone firm but caring.

One thing about Maloi is her strict skincare routine. She won't sleep until she has washed her face and completed her regimen. She has always encouraged us to do the same back then, reminding us that we aren't just selling our talents but our faces too. It isn't that I am not particular about my skincare—I am just incredibly tired at that moment.

"Ako na mag-wipe ng face mo," she insists.

I feel her hands gently wiping my face, her touch soft and caring. Her face is so close to mine that I can feel her warm breath and smell the sweet scent of her chapstick. The tension between us is apparent, but my exhaustion is winning this time.

"Uyab?" she calls softly.

"Hmmm?" My voice is barely more than a sleepy murmur.

"What if I let my intrusive thoughts win right now? Magagalit ka ba?" Her voice is tentative, almost trembling.

What does that mean? I wonder, half-asleep. "Hmm. Go lang," I mumble.

"Eeh. Baka magalit ka," she hesitates.

I sleepily shake my head.

"Promise?"

"Hmmm."

Suddenly, it feels like time slows down. My sleepiness dissipates as I feel something soft on my lips. It is gentle at first, cautious, and then I taste the familiar sweetness of her chapstick. My eyes fly open to see Maloi's eyes closed, her expression one of vulnerability and affection.

The kiss deepens, becoming more intense as I respond. I feel my heart race, my hands finding their way to her waist, pulling her closer. The world outside ceases to exist, leaving only the two of us in this moment. Her hands caress my face, and I can feel the urgency and longing in her touch.

As we pull back slightly, gasping for breath, our foreheads touch, and I can see the myriad of emotions in her eyes—hope, fear, love. "I've wanted to do that for so long," she whispers, her voice trembling. "Ewan ko ba. Every time I stare at your lips, gusto kitang halikan."

"Me too, Loi," I admit, my heart pounding in my chest.

For a moment, we just hold each other, the unspoken words hanging in the air. The weight of our feelings, the months of unvoiced emotions, all come crashing down in that kiss. It is as if the barriers we have built have finally broken, allowing our true feelings to surface.

The next few moments are a blur of passion and tenderness. Maloi's lips move against mine with a hunger that mirrors my own. Our breaths become ragged, mingling in the small space between us. Her hands roam over my back, pulling me even closer until there is no space left between our bodies. I can feel the heat radiating from her, the rapid beat of her heart matching my own.