The Littlest Things

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He sees her from across the room, standing beside a grand piano in a hotel in Ho Chi Minh, and he notices the way she's lightly caressing its black, glossy surface. Inang and Carmi are talking beside him about a restaurant they'd want to go to before coming back to Manila, clearly unaware of what caught his attention. Silently, he watches her. There's eagerness on her face as she studies the piano, but he detects a hint of shyness too, the kind that says, "I want to play, but people would be listening." He wants to tell her that it's okay, but he's a few meters away, in the middle of a little group so engrossed with their restaurant talk, and he can't just excuse himself, can he? But she looks up suddenly and she has a smile on her face when she catches his eyes, and in an instant, like a pull of a magnet, his feet make their way towards her. Forgetting to excuse himself from the group, he laughs when he realizes what he's doing. Then he sighs. Opposites do attract.

He wraps her in his arms when he reaches her, all casual and like second nature. He wants to hug her better, preferably with pillows and blankets and soft, comfy bed, but she has to play the piano first.

"Go na, love," he urges her, gesturing at the piano in front of them. She hesitates for a bit.

"Noooo. I'm shy."

"Go na. Kanina mo pa yan tinititigan." His tone is a little teasing, but he holds her hands and leads her to the seat.

"Ayan," he says when she's finally in place. He hurries to the side of the piano, so he could lean on it while watching her play. "Sige na, bal. Wag ka na mahiya." Excitement bubbles in his chest for some reason, and she hears it in his voice. Maybe it's the encouragement she needs. Her eyes roams around the room one last time. Then, rolling her eyes at him while trying not to smile, she starts to play.

It's a simple melody really – the kind that beginners use to practice during piano lessons – but he finds himself gravitating towards her more. If that's even possible. Smiling, he remembers how she sang Sundo during one of their thanksgiving dinners. How self-conscious she must have felt. But still she sang, and she sang from the heart, even dedicated a line to him, maybe because she knows music makes him happy, and all he could do was stand there knowing that he's loved. That night, he was proud. Now, as she plays, her forehead creases and her fingers falter from time to time while recalling the keys, but there's a constant small smile on her lips and a glow in her eyes, and in the soft yellow light of that dainty Vietnam hotel, inevitably, he falls hard for her again, like that sixteen-year old skinny boy who saw himself as the Earth that needed to circle the piano-playing sun. It has always been more than magnets.

She stops playing. "Love, ikaw naman."

"Di ako masyadong marunong, bal," he answers. Frankly, he just wants to watch her play all night. But she insists.

"Sige na, love. I want to hear you play din. Tabi tayo dito," she says so gently while making room for him. A request he knows he can't deny. So he shrugs and sits beside her and weakly protests, "Di naman ako magaling dito e," and she simply drapes her arm around his shoulder and kisses him quickly on his cheek and, hmm, maybe he's good at playing the piano? Maybe he's great at it. Maybe he's Mozart. With newfound confidence, he plays a few easy notes for her.

The arm draped around his shoulder changes into a two-arm hug around his waist. Clingier. Warmer. He can't help but smile. She clings to him more often than usual these days. Holds his hands tighter. Leans more frequently on his shoulder. One time, she told him she'll miss him when the shooting for her movie begins, and she'd like to take as many "baon" as she can. He remembers how he cracked a joke then, and told her she should buy a lunch box with six compartments. One for his morning hugs, one for goodnight kisses, one for stolen glances and eye contact meant for flirting, one for complicated hand-holding, and one for their silly conversations inside the tent. She laughed and teased him for being bad at Math – her "Five lang yun, love" sounding like music to his ears. "Ah, five lang ba yun?" he said, feigning ignorance. He didn't tell her the last one is for his worries, his reminders, his every "Kaya yan, bal" whenever she's doubting herself, and for his heart bursting with pride in seeing her bloom and bloom and bloom.

He plays a bit of Sinatra, a bit of Michael Jackson. He knows only a few notes but she quietly listens. When she presses her cheek against his with her eyes closed, he also closes his eyes. He thinks he'd like to have a grand piano in his own living room, too.

She opens her eyes and rests her chin on his shoulder while still hugging him. Softly, she speaks.

"I'll really miss you, tangi."

He opens his own to gaze at her and immediately stops playing after seeing her sadness. "Tangi," he says, "I'll be there."

"No. May rehearsals ka para sa concert mo. And other sched pa."

"Pupuntahan kita lagi basta pwede."

"I want you there every day, pero hindi pwede," she tells him, sounding defeated. He wraps her in his arms again before kissing her forehead. "I know. Kailangan lang natin to gawin. Saglit lang naman. And then..."

"And then...?"

"And then..." He teases her with a smile but doesn't answer. "And then" seems so full of possibilities. "And then" makes the "separation" a tiny bit more bearable. "And then" could mean a grand piano beside her favorite sofa in a bright living room. "And then" could be a house that he'd build for him and her and the little Kath and little DJ that would come right after. "And then" could be him missing her too much he'd ask her to marry him on December. "And then" gives him hope.

"And then what?"

He shakes his head.

"Daya," she pouts at him. "You can't even tell me your "and then..."

"And then you'll be home," he answers instead. "Uuwi ka na nun e. Tapos na shooting."

She clearly looks disappointed with his answer and it amuses him. "Home ka dyan. Daya," she repeats, annoyed but not really.

He steals a kiss from her lips when he thinks no one is looking. Her smile right after is automatic. She looks around and then steals a kiss from him, too. He bites his lower lip to stop himself from grinning. He's sure a few people have seen them. But at that moment, he doesn't care. Kathryn can kiss him more if she wants to. She can take all the "baon" she can get if she wants to. Hell, she can push his back against the keyboard and straddle him there if she wants to. But she should know that if she misses him, he'd come running. He'd call every day so she'd never feel alone. He could learn how to properly play the piano and he could learn all the good beach spots near Ormoc, and if she says she misses her bed and her lounge and dogs, he'd stay with her instead and be her home. 

A/N: Because those Vietnam photos made me all fragile. <3 I don't know shit about playing the piano, so if there are stupid details here, sorry naaa.