Chapter 3
"Remove all your clothes."
"Where would I put it?"
"Just leave it in the chair beside the side table."
I could see her quietly acquiescing to my demands, something that she did not readily do before. She let her dress fall down on the floor as she unzipped herself free.
"You sure you want to do this?"
"Would you rather be kicked in the butt or be punched in the face?"
I laughed. Her sarcastic monotonal reply was something that made me love her more, and as usual it bore no emotions of what she felt now. She was hiding her body, letting me see her whole: something a person like her would think irrationally of.
She let her bra slide down her breasts and she faced towards me. All I could see was her mouth turned up as if trying to smirk. This was totally consensual.
"You're hot."
"Don't objectify me." She began to lie down on the bed.
"I'm not. I'm just speaking my thoughts aloud." I then started to remove my shirt, while she looked on with intense curiosity. It was as if she hadn't looked at another person in this way.
"At least you're absolutely biased in saying that."
"Why not? I like you, and you like me liking you."
She just snorted into laughter. This was our only problem, that we agreed to this - whatever this is.
"Who said anything about liking each other?"
"The. What is this, pray tell me?" I looked at her, her haired parted slowly as she fixed herself. She looked somewhat serene.
"A massage."
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My dreams are nightmares. Where you wake up more alive than what you were dreaming a little while ago. Where you wake up more alert and knowing, and where behind your closed eyes you think "what the fuck" is the least descriptive of derogatory there is.
You, 6:37 at the morning, looking as though you were hit. Looking as glassy as ever, feeling like porcelain in my arms. You, fractured and broken, falling into my arms like how broken dolls do. Your fingers wisp into traces of red lace and ribbons.
My dreams are you and only you. And there's this faint thought that I'm getting sick of it.
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I turn towards you, my eyes seeing only you. All I hear is the faint beeping sound of the car going off about shit, and the noise of the background city - Manila in the early morning - slowly drowning my eyelids. You smiled at me, and tried to tilt your head towards mine.
"Hey, you're finally awake." I saw your head clearly now, blood dripping from your wet hair to your cheeks towards the concrete pavement where we lie strewn like paper dolls.
"The fuck. Are you okay?" I tried getting up and sitting, but the pain led me to lie back down. I don't get how you could be so freaking calm about this when I could see you struggle with breathing. I tried reaching your face with my hands, slowly.
"Yeah, a little bit painful, but I really don't feel a thing right now. I just waited for you to wake up." My hands reached your cheeks and wiped blood off your lips.
"You still look beautiful."
"Don't make fun of me."
You smiled, I grimaced. I slowly became aware of the fact that we might not make it. That you could die like this. It was my fault.
"Hey, don't think about that. It's not your fault. Don't blame..."
You interrupted with a large hacking cough of blood. My hands felt tear flowing from your eyes, yet you still smiled.
"...yourself. We didn't want this to happen."
My eyes drooped. I felt so very heavy, like I wanted to sleep. But her voice brought me back to focus.
"Don't you dare sleep on me. Fuck, you will stay alive for me, okay?"
"Don't talk about these things. We would go through this alive."
"I really want to babe, but I really want to let go now. I think I'll sleep now."
"Fuck keep awake. Stay awake for me!"
I saw you close your eyes, slowly. As if time stood still for us, all I could see was your face.
"Fuck, wake up! I haven't even said I love you yet before you die."
I saw your grin shining through. Your smile, that wide ass toothpaste commercial worthy grin.
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She had a certain delicacy on how she whispered things into my ears. How every word became a new reality to my universe and how it sprung new images and scenes and ideas, like a film on LSD trip.
We would begin as normal as fuck, and then progress into what our normal selves would rather be: something other than us. It was always this between us, you and me being lost in what we do and what we feel.
My vision will be heliotropic to you, that everything and anything is just as important as mine. We would put aside what we thought was necessity to our beings and give it all away - making our lone become one.
She made me try and forget the reality that is now and become lost in the dreamworld where everything is as spick and span as an obssessive-compulsive living nest: there is no reality, but dreams saying that it is.
We become lost in ourselves.
