Chapter Six

| Enthralled |

♥

I love remembering. I love writing things that happen in my life that I know I want to look back someday. Since I was eleven, I had a notebook where I write my dreams, thoughts, frustrations, and happiness, and every now and then, I read it. Sometimes my perspectives change, some things stay the same, some things bloomed and then written there. That's the diary I kept with myself most.

From the day I met Sean and the night I watched him sing, I've written two to three pages in my diary in every entry. I had so much to say. I had so much emotions to pour out, to express. He made me feel like this. Bursting. Unending. Happy.

Kaya nang makita ko ang note niyang 'yon, hindi na ako nag-dalawang isip. I went to the secluded part of the school, which is near the abandoned classroom, where I was saved by Sean. The place could have been very traumatic, but Sean's involvement in that scene flipped it over. As if he erased every terrible parts, and left the better ones.

When I got there, I saw him sitting in an armless chair, singing, playing a guitar.

I wanted to pause the time. He looked so peaceful, so far from the Sean who shouts and yells when he sings rock songs. I could have drowned in that image of his, as stupid as it may sound. But as much as I didn't want to disturb him, I had to get his attention.

My clearing of throat made his eyes look up. I took a deep breath after seeing his eyes. My hands went cold in nervousness, and I couldn't move my feet.

"Woah," he said, surprised. "You really came."

I looked away. Of course I will come.

I sighed and cleared my throat again. "Magtutugtog ka ulit?" I asked.

The other side of his lip went up. "No." I frowned upon his reply. "Disappointed?"

"I thought–"

"I want to know your name," he said, placed his guitar on the floor and stood up.

I gulped. I felt like I was melting, as if a candle and he's my fire. Grabe siya tumitig.

"M-Maurice."

I gasped a little when he stepped closer to me, and shortens the distance between his lips and my ear.

"Louder," he said. "Ang hina ng boses mo."

I took a deep breath again, tried to look at his eyes but couldn't. I took a step back because being too close with him makes me uncomfortable. It's nerve wracking. I've been thinking about him for months! I wasn't ready for such physical interaction with him. And why was he acting like that? He always moves close – talks with a deep voice – it shakes my nerves. I could have melted any time I wanted to.

"I – I said Maurice," I said, looking away. "I'm called Riz." I didn't have any friends except for my cousins, but they call me that.

"Riz?" he reacted and frowned. "Hindi bagay. I prefer... Mau."

It was my turn to frown. "You act as if you have the right to give me any nicknames."

I said that, but when he said Mau, it sounded fresh and cute. Actually, I've really wanted to be called Mau. I wondered why do they call me Riz when Mau is the closest nickname I could have. I mean, Riz? That's uncreative.

"Don't I?" he said and grinned. "You went to the club and begged to watch me. You took photos of me. You did everything without my permission –"

"Hey!" I stopped him, my cheeks warming. "I didn't – take photos of – you!"

He laughed. I could have admired that action but I was too busy minding my own shame. "Hindi ka sanay mag-sinungaling, 'no?"

I just frowned at him, and took a few steps back. And then, I realized, there was something odd with him. Has he always laughed that much? As far as I can remember, his most famous reaction is the deadpan. He makes little to no reactions.

I gave an exception to that night when he performed. Of course he'll turn into a different person when he does something he loves.

"B-Bakit mo ba 'ko pinapunta dito?" I asked, hating myself for stuttering.

He sighed and stretched. "I wanted to sing more songs," sabi niya saka umupo ulit sa sirang upuan. Kinuha niya 'yung gitara saka nag-strum. "I want you to write for me."

I suddenly frowned. "What?" I said, shocked. "A song?"

"Yes."

I was confused. "Why?" I said. "I don't write," I admitted to him. Well, I write poems – but a song? I love music but I'm not so much of a songwriter. I know it's just like writing a poem, but writing a song is not just a simple writing. It gives life to a melody. I don't know if I can do that.

He scoffed. "I don't care," he said, and strummed on his guitar again. "Upo ka diyan, and write for me."

"Ano?" sabi ko. "Agad-agad?"

Napataas ang kilay niya saka tumingin sa 'kin. "Yes."

"No," matigas kong sabi. Although I felt happy when he wanted me to come and meet him, I didn't like the fact that he's bossing me around. It's just a characteristic I've grown to have, maybe because I'm used to follow only my parents and no one else. I straightened my back. "I'm going home."

Patalikod palang ako nang narinig ko siyang tumawa. "Mau, Mau, Mau." I turned around to see an amused smile on his lips, his head shaking. "I locked doors for everyone. You knocked on one. I opened it for you, and you won't come in?"

"W-What do you mean?"

"What I mean is–" he paused and tapped his guitar, before looking at my eyes deeply. "You made me want to know you more," he said that made my eyes widen in shock. "You're not supposed to turn around and leave."

I was too surprised to respond. Again, he'd been like a thunder – and he had stricken me.

"And," he continued. "I gave you two favors. One–" He smiled as put up his forefinger in the air, while looking at me. I was nailed to the ground, my eyes tried to act brave but I couldn't. Not under his gazes. "I saved you." He pointed to the corner part of the room where a senior almost molested me. He put up is middle finger. "And second, I let you watch me play." He put down his hand, and I looked away. "Why don't you return the favor?"

It took a whole ten seconds before I breathed deep and looked at him. "I-I know. Fine. Sorry," I said. "I'll write a song for you."

Like a kid, his eye shone – and smiled wide – that seriously surprised me because that expression is an expression I wouldn't expect from a hard core boy like him. It's like seeing a crow turn white.

"Great!" He pulled up his guitar and ran towards the door. He looked at me and smiled menacingly.

I realized... that I barely knew him. I might have seen him play like everyone else did, I might have seen his eyes grow dark and almost soulless, to a bright one and blissful, but no, I didn't know him. I didn't know what kind of a person he truly is.

He was an enthralling book, and I was given a chance to flip a page and take a glimpse on it, and I hoped I would have a chance to just flip all its pages to know what it's really about.

♥