Chapter Nine

| Self |

♥

I didn't know what he meant by that. He'll help me know me?

I didn't know what he meant until the next day, I saw another white post-it stuck against my locker at dismissal. The written note was: hi, maurice – please meet maurice. -sean at the usual place.

I laughed at his goofiness and shook my head. I realized he was rather a joker, despite his strong, scary aura. You just really have to crack him up to drop his fake mask.

I went at the secluded room and again, I saw him sitting at the usual broken chair, strumming his usual guitar.

"Dala mo ba talaga lagi 'yan?" I asked him, walking inside.

He brought up his head and flashed me his famous crooked smile. "Aren't you fast?"

I blushed. I pulled a broken chair and sat on it, too, facing him, my legs closed and palms holding it. "I-I have nothing else to do."

"Leaving my guitar at home is like leaving our house naked."

I laughed. "Weird."

He just smiled lopsidedly. Sean didn't say anything more. He just continued to strum his guitar and creates beautiful notes. Sometimes he strums flat notes, and when he does, he restarts.

Breaking our wordless connection, he said, "Mau. May gusto 'kong ipakita sa 'yo."

I frowned, while telling my heart to calm down. He said my name so smoothly, as if he said his own.

"What?"

I couldn't quite remember things that happened at the secluded room but the part where he just strums while I was watching him. Right now, as I am writing this, my diary back then is open in my lap. It was a short entry, but the handwriting was written carefully and light, a sign that perhaps writing those letters were appreciated. Perhaps when I wrote those, I was in a perfect situation of blithe, recalling those happy moments I had with him.

I entrust these entries I write through my diary entries back in 2016. But not all. I suck at writing, so describing feelings I've felt while with Sean is poorly written. However, whenever I read a single piece, although described badly, the feelings were just as fresh as if it happened yesterday, and although the pictures are blurry, the emotions are just as beautiful as before.

My diary said we went to an art museum, and now, looking back, I can remember the cold gush of wind and the tree leaves and the sounds of our footsteps walking at the sidewalk.

As usual, he walked ahead of me. The music we shared is the sounds of footsteps we create.

"Would your prissy mother mind if you go home late?"

"Wala na siyang paki sa 'kin," I answered. "Why would I go home late anyway?"

"Ipapakilala nga kita kay Maurice."

"Kinakausap kita nang maayos, Sean," I warned him, on which he laughed at.

"You're too serious," he said. He stopped walking and faced me. "Smile."

I just rolled my eyes and walked past him.

We arrived in a little museum of arts. I was shocked that there is a museum on our town! I never knew that! Maybe because I was just too stuck in our house and never leaves.

Yeah, I guess that's it. I thought being an introvert is a lot of fun, but I didn't know there's so much fun outside my box that I've been refusing to see because I myself gave myself chains.

When we walked inside, I saw huge frames with beautiful artworks. They were so beautiful, that in every tilt of my head, I open my mouth in awe. Some are just a splatter of color, some are monochrome that deliver messages, and some just so full of bright hues.

There are also aesthetic sculptures beneath fragile glasses I stared at for so long. It amazed me, stars almost appeared in my eyes. Aside from that is some award winning photographs clinging on the beige walls.

I enjoyed myself looking around and appreciating humans' arts, but not as much as Sean did. I was done looking around while he was just left, staring into a certain photograph.

"Enjoying?" I asked him.

"Always at the museum," he said and shot me his famous smirk.

We stayed there for half an hour before we decided to grab a drink. While walking, I remember having a conversation with him about how amazing the artworks were. Our thoughts completely matched, as if as we were both wandering our hearts around the museum, we were exactly thinking the same thoughts.

He talked (although not elaborately) about how he's been fascinated by arts, but never had a chance to make one because his hands never cooperated. I nodded, finding his problem relatable.

I figured, at least, he's been good with music.

"Do you do art?"

I sucked the cheese on my fingers from the chips we've eaten before answering. "No," I said. "But gaya mo, I tried. I still can't, though."

He laughed, his lips lopsided, his head shaking. "Guess it isn't for you, huh?"

I smiled. "I wish it was," I said. "Or something better is."

He grinned as a reply.

After sitting on a bench while drinking sweet coffees, he brought me to a bookstore.

Sean was bored as heck as I browse through some books. I love books. If not studying or playing scrabbles with myself, I read books. I read and read. Sometimes I feel guilty for reading too much novels because I tend to leave my studies behind.

If there was an escape, I'd say it's books. It's where I find my safe haven. It delivers me in a world I can never find on Earth.

Sometimes I chat with Sean about amazing books I've read and want to read. I felt comfortable talking with him because he smiles and listens to me. Although sometimes he drops sarcastic comments, I knew he takes those thing I told him and understands me. It made me kind of fall in love with the conversations we created. For the first time in my life, I felt so light, sharing my thoughts with someone who is willing to listen. I have always thought papers and pens are just the ones that are there to help me free my thoughts – but then, Sean was suddenly there... in my life.

Back then, I didn't know why we were touring along some establishments through the town, but I went with the flow, anyway.

After the museum and the bookstore, we went to a music store.

That's where we stayed long.

We browsed through various albums and found amazing bands. For the first time, Sean talked about his love for music. But he didn't tell a story. He showed it to me through his remarks and little comments while walking through the aisles of music DVDs.

"I was nine when I started to listen to this, but I appreciated music ever since," he said.

"This is the song my father used to play when teaching me a guitar for the first time, at grade school."

"I never knew I could sing until I found this band back when I was eleven, and man, aren't they good."

"This is the song I played at the club my brother played at before. It was my first song to ever sing but it went well, they said. I think I almost peed in nervousness while playing, though."

There are other few sentences from him and gluing all them up together, I created his little piece of story about his love for music.

His brother and father had always been playing and Sean had grown up seeing them do so, and the little him found interest in making music. His father and older bro guided him towards the path of music, taught him, and molded him to be a great singer he became. They urged him to play in clubs and to discover himself despite his lack of confidence within him.

Really, he didn't need to tell those one by one. I can see his story through him. Gosh, he wasn't so mysterious at all, I thought.

When we went out the music store, it is already dawn. It was an orange, beautiful dawn. The lights were orange, the black birds flew across the pink skies, and the sun is nowhere but its blaze still manages to light up the whole town.

I thought we'll be going home but he wanted us to go to a park. I agreed.

When we got there, no one was speaking. We just sat there, on the bench, wind embracing our skins, looking at the sceneries the warm and happy park gives.

There were kids, a smiling man selling balloons, butterflies, the dancing of tree leaves, the tree trunks with old carved names against it. It was peaceful.

Realizing Sean and I are sitting beside each other with only a few inches away, I blushed. I don't know why. I always feel like this – the churning of my tummy, and my fast heartbeat whenever he moves close or speaks with me in his deep, alluring voice. Or whenever he sings. Always.

I shook those thoughts away and thought back about those things Sean and I did together that day.

I couldn't deny the fact that it really made me happy and I truly had fun. I used to stroll around, enjoy things solely, but I didn't know everything is much more enjoyable if you have a company to talk with, share stupid remarks with, and laugh with.

I experienced those through Sean's help.

"You know what I realized?" I heard him suddenly ask.

"What?"

I looked at him and he's smiling crookedly again. "Kahit saan kita dalhin, nag-e-enjoy ka."

Once he said that, I realized the same thing, too. Bakit kaya? Siguro dahil 'yun na talaga 'yung gusto ko nang gawin ever since. Magliwaliw. Magpakasaya. Do things without any worries if my Mom gets mad or not. Share my thoughts, no matter how little or big they are, with someone.

I smiled, too. "Yeah. I guess."

"Nakilala mo na ba si Maurice?"

I laughed. "Ano ba?"

He laughed. "What?"

I relaxed from laughing. "Yes. Maurice has always been there," I said. "She's not just noticed. I tend to look at things straight ahead, not to look at her and ask what she wants.

"Pero ngayon... binigyang pansin ko na siya. Maurice smiled for the first time," I said. "She is happy... finally."

I was just looking at my hands while I say those. I was fighting my tears. I don't want them to drop again.

I don't want them to fall.

Just like how I was about to for Sean.

♥