TBBM XL. To My Future Romeo

"Hsssh," I hushed and continued combing through his hair. "I'm here. I'll just be here."

Red sleep-talked intermittently for almost an hour. I watched him intently, desperate in making sure he got back to health. I got a message from his dad asking me if I could stay around for much longer as they wouldn't be able to make it until perhaps by the morning following. I told him not to worry. I told him that I was going to take care of him. He said that he called in so we could be transferred into a private room and I confirmed that it happened. I watched him diligently.

At around two in the morning, I woke up to a sensation on my head---as if somebody was trying to move it over a pillow. I thought I was dreaming but I moved away when it felt real.

"I was just getting your head on a pillow," Red cleared his throat. "You might slaver on my hand."

I buried my head on the pillow. It ached a bit.

"Why?" he poked me.

"My head hurts," I spoke quietly. "I forgot to take my pills."

"Wait. Wait," he suddenly panicked. "You want me to take it?"

"Red," I gripped his hand, calming him. "I'm alright. I can't take it past the time."

"Will you be alright?" his voice sounded caring.

"I guess," I nodded. "Are you?"

He moved his shoulders up and down.

"Good," I tucked my face back on the pillow. It was making me a bit dizzy.

"You don't look alright," he seemed to have moved out of bed. "Are you always like this when you forget the pills?"

"Yeah. But it's nothing," I assured him.

"How long do you have to be taking the hormones? A year? Six months?"

"Forever," I dismissed his short-term foresight.

"What you mean 'forever'?"

"The anti-androgen stops after my surgery. The estrogen stays forever---"

"You mean everyday for the rest of your life?" he sounded suffocated.

I nodded.

"Come here," the next thing I knew, I was in his arms as he carried me over and made me lie on his bed. "Look. I think you're insane for choosing to suffer like this. But it's not a good time to tell you that. So, sleep here with me. The bed's big anyway."

"You're big, too."

"I'll try not to move too much, okay?"

Dub dub. Dub dub.

Dub dub. Dub dub.

It felt as though I was palpitating but it could also just be my headache. I wished he didn't notice how he could make me nervous.

"That's very gentlemanly. Didn't know it fits you," I managed to slide a banter.

"I'm Romeo, after all," he chuckled.

"Wish you're like that all the time."

It was very quiet for a while. I almost fell asleep in the cradle of silence until he spoke again.

"Why do you write letters like that?" his voice sounded really near my ears.

"What letters?" I asked faintly, my face still buried on the pillow.

"To My Future Romeo---"

"What?" I wanted to jump up but I simply had no energy to do so. "You read that? That's supposed to be a secret."

"You should rather be grateful I got a hand on your notebook and not some freaks. That can potentially get you viral online, you know?"

"You won't humiliate me like that, will you?" I shied away.

"If you stay my slave, then, I won't."

He was quiet again for a while. I had no idea what he was doing. Knowing that he'd read my words made me feel uneasy. It was almost like he saw me naked---those were my most desperate and honest wishes. It sucked he had to see it.

"You mad at me again?" he whispered.

"I don't know."

"You shouldn't fantasize men too much. You just don't know how good you are."

Dub dub. Dub dub.

Dub dub. Dub dub.

Why was he being so nice to me? He was starting to make me feel safe around him, again. I couldn't be sure he would live up to it.

I slowly unburied my face from the pillow. He put his hands at the back of his head, staring out in the ceiling, pensive.

"I write to my future Romeo to cope," I spoke beneath my breath, almost whispering. "I'm pretty confident you never had this insecurity growing up because you're smart and rich, okay, handsome---"

"I didn't hear that," he beamed. "Say that again?"

"Less your arrogance and mood swings, you could be perfect, actually. But for somebody like me, it was the opposite. I always envied my female classmates in highschool because they get to style their hair the way they loved; they can wear skirts or gowns and rock it; they can go on dates. On Valentine's Day, they receive flowers and chocolates. I really envied that allot. I remembered always heading out for the restroom not to relieve myself but just so I could cry in private. I simply wanted a life like theirs. I wanted to be a mom one day. I wanted to be someone else's wife. Raise a family, together; grow old and grey-haired, you know?"

"You're too ahead of yourself. Guys our age don't think that far out," his brows furrowed forward, as if he was in his sincerest.

"One, day, Maho, one of our neighbours told me that people like me had nothing much to expect in love. She said that somebody like me would not have a lover or a suitor or an admirer so I when I'm lucky and a guy's nearby, I should take advantage---"

"Tell me where she is. Let me kick her ass for you," Red cut me, looking really pissed off.

"So, I often just wrote to Romeo. You probably think I'm a hopeless case but those letters in the middle of my notebook, they kept me alive during pretty tough times. The idea that someday, somewhere, when I least expect it, Romeo will come and save me---that idea made me want to die a tad less. It'd be hard for you to get the whole picture. I hadn't been writing that much since James."

"The basketball player, again," he breathed heavily, almost spewing the words out. "I'm much hotter than that dude, you know. You should be thankful I want you around."

"There are handsome guys. There are hot dudes. I used to fancy a Romeo like that. But as I aged, I realised, it's neither the face nor the body that makes you happy: it's the person in his entirety. I've no idea where he is right now---and to your point, I'm not sure if James wanted to be Romeo for me. So, I must survive, until I meet him."

"It sucks you only have eyes for that basketball player---"

"He saved me allot. But the first time was probably the most life-changing for me."

"Life what?" Red looked at me, lips twisted.

"Did I tell you that my father used to beat me because of my femininity?" I cleared my throat. "One night, when I was eleven, he saw me try on a blouse my mother secretly bought me. He flogged me hard and so I ran away. I didn't know if it were the whip marks that ached more or my broken soul. The night was dark and it rained, too. I normally shied away from having to walk dark alleys at night---because look at me, I definitely can't protect myself if someone assaults me---but that night was different. That night, I was a butterfly taking flight away from dislike, hate and violence. I was a butterfly looking for a chance to be me, without the fear of being harmed for it. As my mind wandered off, I crossed the street. I got hit by a car---James' father's car. That was the first time I met James. I was eleven then. He was thirteen. I didn't recognise him in his late teens when we met again in college. But we were sweet like this ever since we figured each other out."

I expected him to be mad as I was talking about James. But instead, he gave me his signature brooding stare. He was very quiet.

"I always wondered how you and him could be so close," he spoke after ten minutes. His tone was very low. "I can see now why you wanted to be really strong. I thought you were just crazy."

"I'd take that as a compliment, I guess," I bit my lip and covered my mouth as I laughed tender-heartedly. He gave me a vibe that he could finally understand me.

"Fine," he hawked. "From now on, you should do your best not to get beaten---beaten down by my words, actions... beaten down by the PAC girls... by whoever. And I'll also help you. You're my slave, anyway."

It was hard to believe that I was laughing lightheartedly like that in the wee hours of the morning, sharing a bed with Red.

"How can you swear to help me when you can't even help yourself?"

"Help myself?" his nostrils fumed.

"I'll believe you when you stop sleep-talking, calling her name and all."

"You heard me again?" his face sank.

"It's not like it's the first time. I saw you naked, too. You read my secret letters, too. What's to be embarrassed now?"

He smiled widely. I wanted to know what ran in his mind. I wanted to know why he seemed so happy. I wanted to know him... more of him. I couldn't help but smile with him. I wished we could stay like that forever. We stayed smiling quietly like that for almost fifteen minutes. It felt so satisfying.

He slid his right arm under my head. If I hadn't known better, I might actually fall for him. He felt very warm and safe.

Dub dub. Dub dub.

Dub dub. Dub dub.

"Stay here with me, until my discharge, Hicks," he ordered, eyes closed. "And, Stephie… I'll forget about her. She's getting married."

Dear Saint,

I'm so happy---no, euphoric, actually. They said this kind of feeling is due to the release of happy hormones in one's brain. But it had to be triggered for it to ooze out like this. Does that mean Red triggered it? I feel so satisfied that it makes me want to fall asleep like this. I can smell his skin. Somehow, this is perfect.