Dreamscape

The sunset bled into the ocean, casting a golden haze across the shore. Felix, like a statue, stood there, barefoot on the warm sand, the currents lapping against his skin.

The wind, both cinematic and impeccable carried that familiar breath—one he hadn't been felt in years. It carried the fragrance of salt and citrus which to Felix meant nostalgia and revelry. A fleeting gust of nature that made everything, for one mere second, feel magical.

It was fantasy draped in warm colors.

"!"

All of a sudden, two arms wrapped around his waist. They felt like clouds, as if they weren't real but he cared less what it felt like, and even less about the cold, the wounds stinging from the saltwater, because he knew. Pulling him into a firm embrace was—the sigh that intimately brushed against his nape... was from Gray...who else would it be?

"Missed me?" Gray's voice was low, husky, filled with the kind of teasing only he could pull off without sounding insincere.

Felix's heart twisted. The weight of this man's long silence, the torture of the distance—it all thwarted Felix's wit save for the thought that this was a lucid, elegiac dream. Gray wouldn't be like this unless it was some kind of joke, a prank... A lie...

"..."

Gray sighed, his cradle tightening. "I'm here now."

Felix didn't need to turn around, frankly he thought he couldnt—he felt he wouldn't be able to take seeing the face that harrowed his thoughts for so long, and because of that Gray winced. He began tracing Felix's body in the right places just so he would look at him. Chin resting against his shoulder, he began to get desperate—

"I care about you."

"Don't you miss me too?"

"Come on~ I know you love me."

That plea in his voice almost made it too heart-wrenching to ignore. God, why must it be this way—the moment a larger tide came in, rising, crashing, splashing on their ankles, Felix's heart began to throb as if it would detonate the next minute.

He wanted this, all of this, and more of him—but the real him... This was merely a delusion, yet it was a drug guised like sweet wine, and he wanted to savor each second— he wanted a drink but he knew once he starts, he won't stop until he's at the bottom of the barrel.

"Gray," Felix replied. Eyes locked on the horizon, but water fled from his eyes shimmering with the fading sun, making it seem as if it was lava dripping on liquid amber.

"Please go away...I can't anymore, I-I shouldn't..." He paused biting his lip. "You shouldn't even be here," he added, his voice cracking.

With a quick force of energy, Gray turned him in his arms, catching him by the waist, before pulling him near the shore, and with the great weight of the breakers, they faltered, lying still on the shallow waters.

"Gray..."

Felix was trapped, the cool water seeping through his clothes and hair, but he barely noticed because Gray was above him. Oh...The placid sight of his face, and his eyes... Etched with sad, bitter disappointment. It sparkled with the water. And the beams of the sun behind Gray's head, made his damp hair glimmer like liquid gold.

"I'm always here for you," Felix gulped, this was too much—he tried to slip out, but Gray swiftly caught his arm placing them over his head. "Don't you believe that? Don't you...want that?" Those words made Felix gasp, he was mere seconds from breaking down. Gray's words, everything, he didn't know what to think. He was tortured. As if the very act of breathing itself caused him anguish.

"Stop..." Weeping, weakly Felix tried to break free. But Gray buried his hands deeper into the sand. He had no intentions of letting him go.

"Shh...Felix don't cry. I promise I'll..."

"No...Gray! Sto—"

Their faces were merely a thread apart, Gray's expression seemed as if he wanted this—as if he needed every part of him. "I'll never leave you again, Felix."

Just as their lips were about to meet—

"Felix!"

His eyes snapped open, the voice of Vicente, his father, ripping him away from that warmth and throwing him into the cold reality of his messy, dimly lit room. He groaned, rubbing his face aggressively.

"OI! FELIX!" Vicente called again, this time louder, more impatient.

"I'm up, I'm up!" he snapped back, voice hoarse from sleep.

There was no reply, only the sound of slippers walking further away from the door, but knowing his father, a mumble or two must've trailed off as he went. He always did that especially to him.

Felix's head throbbed—not from being woken up but from the phantom of Gray's touch, his voice, his damn—Gosh... No, that felt too real. Feeling close to madness, he opened the windows letting what little sunlight the time of day could offer. But at least, the usual crisp morning air was perfect.

He stretched, running a hand through his hair before letting the traces of that dream leave through his breath. This was fine! Absolutely fine! He needed that... Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that his dad had woken him. At least now, he could walk off whatever that was trying to do to him.

Felix shuffled into the kitchen, which was also their living room, still half-asleep. His dad, seated at the small table, didn't even bother look up from his phone. It had always been that way.

Eyeing the stove, it seems Felix's mother didn't have tine to make them breakfast. Well, it wasn't as if she always had to. Early commutes daily to the hospital in Batac meant that she wouldn't be able to cook food early everyday. But Felix rather liked her dishes because if it was his father's cooking—mind as well starve.

"Oi," his father called, which made Felix turn to him sharply on command. "Go to Mang Danny, buy four eggs." Felix groaned and rolled his eyes as he passed by him—walking towards the door.

Felix stopped beside his father and held out his palm, wordlessly asking for money. Vicente barely spared it a glance. Instead, he exhaled sharply, furrowing his brows before standing. He clicked his tongue, as if the thought of parting with a mere fifty pesos was already too much to bear.

"She didn't cook. Didn't even leave money. That bitch..."

Felix sighed. "Maybe if you spent the money she leaves wisely, she'd trust you more."

Vicente stilled. His gaze flickered toward his son, then drifted to the hangers. Felix knew what that meant—he'd been reminded enough times. His stomach twisted, instinct urging him to step back.

But this time, Vicente didn't reach for the hangers. Instead, he turned toward Felix, taking slow, deliberate steps. His shadow stretched over him, swallowing him whole.

"You've really gotten disrespectful these days, haven't you?" Vicente hissed. "Talking to me like that, as if you're somebody? You think you're better than me now?!"

Felix clenched his fists. "Maybe you should look in the mir—"

The slap came so fast that Felix barely registered it—just a sharp crack and the sting spreading across his cheek. His head snapped to the side, ears ringing, but before he could compose himself, Vicente swiftly grabbed him by the collar.

"Are you gonna talk back to me? HA!" Vicente spat. "Acting like you're some big shot when you can't even pull your own weight in this house? You do nothing all day, you eat and what? Ha? WHAT?!"

Felix swallowed hard, his jaw tightening, tears of fear bleeding from his eyes.

Vicente scoffed. "You know what your fucking problem is?" His voice was laced with venom. "You prance around this house like some fragile little bitch, acting like the world owes you something. Always whining, always running your mouth, always walking like—like one of those... damn faggots on TV. It's disgusting!"

"Enough PAPA! OW—"

"You think I wanted a son like you?!" Vicente snarled, shaking Felix so hard that his head snapped back. Felix squirmed in his grip, his limbs thrashing, before a choked wail escaped his lips.

His fingers though frail clawed at Vicente's wrists, desperate for release, but his father's grip was iron.

As if that wasn't enough, Vicente shoved him onto the bamboo chair. The impact rattled through Felix's spine, and he sank into the rails, his body curling inward as if trying to disappear.

The weight of it all made his chest heave, and his sobs began breaking apart into ragged gasps. His lungs burnt from crying too hard, too fast—each breath stuttered, catching in his throat as he struggled to pull in air.

His eyes were hazed with tears, but through the blur, he could still see Vicente's face close on him— so close that Felix could feel the heat of his breath in his ear.

"Do you think the world gives a shit about gays like you? You think anyone's gonna respect you? You'll be nothing. A joke. A walking embarrassment. No one's ever gonna take you seriously."

"Bakla..." He whispered.

"Baklaaaa" and then another, and another and another... Another one, before finally—

"BAKLAAA!! BAKLAA!!" The word echoed through the room, ringing in Felix's ears like a slap of its own.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands flying up to cover his ears, but it didn't block out the words. It didn't block out the humiliation—this ever recurring cruelty—he never got used to it... He never will...

"Look at you," Vicente scoffed, straightening before he shoved a hand into his pocket, then, with a flick of his wrist, tossed a handful of loose coins onto the floor. The metal clinked against the ground, rolling in different directions.

"There," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Pick it up."

Then he turned away, exhaling sharply as if exhausted by the interaction. He sat back down at the table, unlocking his phone, whispers of annoyance slipping from his lips.