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Choose me never. (Choose me forever.)
Placido Penitente does not like weddings.
You would not like them either. Not if you spent the evening of Valentine's Day with that man ready to stand in front of the altar, at his house, on his bed, in his arms all those months ago. Not if just last week he could kiss you in and out of this world, smile his way to your happiness. Not if three days ago he held your hand like you were all he had. You would not like them either. Not when last night had been bare skin on bare skin— Now you're shaking hands with hands that shook his.
Placido Penitente is a guest at his wedding. That is all he is.
This wedding makes him want to explode.
The man that's going to be standing at the altar is more of a boy— a child. (Unfortunately for Placido, children can be too resilient for their own good— It may take entirely too long for them to learn their lessons. Unfortunately for Placido, children make a mess of everything— They may break things without ever meaning to. Unfortunately for Placido, he is in love with that man.)
You don't tell a man that you love him, and get married to someone else the next day.
Juanito Pelaez makes terrible choices. It's a wonder to Placido how his father trusts him to make business deals and important decisions. (Except it's not, really. Because he knows Juanito. Because he believes in Juanito more than the boy believes in himself.)
The thing, you see, about Placido, is that he has always had enough faith in Juanito. The boy makes terrible choices. But he chose to visit seven times at the hospital when they were nine and he had dengue, which is as much as his mother would let him. But he chose to constantly stand up for him when they were twelve, even though he always told him that he was stupid and annoying. But he chose to go to the same college as him when they were eighteen. But he chose to be a friend— And that, single-handedly, is the best and worst decision that Juanito has ever made for Placido.
Placido has his fair share of terrible choices. Including going to this wedding.
For a moment, he looks toward Isagani. But while the man seems more reserved than usual, there he is laughing softly next to Basilio. (He muses, half-hysteric, to himself about how funny it is that Isagani's world is in tact while his is far from it. He finds it a bit pathetic, that Juanito is all he has. Or was. Or had. He can't be bothered to think of verb tenses— I love you, I loved you, I love you.)
When he looks away, he makes accidental eye contact with the husband-to-be. He takes a deep breath, and then drops his gaze.
Another deep breath, and then he steps out of the church doors. (Just for a while. Just as long as it takes for him to breathe out his frustrations toward this unfair world— He's not leaving. He could never do that to Juanito. Today is not about him. No day really is.)
"For the record, I knew you were together," he hears from behind him.
But he also hears car horns sounding, the wind blowing by, people talking each other's ears off with meaningless pleasantries, birds chirping away. He hears shuffling of feet, someone stepping closer to him. It's almost inaudible. (He knows what this is. They're all afraid that he's going to break.)
He ignores all of these things.
"I think we all did." A passing silence. "You are going back in there, right?"
He shrugs, nods along numbly. He raises one hand without turning; five minutes, it's meant to say. (If that is not enough time to put his heart back together, then it might be enough to pretend.)
"Funny," Placido laughs to himself once he feels the other man leave. "We never even really... broke up. But I suppose getting married to someone else is close enough."
He can't even find it in himself to be angry.
Apart from every Valentine's morning, Juanito had been wholly his. Until today. That all stops today. (And somehow, Placido cannot fathom why, the world chooses to go on.)
Sometimes, he wonders how they had ever gotten away with this. Valentine's mornings: when the skies were bright blue, and they'd convince Juanito's father that Paulita Gomez keeps him so happy. Because nothing says true love, like having to prove it at the same time as everyone else.
The inevitable truth is: Valentine's evenings will cease to exist for them. Everyday will be a Valentine's morning; the sun will never go down, and he will never fall asleep the same again. (And February has always been a relatively cold month.)
He can't even find it in himself to be angry. He knew that this was coming. Because he had tested the waters— it was too hot, or too cold, or just too good to be true— and he stuck around anyway, kept getting too close to the deep end.
His five minutes pass.
He plasters a small smile in his face, small enough that no one can see through its half-hearted sincerity. (Pretend it is, then.)
His seat is on the first pew, right next to the aisle. When the ceremony starts, he has no means of escape.
(Juanito really wants him here for this— Placido, his best friend. Not Placido, the man he's in love with. Because Juanito does not need to be in love today, lest he ruin things between him and his father. Because Juanito does not need to be in love today, lest he disappoint the woman walking down the aisle in white. Because Juanito does not need to be in love today, not that he can help it.)
Placido, his best friend. (But not his best man because Juanito just might have enough decency in him.)
He can feel Isagani stare holes into the back of his head, but he only looks forward. He will sit through this, be a supportive best friend if it is the last thing that he does. (The imaginary weight that presses against his chest tells him that it might be.)
He grits his teeth so hard that he does not hear most of the ceremony. He blanks out whatever his hearing doesn't, tries to disappear. However, he makes the mistake of making eye contact with the man at the altar, who really ought to be looking at his wife-to-be.
That's when he comes back into reality, and when Paulita says, "I do."
He takes a deep breath, and then maintains eye contact. He mouths the words.
Juanito breaks eye contact, makes his grin thrice as big to compensate for the things he should not be doing— the things he should not be feeling. Juanito looks Paulita in the eye, attempts to block out his peripheral entirely. "I do."
"You may now kiss the bride."
What Juanito does not know, is that Placido only mouths the words in anticipation. Of when he begins to unwind every memory they've ever had. (He has always had enough faith in Juanito. Until today. That all ends today.)
What Juanito does not know, is that Placido only mouths the words in hope. That perhaps, the boy will stand up for him like when they were twelve. But his father can influence a room full of businessmen, what more his own son. (I love you, I loved you, I love you.)
What Juanito does not know, is that Placido only mouths the words as encouragement. For a moment, he becomes the supportive best friend that tells him to go through with this. (Juanito is all he has. Or was. Or had. Today is not about him. No day really is.)
He smiles at Mr. & Mrs. Juanito Pelaez.
Placido Penitente is a guest at his wedding. That is all he is.
Choose me when your thoughts are clear, when you're done allowing her to kiss you like I'd like to.