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It was like a strong gust of wind swept their dawn, changing their course to unknown waters, and Osamu found himself interacting with a different Rintarou—one that wore a straight face but with eyes betraying his composure.
“The water’s lukewarm already,” Osamu said, drying his hair with a small towel as he looked at Rin nodding sleepily while walking towards the bathroom. He still couldn’t get the image out of his mind—of Rin waking up as he softly nudged him in the shoulder, his boyfriend’s brows furrowing at him as he repeatedly said ‘Rin, wake up.’
But Rintarou’s gaze softened as he registered where he was, and his eyes moved to look at every part of Osamu’s face, like he was also engraving each slope and edge in his memory. It brought a shiver down Osamu’s spine, chest feeling tight even now as he prepared the table with a light breakfast of toasted bread and scrambled eggs.
“Let’s have breakfast first.”
Rintarou hummed as he padded towards the kitchen, showered and dressed in a new pair of clothes they bought in Ayala. Osamu caught a whiff of his own perfume on Rin, gentle and not overpowering, like it was only timidly dabbed on his jaw and neck.
“What’re you looking for?” he asked as Rin opened the third shelf already.
“Coffee.”
“First shelf. Wait, I’ll get it. Must have been at the back.”
He moved and muttered an ‘excuse,’ making Rintarou step backward. He then stole a kiss on his lover’s cheek, tiptoeing a bit for it to land properly. Rin blinked, taken aback from the sudden action. They kissed on the lips for the past few days, yes, but a kiss on the cheek was something unusual, thus cute... endearing… different .
A soft chuckle escaped Samu’s lips, endeared by Rin’s reaction, and delighted that he was right… that Rin would step backwards.
“I’ll do it, Samu. Go eat already.” Rin took the sachet of coffee from his hand and reached for the red ceramic mug that he had been using in his stay here. “This is nice,” he commented as he poured hot water in his mug, referring to the white Xiaomi thermos Osamu purchased three months ago.
“Samu, go eat. You don’t want the food turning cold.”
But why aren’t you looking at me? Rin? Samu called but it didn’t reach his lips, the lovely name on the tip of his tongue only hitting the back of his teeth.
Without much thought, Osamu closed the gap between them, his chest meeting Rintarou’s back, forehead resting on his lover’s shoulder. He nuzzled more, closing his eyes as he inhaled Rin’s scent, his own soap and perfume mixing on his lover’s skin in an intoxicating manner. Osamu sighed. He could live like this. He could wake up to mornings like this. He could have this every single day for the rest of his life. He could choose to have this.
“Samu–”
“I love you.”
There was a pregnant pause. Osamu felt Rintarou take a short inhale, held it, then exhaled through his nose. He was aware of his heartbeat drumming against Rin’s back, but it didn’t matter. Because he loved him as much as his beating heart would expound, and if it were the only way to let Rintarou know of how true his words meant, then Osamu wouldn’t mind feeling all too much at the expense of his ribcage.
His words fluttered in the air, like thin fabric blown by the wind, an impending vicious storm sighted from afar. I deserve it, Osamu thought. He was, after all, a voyager who wanted more.
-
5 AM. Early morning. So early that the wide U.N. Avenue was eerily quiet as their taxi ride was moving towards Mactan-Cebu International Airport. The streets were empty, less than 5 vehicles had traversed to the opposite lane for the past few minutes.
“Where are you two going?” The question broke the long silence inside the car that mimicked the bleak scene from the outside.
Osamu glanced to his left before looking at the rearview mirror.
“To Davao,” he replied.
The driver hummed before responding, “You two take care on your flight.”
He thanked the driver, not minding the inaccuracy in his statement—of that one word that mocked them as they sat at the back, one small luggage between their feet, two hands in the middle of the backseat. Osamu’s left hand laid atop Rintarou’s right one. His fingers slotted between them, thumb gently soothing his lover’s little finger, between the middle and proximal creases.
Osamu looked up at his lover gazing outside the car’s window. The steady rise and fall of Rintarou’s chest calmed Osamu down, his own repose dependent on his lover’s breathing. Because truth be told, despite how many epistemic theories of truth there are, Osamu’s universal truth is Rintarou’s peace.
His bearings, cognitive structures, collected demeanor—it will all break loose if Rin crumbles, if Rin falls apart in front of him. Because ever since he had come to love Rintarou, Osamu made it his life’s mission to protect him.
Yet, in this early April morning, it seemed like the tables would be turning, and it squeezed Osamu’s chest like no other. It made breathing difficult, made him want to rip open his chest and put the fire out—extinguishing the tiny little voice that says, ‘You’re going home. Can I say it already?’
“Rin…” he whispered.
As if he knew as well of the dreaded question inside Osamu’s mind, Rintarou answered with a tight squeeze from his hand. It spoke more than a verbal one, and Osamu held back the words, nodding as he knew that Rin could see him in his periphery.
-
Out of the hundred chances, Osamu got the perfect timing on the day it rained at the temple. He thought it was heaven's way of punishing him for making it rain, chasing people away from the pagoda and giving the temple the solemnity it needed as if they were the only people in the world. It reminded him of the certain coldness it brings.
As the automatic glass door opened, a rush of cold air greeted his skin. Was it always this cold? Was it the airport’s generous air conditioning system? Or the early morning humidity? He forgot to answer his own questions when he got overwhelmed at how spacious the airport was. How empty it looked. How quiet it was.
Like the heavens were setting the perfect breakup scene, tempting him like Eve with her apple.
He held Rintarou’s wrist, stopping him. The other turned to look at him, eyebrows raising as a question. Osamu sighed, “Rin, come on let’s talk. I’m just ‘til here.” His brows met in further worry. “You know I don’t have a ticket right?”
Upon hearing, Rintarou abruptly looked away and he stepped aside, letting a lone passenger pass through the third ticket lane. Osamu followed Rintarou as he stood a bit far from the lanes and he watched expectantly as Rin fished out something from his handbag.
“I booked last Thursday.”
Plane tickets. Two. Osamu blinked as Rin handed him the other one.
“Rin...” The words died out in his mouth. Thursday. Thursday… Ah, when Rin texted one noon that he would go outside the apartment while he was working. It was before their Bantayan Island weekend.
“I can’t–” join you , Osamu thought, but decided not to continue. The word melted on his palate, tasting bland and wrenching his gut unpleasantly.
Rintarou’s stare turned cold as his hand dropped. “I know. I don’t even know why I bought two.” His gaze had a bite in it that made Osamu almost shiver. Rin turned away, voice wavering as he muttered, “Come with me. Even just inside. ”
And so Osamu did, steps calculated as he followed Rin to the boarding area, wary eyes observing his lover. Airports on early mornings are quiet, and Cebu’s domestic terminal is no exception, its white interior amplifying the solemn mood between them. They sat beside each other like two magnets gravitating naturally, but each held back by outside forces which gave them quite a bit distance—enough not to collide, enough to be reminded of the new space they must get used to.
But Osamu and Rintarou were two stubborn souls who wished to play one more round of hide and seek with the Great Timekeeper. At the first tick they ran.
“They offered you work?”
“Mm. They also said I can review here for the board exams.”
“Your parents miss you.”
“I’ll come home after my internship in May. Around 1 week, I think.”
They hid, crouching their heads low.
“We forgot to buy a dress for your sister.”
“I’m just gonna buy it when I get home.”
“I’ll send you my part.”
“No need.”
They ran again.
“You've been absent from work for past one week already.”
“I’ll just ask my friend’s father for a med cert.”
“Will it be okay?”
“Work likes me. They won’t kick me out.”
Osamu chuckled. They stilled; the Timekeeper heard them.
“Always take good care, Rin.”
“Mm… Good luck on your board.”
The clouds where they hid disappeared and they were back to where they were seated, having exhausted all the pleasantries, having reached the end of the bargain. They were at the precipice, one step left to free falling from defeat or freedom, however they’d like to see it.
But from the way they both hang their heads low, it will be the first.
“You say it.” Rintarou started, in a constricted, almost pained voice. “You say it so I can accept it.”
The color drained from Osamu’s face, palms getting colder by the minute. “Rin…” He closed his eyes, preparing for the impact, preparing for its pungent tang on his taste buds. “Let’s break up.”
Awful. It sounded awful. With its sound came its unpalatable taste on Osamu’s tongue—rancid and off-putting. It felt horrible in all of his senses and he would revolt against himself only if he did not devote himself to anything from the start. But he did, and he doesn’t know if he’d regret it or not.
Osamu has always been devoted to Rintarou, but not this time. Not this time when his devotion is split in half: the first, found in the land of promise, and the other, in the queen city of the south.
And with deafening silence around, like everything was put to halt for this leaden moment, Rin replied, “Okay.”
Another string of complete silence swept before them, and all Osamu could hear was his heart distressingly pounding against his chest. With pained effort, he looked at Rin to his right, heart dropping at the sight of his lover turning away his head from him.
“Rin...” Osamu called weakly. But Rintarou remained looking to the right, where he couldn't see him. And Osamu knew why, because he felt the same. To see each other’s faces would shatter their resolve, and it would defeat their gamble with fate, their wager with time. Fundamentally, it would make their words meaningless, would make the gradual buildup of every moment they shared in this city a farce.
But Osamu, ever since loving Rintarou, had always pleaded.
“Rin, look at me, please.”
Nothing. Osamu’s throat hurt, the lump making it hard to swallow. He repeated Rin’s name again and his voice broke. He heard a sharp intake of breath from the other.
“Rin? Please?”
Rintarou brought his head back but kept his gaze down at the granite flooring of the airport. Osamu looked at his side features: the slope of Rin’s forehead, his threaded brows, his lashes that are long enough to flutter against Osamu’s cheeks from the nights they spent together, the bridge of his nose, the tip that Osamu kisses all the time, and his lips... His lips that made him love life even more.
Arbitrarily, Rintarou raised his hand and opened his left palm, waiting. Osamu paused, stealing seconds to steady himself, then he put his hand atop Rin’s, two palms meeting. Rintarou visibly shuddered from the contact, his hand warm against Osamu’s cold one. Osamu muttered a soft apology and Rin only hummed in response.
-
“Rin..” Osamu called. It was weak and it ached Rintarou’s chest even more. He chose to look at the empty rows of chairs to his right, not wanting to see Osamu’s face despite the strong urge to do so.
“Rin, look at me, please.”
Fuck. Baby, not that voice.
“Rin? Please?”
Goddammit.
He still couldn’t look at Osamu. His face, handsome and kind, has always been Rintarou’s reset. His camera roll is almost 70 percent Osamu. He scrolls through his camera roll when he misses him, when he needs a reminder of love and life after a long tiring day at work. Statistically, the number rose to 80 the moment he reunited with him here in Cebu. And so he won’t. Couldn’t, even. Because having to look at Osamu’s face would reset the buildup, and it would crumble the walls he'd been trying to knock together this morning.
And so Rintarou offered his hand, waiting for Osamu to lay his on top. This was the only thing he could think of doing, the only thing he permitted himself one last luxury of having. Samu obliged and Rin was met with a cold palm. He didn’t mind because Samu’s hand was there. And though his palms were rough from work and cooking, fingers shorter and thicker than Rin’s, Osamu’s hand was the most perfect thing Rintarou had ever held onto.
He brought Osamu’s hand to his lips, planting a kiss on the back of it. His lips stayed, head chanting silent prayers. Rintarou isn’t the religious type but he would repeat prayers for Osamu, and would recite the rosary if he has to. Because ultimately, love is stored in the hands of Osamu Miya. They hold his passion, ambitions, and aspirations. His hands mean so much to Rintarou more than he could ever imagine.
For someone nonchalant and content with watching loved ones flourish before him, for someone selfless enough to take a step back to let others move forward, Rintarou knew staying in this city meant something to Osamu. Because now, his ambitions took shape, his aspirations solidified, and his passion redefined. For someone who chased his dreams in an unfamiliar city, Rintarou knew staying here meant everything to Osamu.
And though it pains him, it still is an honor to know that the spaces between Osamu’s fingers are where Rintarou belonged. He filled the spaces, his own slotting perfectly like home, intertwined fingers like puzzle pieces dropped by stars light-years away.
The pre-boarding announcement echoed through the speakers with the flight attendant’s friendly voice masking the broken quality of the sound.
‘Calling all the passengers for flight 5J 589 bound for Davao City…’
And it was only after it ended that lips parted from Osamu’s hand. It took all of what so little left in Rintarou’s courage to make himself stand, grip on the luggage handle tight as he looked straight towards where he was headed, somewhat surprised that there were already a few people in the entirety of the boarding area.
A sniffle from the other almost made Rintarou kneel, knees weakened at the quiet sobs Osamu held. What should he say? Bye? Too overused. Rintarou doesn’t want it. See you someday? What the hell even is that? No one has ever said that. His brows met, pushing all thoughts aside as he settled on a lame one.
“Just chat me if ever.”
Not looking back, he walked towards his gate with one ticket in his hand and a suitcase in the other. He felt numb, face stoic as he was greeted by the flight attendants. He knew he couldn’t cry in front of Osamu. He knew he had to be the stronger one. Because if he did, if he cried… then maybe Osamu would take it all back, would throw his dreams away, would put Rin on a pedestal again. And Rintarou doesn’t want that. He wouldn’t rob his love of his future… of a very good one.
It was only when the altitudes were high that it dawned on him—the crushing somber weight of a solitary flight contrary to the yellow hues outside—that it was done. That time spent with Osamu was done. That calling Osamu his love, his home, and his world, was done.