Work Text:
I slammed my phone onto the desk.
It was that video again. The one of Bong Go trying to deliver pizza to Rody.
I thought I’d marked myself as Not Interested in this kind of content enough times for my algorithm to remember, yet it still showed up on my feed months after the incident.
The whole thing was a ploy of course to pass him some information. But the concern in Go’s voice as he talked about how hungry Rody was inside, was real.
And I hated it. Hated how he just publicly displayed his love and care for Rody like that.
“The closest aide to ex-president Rodrigo Duterte,” the post called him. Whenever the public mentions Rody’s boyfriend, it’s always him and not me.
I’m his PNP chief, just as if not more loyal to him, and yet Bong Go was the one publicly getting all his attention.
Well, what they didn’t know about were our stolen moments in cars, on the way to meetings and press conferences. We’d blame it on the traffic, but his driver would tell you otherwise. They don’t know about how at the end of a long and hard day, before going home to his family, it was me he’d turn to. Most times it was at my office, sometimes at my house, one time in the mountains of Antipolo where we parked by a secluded road and made love under the stars.
God, I missed him so much.
Tonight, like every other night since his arrest, I went out to my balcony. The cool night air and a light breeze kissed my skin. Looking up at the night sky, I made the sign of the cross.
“Lord, please, I’m begging you. Bring him back to me.”
My heart ached and tears sprang to my eyes. I let them fall. When I thought I was done, it’d be another memory of him embracing me or another desperate please, please whispered to God that would make them spring up again.
“Are you praying for this too, Rody?”
Hours later, when night falls over Europe, would he look at the same moon and stars and ask God to hold me again one last time? To kiss me passionately, all tongue and teeth. His hands would hurriedly unbutton my shirt while mine would run through his hair and—
The rumble of a car tore me from my fantasies. My wife Nancy.
I rushed to the bathroom.
She couldn’t see this side of me. I’ve never cried in front of her because I’m Bato dela Rosa. To my family and to the outside world, I’m a rock. A fearsome and unshakeable man. It was only God and Rody who saw this vulnerable side of me, the only ones whom I could show any sign of weakness.
Still, as I lay in bed, facing away from her, I couldn’t help but silently shed one last tear before falling asleep.
‘Di mo alam dahil sa’yo, ako’y ‘di makakain
‘Di rin makatulog buhat ng iyong lokohin
My favourite song Pusong Bato by Jovit Baldivino played out from my iPhone16 Pro Max.
Now why would my staff be calling me at 11PM? This better be good. I was in the middle of watching The Hows of Us for the fifth time, and I may or may not have been imagining myself and Rody in that movie. If I were George, I’d never give up on him.
“Sir, sorry po to bother you so late at night, pero may update po kasi ako tungkol kay Mr. Duterte.”
I stood up from my couch. “Okay lang, bakit? Anong nangyari?”
“Good news po, sir. Nabigyan po siya ng house arrest. Estimated arrival time niya po sa Pilipinas is 2:55PM tomorrow.”
I could barely breathe. In less than 24 hours, I could finally see him again after months.
On my Sony 100” flatscreen TV, in perfect 8K clarity, and with the connected surround sound speakers, Daniel Padilla said in a heartfelt manner, “Hindi ko kayang mawala ka sa buhay ko.”
From tomorrow, hindi ko na ‘yon kailangang kayanin.
The next day I made sure to look my best. I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, spreading lotion over my head. It had to be shiny and smooth for when he holds it. He always did love doing that when we kissed. I then picked out my fanciest barong and generously sprayed on Dior Sauvage for a masculine and earthy scent. After checking myself at least three times in the mirror (and a fourth just to be sure), I made my way to the air base.
My efforts seem to have paid off.
Despite the huge crowd of close family members, reporters, staff, policemen, and politicians, my Rody only had eyes for me.
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. To finally see him again in the flesh, especially with the knowledge that it was me he was looking at and not that stupid Bong Go on my right.
Rody descended from his private plane. The closer he got, the more I noticed how much older he looked. His grey hairs were growing out, and the lines on his face were deeper.
How dare they treat him so terribly over there? He’s eighty-years-old for goodness sake! But I pushed it out of my mind. None of that mattered. What mattered was that he was here, and he was walking straight towards me.
His arms wrapped around me and mine around his and all the turmoil, anxieties, and stress from these past months faded away. He had a way of doing that, of comforting me with his warm embrace.
“Sobrang namiss kita.” I said. I was beyond happy that he was back. As much as I wanted to focus on the positive though, he was so gaunt in my arms. “Pumayat ka. Did they even feed you there?”
“Don’t worry about that.” He whispered. “Ronald, I’m okey now.”
For the first time in public, he was hugging me, showing affection to me instead of Bong Go.
For the first time in public, I let the tears fall.
“Shh, ‘wag ka nang umiyak. Daddy Duts is here.”
He stroked the back of my head while wiping the tears with his other hand. Then he kissed my forehead, my nose, my lips. It was soft and gentle, the kind that made your heart thump so loudly in your ears.
It was even better than I imagined, so much better, because through the tenderness I understood more than words that he loved me.
I slowly opened my eyes. Light streamed through the curtains. The aircon hummed. Nancy slept soundly next to me.
I reached for my phone and I searched Rody’s current status.
He was still at the Hague.
I felt a sudden emptiness in my heart, an ache that could only be solved by the impossible.
It was all just a dream. A wonderful dream, but a dream, nonetheless.