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“Kanila Nyong ka na naman galing?”
Wyatt nodded as he unlocked the gate to their empty house. He wasn’t really surprised Miguel turned up mere minutes after he sent his last text. If anything, he had expected it and was thankful his hunch was right. “Ba’t ‘di ka pumasok sa school?”
“P.E. lang naman,” Miguel said with a shrug. His footsteps were heavy behind Wyatt.
It stung that Miguel kept his distance from him as they made their way inside. It stung even more when they reached his bedroom and Miguel stopped by the open doorway instead of sitting beside him in bed. Maybe he was being careful they wouldn’t end up doing what they once did. Wyatt would laugh if there was any humor left in him.
“Dads aren’t home.”
“Okay.”
“Dito ka,” Wyatt said.
“Okay lang ako.”
“Nagseselos ka ba kay Nyong?”
“May kailangan bang pagselosan?”
There went the nights upon nights of him writing and re-writing what he wanted to say to Miguel. His trashcan had been filled to the brim with pieces of paper torn from his notebook, torn to pieces, until the words, hardly enough and always too much, were undecipherable. What else was there to say but the simple truth?
Wyatt caught his tongue between his teeth as he watched his boyfriend avoid making eye contact. He bit down hard, just until the pain overshadowed the weight in his chest. “Ang bata pa nga natin, ‘no?”
“Sinabi mo na rin ‘yan dati.”
“Kasi it’s true.”
“Ano naman ngayon?” Anger never looked quite right on Miguel. Didn’t sound right on him either. He huffed, hands trembling as he balled them into tight fists, though he could never shake off the gentle lines of his face nor the soft lilt in his voice. “Ibig sabihin ba niyan ‘di na ‘to totoo? Wala na lang ba ‘to para sa ‘yo kasi bata pa tayo?”
Wyatt wanted to reach out to him but he could no longer stand up. “Halika nga rito.”
“No.”
“Goy.”
“Ayoko.”
“Please?”
Miguel shook his head.
“May kailangan akong sabihin.”
“Ikaw pumunta dito.”
“Goy, please, lapit ka—”
“Ayoko nga!” His voice echoed in the quiet house. “Kung may gusto kang sabihin, ikaw pumunta dito.”
Wyatt’s feet felt cold. Numb. He tried wiggling his toes but he couldn’t feel them anymore.
“Kung ito na ‘yun, Wy… Kung ayaw mo na, ikaw lumapit. Sorry pero hindi ko pala kaya.”
“I—” Miguel seemed so far away. “Nasaktan kita, Goy.”
“Wy, please. Ano ‘to? ‘Di na kita naiintindihan, eh.”
Wyatt blinked. He blinked and blinked but Miguel blurred along with the dark hallway outside. “Puta,” he huffed. It hurt his throat. “Puta, Goy. What are we gonna do?” His breaths came in short bursts as a light buzz settled on his skin. His body no longer felt like his own—it hadn’t been his own for a while now. “Ang bata-bata pa natin. Ang bata-bata mo pa—”
“Wyatt?” Miguel sounded muffled. “Wy—okay ka lang? Chag?”
His sobs dug into the spaces between his ribs.
Miguel kneeled in front of him. “Chag, ang lamig-lamig ng mga kamay mo.”
His breath tickled Wyatt’s nose; a small respite he tried to focus. He crumbled anyway.
“May ginawa ka ba? May ginawa ba ako? Ano—?”
“I’m pregnant,” Wyatt said through the cotton and thorns in his mouth. “Chog, buntis ako.”