Archive of Our Own

SHERWIN COLLAPSES INTO his seat with a heavy thud, grimacing as he lands. The cushion does nothing to soften the ache he feels in his joints. He can sense the fever boiling under his skin acutely, rendering his limbs useless, and all he can do is sit there, alone and in pain, in his office at 2 in the morning. 

I should’ve gone home when I still could, he thinks to himself, bitter regret swirling in his stomach. 

He doesn’t know how he’ll be able to get home at this point. He already sent all his staff and personnel home, including his driver. He had been confident that the paracetamol he took earlier would be enough to keep his temperature at bay, but look where that confidence got him. 

Maybe he should have been a bit more selfish today. Maybe he shouldn’t have pitied his assistants for having to work late hours due to his insistence in rechecking every sentence in the committee report. Maybe he should have just listened to the complaints of his old, weary bones and retired for the night. 

“Maybe this is what finally sends me to my deathbed.” He mutters aloud, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the headrest. Deep down, Sherwin knows that it doesn’t matter how many maybes he can think of, nor how heavy the regret he is feeling. He made his own bed, and now he had to lie in it. 

And besides, he no longer wanted to move. The heat inside him feels paralyzing, every little motion sending pain straight into his bones.

No one would mind if I stayed in my office for the night. It’s such a hassle to call for a driver at this time, and there’s only a few hours left until I have to go to work again, anyway. He thinks defeatedly, already accepting his situation. I’ll have to camp here for the time-being. I have a set of clothes in one of the drawers and there’s still medicine left from earlier. Surely this fever will have gone down by—

“Sherwin? Why haven’t you gone home yet?” 

The door to his office creeks open. 

Sherwin turns his head towards the entrance, and when he sees his visitor, he breaks into a small, pained smile. “Risa, hi. I should be asking you the same question. Did you need something?”

Risa’s steps are quick as she walks towards him. With a crease between her brows, she touches the back of her hand to Sherwin’s forehead. She ends up almost hissing at the contact, pulling her hand away with a jolt.

“Ang init mo!” She exclaims, already placing her bag on his office desk and digging for a handkerchief. When she retrieves it, she dabs his forehead and neck gently, angling his head away and back. “Ano ba naman ‘yan, Sherwin. Sinabihan ka na namin na umuwi dahil kanina ka pa nilalagnat. Ni hindi man lang bumaba ang temp mo.”

“I’m fine,” Sherwin says, but Risa only removes his eyeglasses and continues wiping at his face. He lets her. “Nakainom na ako ng gamot. Bakit ka naparito?”

“It’s not important. Come on, get up. Let’s go.”

Sherwin shakes his head. “I said I’m fine. I’ll just stay here until my fever goes down, it shouldn’t be long.”

“You act like such a baby whenever you’re sick.” Risa mutters under her breath. She taps Sherwin’s arms, urging him to get up from the chair, but he only groans in response. 

She frowns at his resistance, pulling his chin towards her. Her tone is non-negotiable when she speaks. “If you think I’m leaving you here alone with a fever of who knows how high, you’re sorely mistaken. Tumayo ka diyan. Ihahatid na kita.”

Sherwin shifts, trying to do as told, but he freezes when another bolt of pain shoots down his spine. 

He squeezes his eyes shut. “I can’t. Seriously, I’ll be fine in a few hours. Umuwi ka na, Ris. Tatawag nalang ako ng taxi.”

Risa sighs, dropping his chin. Instead of agreeing, she places her arms under Sherwin’s, hands planted on his back. She angles herself in front of him and counts to three before hoisting Sherwin upwards until he’s standing on his own two feet. 

Despite the entirety of Sherwin’s trunk pressed against her, she effortlessly retrieves both their bags and positions them sideways, grabbing one of his arms and placing it around her shoulders. Risa then wraps her free arm around his waist.

Sherwin’s head lolls to hers, eyes still shut. 

“We’ll go slowly, okay?” Risa reassures him, worried at how the heat emanating from his body is sinking through her clothes and into her own skin. 

Sherwin needs to have food in his stomach and a comfortable bed to rest on, things that his empty office cannot give him. Simple logic shows that he has to go home, especially now that he has someone to assist him, so he swallows his pride and allows Risa to guide him out of the office. 

The two start their slow trek towards Risa’s car where her driver was already waiting at the nearest exit. A few times, the pair has to stop their progress for Risa to adjust her hold on Sherwin, the latter close to slipping as he leaned more and more of his weight on his shorter companion. Risa genuinely fears that he would collapse before they get to her car, but they manage to arrive safely after her driver steps in to help, having spotted them when they were a few meters away.  

“Salamat, Sir. Buti at nakita niyo kami.” She thanks her driver as they assist Sherwin into the backseat. Once he’s buckled in, Risa enters through the other side of the car, sitting as close to him as the seatbelts allow. Sherwin’s head immediately drops towards her shoulder, beads of cold sweat already forming on his forehead. He hasn’t spoken since they left his office, exhaustion preventing him from using up what little energy he still had.

“Saan po tayo, ma’am? Ospital na po?” Her driver asks, already driving the car out of the premises.

Before Risa can confirm the destination, Sherwin speaks up with great effort.

“No. No hospitals, please,” he croaks with a slight shiver. There’s a committee hearing scheduled tomorrow, or more accurately, later. He and the staff had prepared for weeks; it was the reason why he stayed so late today. He absolutely cannot afford to be absent. “I can rest at home.”

Risa frowns, “Are you sure? Literal na ang init mo, Sherwin. Kailangan mo na yata magpatingin sa—”

Sherwin reaches up shakily and takes a hold of her hand, effectively cutting her off. He gives it a tight squeeze. “I’m sure. My house is nearer, anyway. Please take me there.”

Hesitation is clear in Risa’s face, but Sherwin squeezes her hand again, tighter and imploring, before he lets his hand fall away. It lands on his lap with a soft thump. 

With her lower lip between her teeth, Risa worriedly scans Sherwin’s figure. His eyes are closed again, and if it isn’t for the seatbelt holding him steady, his entire weight would have been slumped on her. But his breathing looks even, and there’s still color to his cheeks. 

“Fine.” She relents, facing the driver, “Sa Makati po tayo, Sir.”

════════

“Fuck.”

Sherwin falls onto his bed, face down and motionless. He feels like a corpse. His fever did not go down in the slightest—he thinks it might have even reached its peak. The chills he experienced when he was still in Risa’s car now gave way to a dull ache in his muscles, and the brightness of the lights did nothing but make his head hurt further. 

He knows he should move. He knows he should get up and at least change out of his clothes, but he can’t be bothered to even open his eyes. Every breath he releases feels warm and there’s a stinging heat behind his eyelids, and he was so, so close to falling asleep. 

Sherwin wouldn’t have made it through his front door and much less his room without Risa’s help. He had collapsed on his living room couch the moment he entered his house. Beside him, Risa was already calling his mother on his behalf, and she had later informed him that she would be arriving in a few minutes.

“I can stay while you wait.” Risa had said, eyes still searching his in worry. 

Sherwin had only given her a quick shake of his head. “It’s nearing 3AM. You should go, Ris. Ingat ka pauwi. Thank you for getting me home.”

After ensuring that he was not in any danger of falling unconscious, Risa had let herself out of the house. Normally, he would accompany her back to her car whenever she visited, but all he could do was mutter another quiet thanks before she was out the door. He had to force himself to hobble towards his room thereafter, practically clinging to the walls, so his mother wouldn’t have a hard time caring for him when she arrived. 

Now that he’s on his bed, the silence of the empty house relaxes him. His alarm clock keeps ticking from his bedside table, its rhythmic beat enticing him to sleep. Sherwin shifts to lying on his back, face up towards the ceiling, and he ignores the itch he feels when the fibers of his barong get caught against his arm hairs. 

I’ll change when Ma arrives, he vows silently. A few moments later, sleep completely pulls him.

════════

There’s someone tugging at his socks. 

Sherwin stirs, trying to pull his leg away. From beside him, a sound of disapproval reaches his ears, so he forces himself to open his eyes despite how groggy he still feels.

“Ma?” He questions aloud, throat dry and parched, but who he sees is not his mother. He sees the woman in the purple dress who had placed his arms around her shoulders and driven him home. 

Fighting against the weakness he stills feels all over his body, he gives her a rueful smile. “Kakaiba na ‘tong lagnat ko ah. Iba na ang nakikita ko.”

The woman gives him a look of confusion. “Ano ba ang nakikita mo?”

“Ikaw,” Sherwin replies, “but you already went home. Sorry Ma, alam kong ikaw ‘yan pero si Risa talaga ang nakikita ko.”

“Risa” grabs a hold of his other leg before pulling the remaining sock away. He doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed by its colorfulness; both Risa and his mother, whoever the woman in front of him is, already knows about his love for vividly colored socks.

His feet now bare, the woman (he still isn’t sure what to call her) straightens up a second later, leaning over and pressing a hand to his forehead before moving back with a frown. 

“Still hot?” He asks. Sherwin doesn’t think anything is different from when he fell asleep. With how warm he is, he almost feels like a human furnace stoked to the highest level. He’s certain he would be as red and flushed as a tomato if he saw himself in a mirror.

“Burning,” she replies, turning and heading out of his room. “I’ll be back in a second. Don’t fall asleep again.”

The woman reappears after a few seconds (or was it minutes, hours? Sherwin’s head feels so foggy), now armed with a variety of things: two round basins, a soap container, and two pairs of towels, along with a tray that held a glass of water and a small container of lugaw. She helps him take a sip of water after she positions the basin and tray on his bedside table. Then, she turns to him, hands on her hips. 

He only stares at her in bewilderment. She quirks a brow in response.

“What?”

“It’s still you.” He remarks, confused. 

She laughs. “It’s always been me.” 

Sherwin knows it’s not. He himself watched as Risa left the house after phoning his mother for him. There was no other explanation other than the fever messing with his head and putting him in some kind of delirium. Nevertheless, despite his own brain knowing that what’s in front of him is not real, he still sees Risa in her purple dress standing there, no matter how many times he blinks.

Sherwin reaches up to rub his eyes. “This is getting creepy, you won’t go away. Are you even my mother or am I just seeing things?”

“I’m not your mom.”

“So I’m seeing things, then.”

“Why do you think you’re seeing things?”

“I read an article once, it said that extreme temperatures can cause delirium.” Sherwin responds, “I must be experiencing one. I saw you leave with my own two eyes, and there’s no way you would stay to care for me.”

Risa shrugs. “Okay, then why are you so talkative? People in delirium are mostly confused and disoriented.” 

“I am confused and disoriented. I’m hallucinating you.”

“Fair enough.” She laughs, and Sherwin feels goosebumps rise on his flesh at how deeply genuine it sounds.

Out of thin air, Risa suddenly produces a pillow and props it behind him. She then hands him a fresh set of clothes, and if she weren’t a hallucination, he would ask her how she knew where to locate them from the many cabinets in his room, a place she’d never been in. More importantly, he’d ask her how she knew that they were the type of clothes he preferred to sleep in—just a pair of boxer shorts and a simple white cotton shirt. 

But Sherwin knows these questions are useless and better left unasked. Regardless, the whole situation is just a product of his high fever; it’s just his brain trying to give him what he wants to see while he’s in a compromised state. It made sense that the fake Risa knew all those things, having been created from his own thoughts and knowledge. 

Risa points to the door leading to his bathroom. “Can you stand? You have to go wash, maybe a half-bath at least. It’ll help cool you down faster.”

Sherwin tries to move his legs, but a frown graces his lips when his knees suddenly throb in protest. His knees were acting up a lot lately, especially after he started attending a running club three months ago. He tries to move his legs again but to no avail, so he brings his eyes back to her, shaking his head.

Risa bites her lip in contemplation. Hesitantly, she takes a half-step towards him, hands clasped in front of her stomach. There’s a slight quiver in her voice when she asks her next question. “Are you okay with me giving you a sponge bath?”

“This is a hallucination, anyway.” He replies, a wry smile on his lips. “This sort of thing doesn’t happen every day. It probably won’t ever happen at all, so I’m all for it. That is, if you’re okay with giving me one.”

She nods, and then the two are suddenly in close contact as Risa aids him in taking off his barong and slacks. They struggle considerably since pain still erupted at even the slightest movement of his limbs, and Sherwin has half a mind to scold his own brain.

Hindi na nga ‘to totoo, ‘di pa pinalampas ang sakit. Grabe ang pagiging realistic, ha. 

When they finally manage to free him of the restrictive garments, Sherwin is left in a white undershirt and boxers. Risa blushes at the sight, already averting her gaze away, and Sherwin has to remind himself that she isn’t the real thing. 

“You’re blushing.” Sherwin says instead, and she flushes even more. He grins despite himself at the sight of her cute glare, “I kind of like being in delirium, if only because I get to see you like this.”

Rather than responding to his quips, Risa starts preparing for the sponge bath. She pours a small amount of liquid soap into the basin before soaking one of the towels in it, subsequently wringing it with both hands. Gently, she glides it across his scalp and hair, ridding him of the remnants of cold sweat. She then takes another towel, this time soaking it in the second basin with lukewarm water, and then using it to wipe away the soapy water on his head. 

Sherwin observes her silently, eyes intently trained on her as she repeats her actions, carefully wiping his face and neck, and then his arms. Although his heightened sensitivity makes him occasionally wince when the towel’s rough texture scratches against his flesh, he never strays his gaze away from her face. He wants to remember every bit of this hallucination, wants it committed to his memory exactly as he sees it, just so he could retrieve it from his mind and replay it when it’s all over.

Risa gives him reprieve after she finishes wiping his arms, grabbing the previous towel she used and soaking it back into the first basin. After squeezing most of the bubbly water out, she holds the towel awkwardly with both hands. She meets his eyes thereafter, embarrassment clear in them.

“What is it?” Sherwin questions. “Are we finished?”

Her response is made through a barely audible mumble. “You have to lift your shirt, I need to wipe your chest and back next.”

A small chuckle escapes him. He still can’t get over how the entire thing felt too real. Sherwin genuinely believes that the reactions of the imaginary Risa would be similar to those of the real Risa, if the latter was the one present. He isn’t entirely sure if he likes what this says about him—the fact that he knew her so well he’s able to imagine her so realistically like this, or the fact that he’s spent countless times thinking of her in a more personal light, to the point that she appears in his deliriums.

Slowly, Sherwin sits up on the bed and removes his shirt. Risa no longer aids him this time, and he has to pull with more force than usual for it to come off. When it finally does, he folds the shirt and neatly lays it beside the basins, subsequently looking up expectantly at his imaginary companion. 

She doesn’t look back at him at all, not even when she has to lean in closer to glide the towel across his chest and abdomen. She does the same thing using the second towel, before repeating the entire process of wiping and rinsing on the expanse of his back. 

When she smooths the towel over his shoulder blades, Sherwin has to bite his lip to stop himself from letting out a groan of relief. Despite this whole thing being false, he still keenly feels the tension leaving his body, heat quickly dissipating as his muscles relaxed from their previous strain.   

“Good?” Risa says when she finishes, helping him change into the fresh shirt she’d given him earlier. Sherwin nods at her with a thankful smile. She then helps him lay back down before once again performing the sponge bath, this time on his lower extremities. 

All the while, she keeps her face neutral and turned away from his groin, and she performs the bath quicker than she probably should, but Sherwin doesn’t mind. He already thinks himself blessed for having this kind of delirium. Out of all things he could be seeing, his brain decides to imagine the one thing that would never come true in his life as a 52-year-old bachelor. Sherwin has long given up trying to experience the bedside care of a romantic partner—the care of Risa, if he’s being more specific.

After she finishes the bath, Risa exits the room with the basins and towels, and he takes the chance to change into clean undergarments as quickly as he is able. She comes back not too long after, right when Sherwin is close to dozing off again, his teeth chattering occasionally even with the sheets covering him from neck down.

“Not yet,” she says with a tap to his shoulder. “You need to eat and drink medicine again. Come on, up you go.”

“I don’t have any appetite.” He argues weakly, but he’s already sitting up on the bed obediently. 

“Hindi mo naman kailangan ubusin. All you have to do is take a few bites.”

Risa grabs the bowl of lugaw off the table, touching it lightly against the back of her hand, and nods in satisfaction when she finds the temperature still warm enough. She then drags a chair—Sherwin’s already too comfortable with the delirium to bother thinking about how it materialized out of nowhere—and places it near his bed before sitting on it, arms already poised in preparation to feed him.

“Spoon-feed mo talaga ako?” He says, a laugh bubbling in his throat. He has to applaud his own brain at this point. This delirium isn’t holding anything back, Sherwin muses, might as well have myself experience everything now. 

Risa brushes off his question with a nonchalant shrug. “You said you had no appetite, didn’t you? It’s only to make sure that you really eat.”

She scoops a generous amount of rice, bringing it to his lips before he can protest. Once it hits his tongue, Sherwin’s chewing is slow and automatic, the warmth of the meal making up for its intentional lack of flavor. He repeats chewing and swallowing with sips of water in between, and before he knows it, half of the lugaw is gone, his stomach now adequately filled. 

“If this isn’t a delirium, then this is most definitely a dream.” Sherwin mutters when Risa helps him ease backwards, guiding his head towards the pillow after she administers his pill.

“Why a dream?” 

“Because you’re doing all the things I wish you’d do.”

Risa sits back down on the chair, facing him. Although her voice carries a curious tone, the expression on her face is strangely knowing. “What do you mean?”

“I want you here caring for me whenever I’m sick, just like this. Gusto ko magpa-baby sa’yo.” He says bluntly.

Risa laughs at his delirium-induced candor. She fixes the white comforter over his figure, flashing him a small smile. “Wish granted then. Since I’m just a hallucination, you can tell me to do anything. What’s next?”

“I want to hold your hand.”

Without a word of protest, she slips her hands into his. 

It feels warm and real and life-like, but its blurred, almost translucent edges betray its authenticity. Sherwin takes her hands and intertwines his fingers with hers, uncaring. When else would he be able to hold Risa’s hands outside of handshakes? 

He takes a few minutes to enjoy the feel of her hands in his, sliding the pads of his fingers over hers, circling her palm and tracing the lines with unmasked adoration. If a choice to forever live in this delirium is presented to him right at this moment, he knows he wouldn’t have a hard time immediately saying yes and taking it.

Sherwin clears his throat, mouth parting to reveal a confession. “You know, last month, when they were taking pictures of the senators with their spouses, I didn’t feel sad like I normally do.” 

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“Because you were with me.” He admits, emboldened by the fact that the Risa beside him isn’t the real deal. Confessing in reality would just bring a huge mess into their already confusing relationship. At least here, in the safety of his own imagination, Risa would not be able to run away, nor would he suffer the consequences of expressing years of hidden feelings. “Who cares about some stupid photograph? I had you by my side the whole night, and we were laughing despite being the only ones with no partner around. It was a good night.”  

“It was,” Risa agrees. She is silent for a few moments, seemingly lost in how his fingers are softly dancing across her palm. “I was thankful you were beside me, too. I didn’t feel alone as much as I would have.”

Sherwin smiles, convinced. This really is just a delusion. In reality, Risa and him never talked about their being single, even putting great effort into never bringing up that aspect of their lives. Others may have thought that they bonded over it, but they haven’t. Quite the opposite, actually. 

It was their lack of love interests that placed them behind a huge wall, a boundary that they could never cross unless they wanted to risk ruining what they had. Both the personal and professional repercussions of opening the vault to his longing were too daunting for him to even entertain the thought of unlocking it. So he keeps his yearning there, along with every stolen glance and shared smile, sealed shut and collecting dust. 

And Sherwin was a coward. He had been for the past ten years, and he probably would continue to be even when he retires from politics. He was frightened of stepping out of bounds, of erasing that line in the sand and revealing what he truly felt for his fellow senator. Not because he was scared of showing her the most vulnerable parts of him, but because he was scared of receiving her rejection. Sherwin knew, even if he was loath to admit it, that Risa didn’t reciprocate his feelings.

“Out of all people, why are you hallucinating me, Sherwin?”

Sherwin shrugs, already knowing the answer. He decides to be honest. After all, none of this is real.

“Because I love you.” 

He answers as if merely commenting about the weather, like the revelation is a truth already universally known, “I think about you every single day, have been for the past ten years. I’m so in love with the entirety of you—your intelligence and tenacity and bravery, how you never fail to see the good in others. How fiercely protective you are, especially of your own people. And you’re beautiful, so, so beautiful, that sometimes you make my heart ache with a single glance. 

“Out of everyone I could be hallucinating, I’m seeing you because you have wholly occupied my head and my heart. Sa’yo lang ako, Risa. I’m so full of you that there’s simply no room for anyone else.”

The air around them is thick with the weight of his admission. Sherwin continues to observe Risa, how the fragility of his illusion is making her appear almost ghostly in visage. Still, he sees a hint of a smile on her lips, and her hands are still firmly clutched in his. 

He doesn’t want the moment to end too quickly, not when he knows there won’t be a next time, so he’s already moving his mouth to speak more of his hidden truths. “Do you know why I’m still a bachelor at this old age?” 

When she responds, she looks straight into his eyes, pinning him with her gaze. Her voice is as resolute as a final conviction. “Because you’re waiting for me.”

Sherwin nods once. He heaves a deep breath, staring at Risa with equal intensity. “Is it that obvious? Even my hallucination of you knows the truth.”

“It’s all in your eyes,” is her simple reply. 

And isn’t that the truth, unblemished and bare? How many times has he searched for her in crowded rooms? How many times has he been caught staring at her by their colleagues? How many times has he looked away from her, not out of desire but out of necessity, because the affection he held for her was practically dripping from every glimpse he sent her way?

The locked vault is useless, Sherwin muses to himself, when even my own eyes betray me.

“You’re being very stupid, you know?” Risa says, eyes now back at their intertwined hands. Her voice has become disembodied, almost slurred. “You’re waiting for nothing. She would never give in, and neither would you. None of you is willing to break first.”

“Wala akong pakialam. If I have to die as a bachelor, so be it.” Sherwin tells her. Gently, he urges her to come closer, tugging at her hands. Risa shifts until she’s leaning over him on the bed, until he can feel her warm breath fanning his face. He stares into her eyes deeply, finding himself clearly reflected back in them, and for the umpteenth time Sherwin has to warn himself of the nature of the situation. 

This isn’t real, Sherwin, he says in his head, but he can’t stop himself from leaning closer.

“Ayokong hindi siya. Ayokong hindi ikaw, Risa.”

The distance between their faces grows shorter and shorter, both their breathing slowly becoming labored. Sherwin’s eyes flick towards her lips, perfectly pink and already parted in anticipation.

“Ang tapang mo dahil hallucination lang to,” Risa whispers, “You can’t even invite me for snacks without stuttering.”

If he leans any more closer, her lips would land on his. Sherwin swallows thickly, throat suddenly dry. Her mouth is only just a hair’s breadth away and both their lips are already puckered up, but just before he could finally press his lips into hers, Risa turns her head away at the last second. Sherwin blinks, dumbfounded, as she presses a gentle kiss to his cheek instead. 

It’s soft and lingering and unhurried, carrying the promise of three words he wishes they exchanged in real life.

“Just because this isn’t true doesn’t mean you get everything you want.” She speaks into his ear, tone low and hushed, “And besides, you’re sick. You don’t want me catching your virus, yes?”

Risa straightens, fixing her posture and sitting more securely on the chair. The smile on her face is wide when she sees the stunned expression still on his face, “You have to rest now. I’m sure you’re going to have a busy day tomorrow.”

Sherwin only stares at her, feeling betrayed. His mouth is still puckered up and waiting for a kiss, and Risa giggles at how ridiculous he looks. He pouts as he says his protests. “Hindi mo talaga ako pagbibigyan? Hallucination na nga lang ‘to! ‘Di ka naman magkakasakit—”

“Ikaw ang bigay ng Maykapal,” Risa starts to sing, and Sherwin immediately clamps his mouth shut. The low register of her voice slides over him and dances in his ears. “Tugon sa aking dasal, upang sa lahat ng panahon, bawa't pagkakataon, ang ibigin ko'y ikaw…”

Sherwin settles down, a content smile making the objections die on his lips. A lullaby from Risa with him as the sole audience is almost as good as a kiss. He’ll take anything he is given, as long as it’s from her.

Risa continues singing her song, and every note embeds deep into Sherwin’s heart. If he still had any space left to spare, it would surely be gone by now. He is all Risa’s, every bit of space in his body proudly etched with her name, every piece of his soul reflecting back an image of her. 

It doesn’t matter if this isn’t real, Sherwin thinks to himself, eyes closing as Risa’s voice slowly lulls him to sleep. He thinks of ardent stares and lingering glances, of hesitant touches and shy smiles, and he buries them all into the locked vault within him, promising to never let it see the light of day. 

This is enough for me. I won’t be selfish. 

“… kulang ang magpakailan pa man, upang bawat sandali ay, upang muli't muli ay, ang mahalin ay ikaw.”

By the time Risa finishes her song, Sherwin is already fast asleep.

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The view that greets Sherwin doesn’t shock him.

There’s no chair by his bed, nor is there a tray with a bowl of lugaw on his bedside table. Most of all, there’s no lady in a purple dress clutching his hands and singing him lullabies. There’s only his empty room, now illuminated by the early sunlight streaming in from his windows.

Sherwin rolls his shoulders as he stands up, tamping down the disappointment he feels in his guts. He can’t help but foolishly hope that the same delirium happens the next time he suffers a fever. Without a doubt, Sherwin would willingly plunge himself into a burning fever a hundred times more if it meant he would once again experience Risa caring for him. 

“Maybe next time I’ll hallucinate us kissing,” he mumbles, and his ears burn when he registers the Freudian slip. 

Sherwin shakes his head to rid himself of such thoughts, grabbing his towel and heading to the bathroom for a shower. With an arm outstretched, he’s about to open the bathroom door when his movements abruptly stop short, fueled by a sudden awareness.

Furrowing his brows, Sherwin looks down and realizes that he’s wearing the same attire from his delirious episode: a white shirt and black boxer shorts. Cautiously, he pinches the fabric of the cotton shirt between his fingertips, trying to remember how he came to change out of his work clothes the night before. If there’s one thing certain during the mind-bending hallucination he had last night, it is that he went to bed in his barong and slacks. He never even took off his socks.

Did I change myself and just forgot about it? Or perhaps Ma did come by and I was indeed seeing her as Risa?

Frowning, Sherwin slings the bath towel around his shoulders and grabs his phone off the bed. There’s no need to panic, he thinks, but his heart rate is already steadily climbing up despite his attempt to stay calm. He quickly dials his mother’s number, fingers almost slipping on the screen with how fast he’s tapping, and it isn’t until the third ring that she answers.

“Good morning, anak.” She says, voice worried, “I was waiting for your call. How are you? Is your fever gone?"

“Yes, I’m fine now.” Sherwin says in a rush. “Ma, listen, did you really come by last night?”

“What? I’m in Cebu with your father for a stockholder’s meeting, remember?”

“Ah yes, that was today?”

“Yesterday, that’s why I couldn’t come to Makati last night.” 

Sherwin paces back and forth at the information, hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose as his mother continues to speak. Blood is starting to rush in his ears now, and his breathing is beginning to sound like he just came from a run. 

“Okay ka lang ba, anak? What’s wrong?”

“Wala po kayo rito kahapon? So sinong nagpalit—” Sherwin cuts himself off. Determined, he stalks towards his kitchen and opens the cabinets and cupboards, eyes intently scanning each shelf and drawer, but he ends up seeing nothing in disarray. He’s on his way to inspect the fridge next when he sees it. 

A half-empty bowl of lugaw, sitting at the far corner of the countertop. 

Sherwin stares at it, dumbstruck.

“Sherwin? What is it?” His mother’s voice echoes from the phone after seconds of tense silence from Sherwin.

“Tinawagan po ba kayo ni Risa kagabi?” He asks, and he finds that he’s hesitant to say it aloud. His question could be answered with a simple yes or no, but the plainness of the response didn’t translate into their outcome. Whichever one-syllable reply he receives, it would solely dictate everything—from the repercussions of last night’s episode down to the consequent actions he will have to make after this phone call.  

“Yes, she did. I told her I couldn’t go there since I’m out of town, so I asked if she could stay for a while just to make sure you were alright.” 

Sherwin feels like suffocating, his throat closing up with anxiety. His head spins as memories of last night flit over his head. Everything that happened was real. The sponge bath, the lullaby, the almost kiss. 

Sherwin bites his lip harshly, not knowing how to react. He has to force himself to say goodbye to his mother after making up an excuse about having to get ready for work, but when he ends the call, all he can do is stand there in the middle of the kitchen, hands limp at his sides. His heart is thundering inside his chest, and his eyes are unfocused as if he’s in the middle of daydreaming.

She knows. She heard everything and tried to play it off as mere hallucination. She spoon-fed me and gave me a damn sponge bath. She’s seen me in my fucking boxers.

Sherwin's heart stops.

I told her I loved her.  

Hands shaking, Sherwin pulls up Risa’s contact number. He decides to send her a text before he’s fully paralyzed with fear, just a simple five-word sentence that will tell her that he knows the truth.

Nakalimutan mong itapon ang lugaw.

Sherwin watches intently as the indicator that she has read the text shows up on the screen. He has to suffer through the agonizing appearance and disappearance of the three-dotted sticker as she types and erases her reply. And then, after a few minutes of that excruciating back and forth, nothing. His message remains the only thing on the screen. 

She left him on read.

Before he can register what he’s doing, Sherwin’s already tapping the call button. The phone rings once, twice, and by the sixth ring, Risa answers just before he loses hope and ends the call.

“Sherwin—“

“It was you last night.” He cuts her off in a rush, giving neither of them a chance to walk away.

Sherwin thinks she might deny it or even retaliate with something defensive, but her tone is as serene as ever when she replies. “I told you it was.”

“Yes, but then you also told me you were a hallucination.”

Risa is silent on the other line for a few moments, and all the while Sherwin feels his pulse beating loudly in his ears. Every bit of him is screaming to run, to backtrack and say that they both should just forget about last night, but every thump of his heart also feels like a hammer against the locked vault. Sherwin can feel it splintering into a thousand pieces, each proof of his yearning spilling out for everyone to see.

It no longer mattered how deep he had buried it, the vault was already broken beyond repair. 

After what seems like forever, Risa lets out a deep sigh, and Sherwin knows she is finally yielding. There is simply no way out of this. Now that everything’s out in the open, it was the best time for them to face the tangled mess of feelings between them.

“Yes, I did.” She says, voice low and slightly unsure, “I’m sorry, I thought it would be best if you thought it wasn’t true.”

“But it is true, along with everything that happened.” He replies. 

Sherwin knows that he may scare her away if he continues, but the words come pouring out of him in waves. He’s already in deep water with neither a paddle nor a vest, but ever since she’d kissed his cheek and caressed his hands, he has slowly learned not to fear the tides nor fight it, but to welcome and embrace it instead.

I don’t want to be a coward anymore.

“I told myself I wouldn’t be selfish, that having just that one moment with you was enough. Pero tangina—” Sherwin’s voice breaks, “hindi ko mapigilan ang sarili ko, Risa. Hindi ko kayang hindi ikaw. Pasensya na, pero hindi ko na kayang magpanggap na kaibigan lang ang turing ko sa’yo.” 

There’s only static on the other line. Sherwin swallows, feeling like his heart is going to burst any second. He fights against the tremor in his voice as he continues speaking, “I don’t want you to feel burdened about what I said last night, but I also want you to know that I meant every single word. I love you, Risa. No matter how this ends, I always will.”

Risa breathes out shakily. The whole time she says nothing, Sherwin feels like the world has gone still. Hundreds of thoughts whirl around his head, overthinking everything that he had just said and all the possible reactions Risa could give him. He half-expects her to outright reject him, citing their professional responsibilities as the reason, but the other half of him also holds on to hope that maybe, just maybe, even a little part of her also felt something for him. Anything. He’ll take anything she feels for him at this point, as long as it was not nothing. 

When Risa finally speaks, Sherwin swears he stops breathing. 

“Sherwin, I honestly don’t know what to say.” She says, and when her voice trembles, Sherwin feels a spark of uncertainty light up in him, “I’m frightened of talking about this, of diving headfirst into something we both pretend isn’t there. We’ve been ignoring this thing between us for years, and maybe that’s the reason why I tried to hide the reality of what happened last night. Sherwin, alam kong alam mo rin na ang dami nating kailangang pag-isipan bago natin ‘to simulan.”

Her voice is thick with all the emotions plaguing her, a mix of fear and hope and gratitude. Sherwin would give absolutely anything to be able to see her face right now, to have even the slightest inkling of her thoughts. Even just one glimpse would be enough to inform him what to do next. 

He waits with bated breath as Risa pauses, trying to find her words. 

“If we are really going to start this,” she continues, “then I want to start it right. I’m sure you do, too, but I don’t think either of us have the capacity to do that through a phone call.”

“You… you want to start this?” Sherwin repeats. His hand grips his phone tighter, unsure if he heard her right.

A beat passes. And then, “Yes.”

Sherwin staggers backwards at her answer, his hip almost colliding against the kitchen counter. He feels a rush of energy fill his veins, making every movement he makes come out jerky and crude as if he has suddenly lost control of his limbs. He’s still at a loss for words when Risa speaks again.

“Let’s give it a day, yes? Or even just a few hours. Let’s first calm down and figure out what we really want from each other. Will you be alright with that?” 

Sherwin nods although she can’t see it. The smile that has appeared on his face is full-blown, gums showing with how wide it is. “I understand. Of course it’s alright with me.”

It’s definitely not a rejection, he thinks, trying to find his composure even as his stomach feels like it’s suddenly filled with all kinds of butterflies—no, if he’s being more accurate, it feels like there’s a whole zoo inside him.

He hears shuffling on the other end, and then Risa’s voice reaches his ears again, “Before I let you go, Sherwin…  I want you to know that I’m on the same page as you so—“ she clears her throat, sounding embarrassed, “so you don’t have to worry.”

If Sherwin could fly, he would definitely be pressed against his ceiling right now. All his anxiety had disappeared, leaving behind only feelings of bliss and ecstasy. God, he was so happy he felt like squealing and giggling. It didn’t matter if he looked like a school boy with a crush. Unlike what he expected and what he considered as true, his love was not unrequited, and this fact alone is reason enough for him to celebrate like a teenager. 

“Oh, and Sherwin?” Risa says just before the call ends.

He can’t keep the giddiness away from his tone. “Yes, Risa?” 

“The next time you get sick, make sure to change out of your barong first, yes? It was a nightmare taking it off.” 

A flashback of her struggling to remove his barong shows up in his head, along with the blush painting her cheeks when she had to practically climb on the bed to get it off him.  

Sherwin chuckles, deciding to tease her right back, “Only if you promise to sing me a lullaby first.”

Her amused laugh dances in his ears the same way it did last night. When she ends the call, Sherwin bites his lip to stop himself from shouting in joy. Instead, he leaps and runs around the kitchen, pumping his fists in celebration, until one particular jump makes a sharp pain erupt in one of his knees.

Sherwin stumbles and almost keels over, but instead of dampening his mood, he finds that he feels strangely invigorated by the pain instead. Grinning, he leans on the countertop and gives his knees an affectionate tap.

After all, for all that has happened and will happen later, he only has his old bones to thank.