CRISPY PUTA

José looked closely and gave a startled laugh. “Ninong José? Ah! Sorry, sorry po.” he quickly went out to open the gate and ushered the visitor in. “Kelan po ba kayo dumating?” José pushed all the miscellaneous debris from random Christmas decorations on top of the coffee table to the side, to make the living room more presentable.

“Kahapon lang. It was a sudden thing. Family matters. I will stay here for several weeks.” he looked around “Si Joven? Nasaan siya?”

“Ah, sandali lang, tatawagin ko siya!” José said going towards the direction of the stairs, careful not to trip on a box of tinsel.

“Jovito? Jovito?” he knocked “Buksan mo, si Ninong José mo nandiyan sa baba.”

A lock clicked open, and the door opened a fraction for Joven to peer out. “Ano ‘yun kuya?” he asked.

“Si Ninong José mo nasa baba!” José said excitedly. “Baba ka, bilis!”

Joven closed the door again, rummaged for a shirt and went down.

“Ninong José?” he called out from the landing. “Ikaw ba yan?”

Alejandrino looked up, and saw a lanky boy, all sharp elbows and shoulders. “Joven? Joven? It’s me, your ninong!” he opened his arms and Joven rushed to them. His ninong smelled like sandalwood and citrus, and of everything that was not Manila, clean and cool, just like the contents of the numerous boxes that he had sent all these years.  Alejandrino hugged him fiercely, declaring “Oh my god, you’re so tall now! You’ll be as tall as Fred one day.” Alejandrino held both his arms turning him this way and that, “None of Tess. None at all. Except for that mouth. Ngiti ka nga.” Joven gave a shy smile. “Haha, oo! ’Yan lang nakuha mo kay Tess. Pero diyan na in-love ang papa mo sa kanya. She had the most beautiful smile. Fred used to wait for her to pass by the cafeteria every day."

Joven laughed, the first time in months. “Sobrang surprise to ninong. Saan ka magse-stay? Hanggang kailan ka dito?”

“I’ve been messaging you! Pero no response, so I said to myself, ‘hay busy lang yun, alam mo na teenager.’ I’m staying at a kumpare’s condo. A few weeks, I’ll leave maybe before or after Christmas. If there are a lot of things that I need to do, maybe even after New Year. Thank you hijo,” he nodded gratefully at José, who placed a glass of iced tea in front of him, “Pero since I’m here, I wanted to visit you. Your uncles wanted me to check on you as well.”

“Okay naman po ako.” he said softly. Alejandrino peered at him. “Are you sure? You look like you’ve been sick.” His eyes rested on Joven, the bruised skin under his eyes, the hounded look and the sharp jut of collarbones. “I don’t think you’re.. okay.”

“Ah, it’s my exams and I, uh, need to look for a college na for next year.” A lie. He hadn’t even touched any of the stack of college forms that Manuel had gotten for him.

Alejandrino nodded, but kept his eyes on Joven. “Sige, sige. Which college will you go to? What course? Do you need me to help you? Ah, pero,” seeing the panicked look on Joven “we don’t need to talk about now.” He patted Joven’s knee. “Tell me everything that you’ve been doing. Your ninong needs to know. Your school, what you do in your free time, your brothers, your friends,” and playfully, “your girlfriends.”

Joven told his ninong everything that he wanted to know. And nothing that he should’ve needed to know.

Joven, distracted by the excitement of the arrival of his godfather, slowly started eating again, much to Manuel and José’s relief. Though his ninong’s presence also meant that he was always out of the house because Alejandrino took him to his visits to his friends (“Si Joven, anak ni Fred and Tess!” “Talaga? Diyos ko, give your tita a kiss, I was good friends with your parents!”), it was better than Joven slowly starving himself to death inside his room.

For Joven, his ninong's arrival was a godsend. It stamped out any chances that he would see Paco (and Jules), and at the same time opened a new vista of people that were blissfully Paco-free. He made new friends his age, sons and daughters of his uncles’ and ninong's varied and well-connected friends. He started caring about his appearance again, seeing them trendily-dressed in gatherings. He fretted over his old clothes and threw some of them away. Gone were the cutesy Artwork t-shirts that populated his closet. He took to wearing plaid button downs and short sleeved polo shirts.

"Uy preppy!" his Kuya José teased, while Joven fixed the collar of his Fred Perry shirt. He was waiting for his Ninong José to pick him up. Manuel swatted José, and reached out to fix Joven's collar himself. "Ignore mo ‘yang kuya mo. Bagay sa ‘yo ‘yan, mukhang disente. Hinde ‘yung mahal na t-shirt pero may butas yung kwelyo." ("Hey!" José protested "American Eagle Outfitters kaya ‘yon!")

At one of those numerous dinners, someone suddenly reached out across him on the table and pushed a plate overflowing with sauteed baby potatoes and tenderloin tips. “Eat.” the boy commanded “Ang payat mo.” Joven looked at him in dumb surprise. “Hindi ako gano’n ka-gutom.”

The boy laughed, his eyes crinkling. “Hindi ko naman tinatanong kung gutom ka.” He pushed the plate again. “Sinasabi ko sa ‘yo na kumain ka.”

Miguel Cervantes (“Yes, like the playwright. My parents are nerds.”) Perez was a son of his ninong’s acquaintances. He was in the same year as Joven but had the carriage of someone older. He didn’t bluster or whine like boys their age. He walked with the confidence of an adult, grown, someone who knew what he wanted and how he could get it. He told, he didn’t ask. “Joven, I know you’re named José Vicente, but I will call you Joven, just like how Tito José calls you.” he took the glass of soda that Joven held in his hands. “Joven, let’s go somewhere else. Inaantok nako dito.” He inclined his head towards the door. “Samahan mo ‘ko.”

Joven was at a loss. He didn’t know if he should (or if he could) go somewhere with this cocksure boy that he’d barely known for an hour. Visions of that disastrous party and Andrew nearly pummeling him made him extra wary of male interactions that might be construed as something else. “I’ll ask Ninong José? Baka mag-alala siya if bigla akong mawala.”

“He already knows. ‘Pag dating mo kanina sabi ko sa kanya na kakaibiganin kita.” he twirled his car keys on his fingers. “It’s alright, kilala ni Tito José parents ko. Magda-drive lang talaga tayo.”

They drove lazily around Paranaque in Miguel’s gray Hyundai Tucson. He pointed out childhood spots and restaurants, with an occasional odd trivia thrown in (“Diyan yung sa Vizconde, sabi ng mga guards ng village nagpaparamdam pa rin sila”, “Sila Joey Marquez diyan nakatira.”). Joven was cautious at first, answering only in monosyllables. But Miguel’s forthright manner yet gentlemanly respect of personal space made Joven feel a little bit more comfortable. After a few minutes, he started responding in earnest. “This is the first time I’ve seen Ninong José. I grew up with my brothers in Pasig and not with my uncles in France.” he found himself volunteering “Saang high school ka? Do you have siblings?”

“Sa Zobel ako. I have a younger sister, ” he said, while parking the car “Coffee muna tayo, I know just the place.”

Over small cups of too-rich coffee, they told each other stories. Miguel’s parents and friends. Joven’s life and his interests. Joven found himself slowly taking a liking this strange boy, with his blunt commands. For anyone else, it would’ve been the mark of being terribly spoilt. He somehow made it personal and sincere. Joven was enthralled.

They drove back, returning home before midnight. Just in time, as Ninong José was about to message him that they were leaving.

“Let’s go Joven, our ride is here,” and to Miguel, “Thanks for keeping my inaanak company hijo. Thank your parents again for the wonderful time.”

“You’re welcome Tito. And it’s alright. Joven and I are good friends now.” he glanced at Joven, mouth tilting up. Huh, Joven thought. I didn’t even think of Paco the whole day.

Joven thought nothing about that night---his mind was a complete blank, neither giddy about Migs nor extremely lethargic over Paco---until he received a cryptic text message a few days later.

Samahan mo ko mag-drive. 

Who’s this?

I’m your new good friend. ;)

Joven was sitting on the dining table, a rare day that his Ninong José had chosen to do some errands on his own. He was eating his dinner alone, after giving a vague excuse about doing something else earlier. His soup was cold. Outside, in the garage, he heard Paco tell a story about how Joem chased a small terrier halfway through Tiendesitas. Joven knew that story. He was there when it happened. If he joined them there, right now, he could tell some parts of the story that Kuya Paco might have missed. He heard Jules laugh, though. So he stayed where he was.

He looked down at his phone. And before he could think twice about it, typed, 

The door creaked open slowly, Paco’s head poking in. “Jovito?” he whispered, “uuwi na kami.”

“Love, tulog na ‘ata siya,” a female voice in the hallway. Jules. “Huwag mo nang gisingin, kawawa naman, siya daw nag-prepare ng birthday dinner ni Manuel.”

Paco closed the door, but not before Joven heard him say, “Ayaw ko lang kasi na umuwi na hindi siya nakikita. Para kasing malungkot siya kanina.”

Joven shut his eyes and ignored them both.

With Jules back in Manila (“Permanently, I think.” his Kuya Manuel said over breakfast) Paco’s visits became less frequent. When once he was a semi-permanent fixture in the Bernal living room (“Iparenta na kaya natin kay Kuya Paco yung sofa? Parang sa bedspacer?” “Joselito!”), he now visited once weekly at most, and only with Jules in tow. Everyone else saw nothing untoward or strange in this. Paco and Jules had been apart for so long, it was only be natural that they spend time together. Of course, the days that he visited with Jules would be the same days that Joven’s illness would suspiciously reappear and he would have to keep to his room. 

Joven mostly slept, for the waking world brought on heartache. He’d sleep so much that the skin on his scalp and the limbs that he was resting on would grow numb. Food held no interest for him, nor anything for that matter. Every song was painful, every movie a recollection that he’d rather not have. He paid so little attention at school that one of his friends took him aside to ask him if he was on medication. The illegal kind.

He'd cry at the most random places. He didn't know what he was crying about. Was it Paco? Was it him and Jules? Was it the dull ache on his heart that never seemed to go away? Was it even anything at all? The tears sparked his self-loathing; he felt ridiculous and embarrassed at his helplessness.

José gave up on calling him down for dinner. He started putting Joven’s meals in microwaveable containers, but grew furious when they all remained untouched. “Hoy, Jovito, papatayin mo ba sarili mo! Kumain ka nga dito sa baba.” Joven threw a pillow over his head, ignored him and went back to sleep.

After more than a week of this routine, José brought out the big guns. This time, it was Manuel who came to Joven’s room, grim-faced.

“Joven, gumising ka diyan. Ang tagal mo nang puro tulog.” He snatched the blanket from Joven’s head. “Get up.”

Joven sat up on his bed, back to the wall. His eyes were bloodshot and his lip was bleeding from where it had cracked.

“I expect this kind of thing sa kuya mo. Pero ikaw Joven? Hinde. Hindi ka kumakain, palagi ka lang natutulog o kaya tulala.” Manuel spoke, hands on his hips, forehead furrowed. “Ano bang nangyayari sayo? Binubully ka ba sa school? May problema ka ba na hindi mo sinasabi? Nagwoworry na kami ng kuya mo. Anong gusto mong gawin namin para sa ‘yo?”

Joven stared on, silent, and chewed on the dried piece of skin of his lower lip. Finally, he said “Kuya, masama pakiramdam ko. Gusto ko lang matulog.”

Manuel shook his head and left his room. After that, he took to bringing food up to Joven on a tray and watching him gulp down a few spoonfuls of soup before Joven begged for sleep.

Once, Paco came up to his room and sat on the foot of his bed. “Magaling ka na ba? Halika, punta na tayo sa doctor.” he urged. Joven just turned on his side and resolutely stared at the wall. Paco sighed and reaching out to squeeze his ankle, left. Joven took to locking his room after that.

But Paco persisted, deaf to Manuel’s murmured instructions to give Joven some peace. He’d  invite Joven numerous times to out-of town-weekends with him and Jules: Tagaytay, Calaguas, Palawan, Bohol. Telling him that Jules had generously offered to pay for his fare and accommodation, that he need not worry. Joven declined all of them. He’d leave food, to tempt Joven's appetite into eating; platefuls of fettuccine, siomai, cheese pizza, tubs of gelato. Joven left them all inside the refrigerator to spoil before his kuyas could eat them for him.

In a fit of pique and loneliness, he texted Goyong. José’s friend was mostly politely apathetic towards anything that concerned Paco, or even Joven for that matter. Joven wanted to talk someone familiar, but without the threat of Paco’s name looming up in the conversation.

“Hey.” he typed.

After a few seconds, his phone buzzed.

“Oi.” and then “Musta di na kita nakikita?”

“Nagkasakit lang.” His stomach grumbled. His hands were on the keypad, labas tayo, nagugutom ako. He wanted to type. But going out meant rising up from bed and facing too many things that would remind him of Paco. In the end, he decided against it and locked his screen. He tucked it back under his pillow and slept, ignoring the insistent buzzing.

Weeks passed and Joven wasted away. His shirts started hanging loosely on his frame, and he couldn’t even gather the strength to walk up a flight of stairs. He felt dizzy and couldn’t keep down his food. After a particularly bad bout of crying his chest hurt so badly that he had to knock on his Kuya José’s door for help. The feigned illness that he’d insisted on was threatening to become real. With his brother’s insistence, they went to the emergency room. Tests were done and it was concluded; cardiomyopathy.

The doctor, a kind elderly man with thinning hair, tiredly sipped his cup of coffee. “It’s the weakening of the heart muscles. Baka stress, lack of proper diet, exercise or rest. Popularly, it’s called the Broken Heart Syndrome. Anatomically that’s a lie. The heart doesn’t break, of course. The muscles in our heart are the strongest in our body. But,” and here he looked at Joven lying down on the sterile hospital bed, curled pitifully, “it does get tired.”

Joven, unlike his Kuya José, was actually mindful of the age of the birthday celebrant that he was preparing for. Since Manuel was several years older than him, birthday parties were serious, sit-down affairs. He made sure that each birthday had a different type of cuisine. Skipping over the usual French and Italian, they've had Greek and British ("Bakit walang lasa ‘tong karne?" "Ganyan talaga ‘pag roast beef, Joselito" "Eh. Jovito, iabot mo sakin ‘yang Knorr."). Last year, Joven prepared Spanish dishes ("Parang Pinoy din ‘no?" José said, while scarfing down escabeche. “Tinamad ka ‘ata.” “José.”) and for this year's birthday, he chose Thai, with its nutty pad thai noodles and hearty bowls of tom yum. All with the help of Ed Rusca, of course.

Despite his dubious addiction towards local baked goods and glutinous rice snacks, Ed Rusca was, surprisingly, an accomplished cook. They only found out about this completely by accident; Rusca, seeing that Joven was stumped at how to cook paella, took over. He moved like he could’ve cooked the dish with his eyes closed. And he didn’t just make plain paella.

“Nagluto ka ng arros negre?!” Goyong screeched. “Paano? Kain ka nang kain diyan tapos hindi mo ‘man lang sinasabi na marunong ka rin palang magluto!” Rusca shrugged, ensaymada halfway inside his mouth. “‘Di niyo naman ako tinatanong.”

After that, Joven made sure to always get Rusca’s connivance in preparing dishes for his kuya’s birthday.

"Sa’n ko lalagay ‘tong curry?" Rusca asked, hefting a large ceramic casserole.

"Diyan, Kuya Ed, sa may tabi ng fried rice." Joven directed, while looking for the cutlery that they used for special occasions. "Wala pa ba si Kuya Paco?"

"Male-late ‘yun," Rusca said "pero dadating pa rin."

"Ano ‘to?" José pointed towards a plate of what looked like glutinous rice cooked in coconut milk and paired with sliced mangoes.

"Khao niao mamuang. Mango sticky rice." Joven said, triumphant that he was able to find what he was looking for "Dessert ‘yan."

"Wow. Kanin tapos kanin pa rin for dessert. Carbo loading ba tayo dito? Tatakbo ba tayo ng marathon?" José said, teasing.

"’Wag mong pakialaman kung ano hinanda ng kapatid mo," Manuel interjected, "at least walang balloons ang birthday ko."

"Oo nga, thank God." Goyong emphatically agreed, lifting casserole covers to look inside their contents. "Jovito, ikaw mag-ayos ng birthday ko sa susunod ha," while looking at the dishes with interest. "You have good taste." he said, visibly impressed.

"Thanks Goyong!" Joven said, pleased.

"Kung babayaran mo siya!" José rolled his eyes, and pushed him away from the dining table. "Atsaka pwede ba, over my dead body bago ko hayaan ang kapatid ko na paghandaan ka nang kung ano."

Where is Kuya Paco, Joven wondered, looking at the clock. He didn't worry too much, though. Kuya Paco would never miss his Kuya Manuel's birthday. Maybe he's preparing a surprise. It wouldn't be unlikely. Kuya Paco was a good friend like that. Kuya Paco is perfect like that. He shrugged and went back to heating the tom yum in the kitchen.

A few minutes later came the unmistakable sound of Paco's car parking outside. There was the metallic ssshr-ing of the screen door opening and Paco shouting, "Manuel! Saan ka! May surprise ako!"

"O, andito lang ako." he shouted, carrying an ice bucket from the kitchen. "Ano yun— Oh my God." Manuel exclaimed in surprise. A woman's happy shriek and Manuel's laughter caused Joven to switch the stove off and go to the sala to see what the commotion was all about. There, standing in their sala, was Kuya Paco, as well as a woman his Kuya Manuel was currently embracing.

"Jules! Oh my God, Jules! Kelan ka pa dumating?" Manuel releasing her from a tight embrace to look at her up and down. "Tumaba ka nang konti ha, pero ang ganda mo pa din."

"Ngayon lang ako dumating Manuel! Dapat kanina pa kami kaso na-delay yung baggage ko, nasama sa isang flight or something," the woman waved her hand vaguely, "pero tinaon ko talaga umuwi today para maabutan ko birthday mo." She hugged him again, "Grabe, ilang taon na!"

Paco was looking at both of them and beaming proudly

"Ah, teka papakilala kita." Manuel the ever-conscientious host, turned around to call everyone’s attention. “Guys, si Juliana Piqueras, si Ate Jules! Girlfriend ni Paco.”

Girlfriend ni Paco.

Joven’s blood ran cold.

For all of Joven’s want for his Kuya Paco, he knew that there was a girlfriend somewhere that the older man already had a relationship with. He’d browse through Paco’s social media timelines and scroll extra fast at any mention or image of a woman who wasn’t Paco’s family. He never brought the relationship question up when talking to Paco. He avoided the topic because he knew. But, because of the lack of an actual female physical presence to remind him of not only his Kuya Paco’s civil status, but his sexuality as well, Joven continued with his fantasies. Seeing her in the flesh made all his dreams of ever being with his Kuya Paco (yes, yes, he harbored that hope. Foolish, he knew, but what was reality when it came up against teenage fantasy?) come crashing down on his ears.

There was a chorus of hellos, and she waved and or shook hands with each of them. Goyong stared at her in frank appreciation. “I never knew na may kakainggitan ako kay Kuya Paco, pero nung nakita kita…” he said suavely. José made gagging noises in the background.

When she reached Joven, she clapped her hands to her mouth in delight. “Jovito? Eto ba si Jovito?” she enveloped him in a fierce hug. Joven, arms stiff at his sides, didn’t respond. She looked at him, her eyes cursorily roaming his face, and then spoke to Paco. “Love, ang laki na niya ‘no?” To Joven, “Palagi kang kinukuwento sakin ni Paco! Ang dami niyang pictures mo! ‘Yang aso na ‘yan ni Paco ‘di ko na nga nababalitaan pero ikaw? Parang halos kilala na nga kita.” she looked at him affectionately. She looked back at Paco, smiling. “Love, sayang binata na siya! Kung baby pa rin siya katulad nung una mo siyang nakilala, gawin sana natin siyang ringbearer.”

Paco laughed, “‘Wag ka mag-alala, hon. ‘Pag kinasal tayo, isa siya sa groomsmen. Promise.”

Each word was like a knife blade, dripping acid, through Joven’s heart. His hands were clenched so tightly that he felt that his nails had cut through the skin of his palms. Go away, go away. Go back to Singapore. Or wherever. Anywhere but here. Leave us alone. Joven’s mind cried. Go away. You’re not supposed to be here. You don’t belong here.

“O, Joven. Magsalita ka naman.” Rusca encouraged. “Pasensya ka na Jules, baka lang hindi siya sanay sa mga magagandang babae...” Teased Goyong.

“Imposible! Sa guwapo ng batang to?” Jules took him by the arm and had him sit with her on the sofa, “Nako, panigurado sobrang heartbreaker mo, sa itsura mong yan.” she clasped his hands. “Di bale, Jovito, nandito na si Ate Jules mo. Ako na tatayong ate mo, parang kung pano mo lang naging kuya si Paco.”

Joven stared at her, a pained smile on his face.

Dinner for Joven was a three-hour long affair with every minute feeling like his skin was being slowly pulled away from his flesh by tiny, tiny hooks. He sat between his Kuya Manuel and Goyong, with his Kuya José in front of him. The  food was superb. The tom yum goong spicy and sour, with just the right bite of lemongrass; the pad thai noodles, massaman curry and kao phad cooked to perfection. But to Joven, every bite was like ash on his tongue and teeth. He gave some cursory responses but refused to participate in any of the conversation. Paco, concerned, asked across the table if he was alright. No, Joven wanted to say. I am not alright. Every time you hold your girlfriend’s hand is another cut across my throat. But Joven remained silent. He just nodded his head and went back to mechanically chewing his food.

After dinner, Joven couldn’t stand it any longer. Seeing Paco and Jules kiss, no matter how chaste, was the last straw (“Ang sarap sarap naman ng handa na ‘to, Manuel!” Jules smiled after polishing off her second plate of curry. “Si Jovito lahat ‘yan!” Manuel beamed. Jules grinned at Paco. “Kung sana lang ganito ako kahusay magluto, ano?” “Loves, aaminin kong walang-wala ka talaga sa expertise ni Jovito, pero mahal na mahal pa rin kita.” Paco brushed Jules’ cheek with a kiss).

Rusca and Goyong started howling. Joven gave his excuses—barely audible due to the boys’ hoots—and made his way to go up his room on the pretext of a headache.

He encountered his brother along the way, carrying bottles of Red Horse and San Miguel. “Jovito, okay ka lang ba? Teka nga.” he placed the bottles on a side table and wiped his hands down his shirt. “Wala ka naman lagnat.”

“Hinde kuya, napagod lang ako siguro sa pag-prepare ng dinner. Pasabi kay Kuya Manuel umakyat na ‘ko? Ang sama na talaga ng pakiramdam ko.” he lied.

José looked like he was about to say something, but thought against it. “Sige, sasabihan ko na lang si kuya.” and, before leaving, “Wala ka bang ipapasabi kay Kuya Paco? Hahanapin ka din nun.”

It was now Joven’s turn to bite back what he wanted to stay.

"Okay; one, palagi naman akong nandito, movie night o hinde. Two, ‘pag may bagyo, ang solusyon ni Kuya Manuel para hindi mo sunugin ‘tong bahay sa boredom mo ay movie night. Always. And three," he said smugly "nung tinext ko si Jovito sabi niya okay lang daw na mag-join ako ng movie night!"

José huffed. Joven shrugged as if to say eh, what can I do.

"Okay, places!" Manuel clapped his hands for attention. People started picking spots in the sala, propping themselves with throw pillows to get comfortable. Paco sat on the couch and patted the space beside him. "Couch buddy!" he smiled at Joven.

"Uh." Joven said, mindful now of his Kuya José. "Uhm sa..."

"Jovito, move! Ano pa tinatayo-tayo mo diyan!" José pushed him, balancing a huge bowl of popcorn. "Doon ka kay Kuya Paco, bilis! Magsa-start na yung movie!"

"Uhm, okay." Joven sat beside Paco, wrapping a fleece blanket around himself. Paco took a throw pillow and placed it on the side where Joven would sit, saying "Baka makatulog ka, Jovito. I'm prepared." And grinned down at him.

Joven grinned back, and snuggled down Paco's side. Paco slung his arm at the back of the couch so he could lean in closer.

The chatter between them died down once the movie started playing. Joven was not a fan of horror movies and hated the creeping paranoia that they gave him whenever he watched one. He could never deny his brother Manuel anything, though, so he’d always just arm himself with a blanket and try to bite down any screams whenever they watched anything that had ghoulish women with long hair crawling on the screen. He lay his head down on the pillow that Paco readied and pretended to fall asleep. Paco knew Joven was only pretending, seeing the boy’s already closed eyes still wince from time to time.

Paco used to this ritual between him and Joven, idly stroked the boy's hair. The silky-fine hair of childhood was giving way to the coarser, thicker hair of puberty. Paco, not for the first time, envied José and Manuel. He is such a sweet child, he thought. He never failed to set a plate for Paco on their dining table, made sure to give him small trinkets for his birthday ("Ano ‘to? Nako Jovito, gumastos ka pa, sana sinave mo na lang allowance mo!" "Hindi, okay lang ‘yun, Kuya Paco!" Joven was so pleased that Paco was amazed at the leather keyfob with the embossed profile of a dog. He used it still for his car keys, even though it was already faded and worn, and resolved to never change it until the leather fell apart) and made him feel as if he was part of their family. Paco, in turn, babied him to the point of spoiling. All Joven would say was "Kuya Paco…" and he would come running (Ed once scoffed, "Daig pa syota ah"). Jules once teased him that Joven would probably be thirty and he would still let him sleep in his lap like a child. Oo, Paco had said, gusto ko pag nagka-anak tayo, parang katulad ni Jovito; sobrang sweet tapos matalino pa.

He felt Joven shift when a particularly scary scene showed on the screen. Paco leaned in and whispered, mindful of not disturbing the others, "Harap ka na lang sa ‘kin, nakakatakot na ‘yang part na ‘yan."

Joven turned, careful not to disturb Goyong, who had positioned himself on the floor in front of him, his back to the edge of the sofa. "Inaantok na ‘ko Kuya Paco, pero nagising ako dun eh." he confessed. Paco smiled down at him, booping his nose. "Mamaya, ‘pag tapos na yan, ibu-bully ko sila para makapanood tayo ng Up." he said quietly so that the others won't hear "Favorite ko dun si Russell kasi parang ikaw lang dati, chubby."

Joven stuck his tongue out. "Kung ako si Russell, ikaw si Dug."

Paco chuckled and imitated Dug's voice. "I hid under the porch because I love you."

Joven hid his face on the pillow, shoulders shaking from laughter.

Beside them, Goyong made an annoyed hiss. "’Wag maingay! Nanonood kami dito, Kuya Paco!"

This earned a new spate of giggles from both Joven and Paco.

Joven turned over and stared into his darkening room. His eyes were puffy and sore from crying. Anger at his kuya had given way to hurt. But listening to his Kuya José apologize in a heartfelt manner from the other side of the door— his kuya who weaseled his way out of apologies every time—also made Joven feel contrite.  He didn’t mean to shout at his brother or push him out of his room. Nor did he mean the harsh things that he shouted after slamming the door. His Kuya José, dense as though he was, still deeply cared for him in a way that only big brothers could.

Joven got out of bed, blankets peeling away from his sweat-soaked skin. He hadn’t turned on the fan or air conditioning before collapsing into bed, angry beyond caring.

He unlocked the door and opened it slowly. The hallway light was lit, but there was no one around. The door to his Kuya José’s room was closed.

He was about to step out when his foot caught on something.

Looking down, he saw a white paper bag, top folded backwards and with a black silk handle. Its front was cut out and covered in transparent plastic, to make its contents visible. Peering inside, he gasped in surprise. It was a chocolate gift bag from Lindt. Carton containers of assorted chocolates were placed on both ends. But placed carefully in the middle was a bear-shaped chocolate wrapped in gold foil. On its neck was a red bow, from where a heart-shaped pendant dangled. On the paper bag itself, was his brother’s unmistakeable chicken-scrawl:

Dear Jovito,

I am bear-y sorry. 

Love, Kuya José

It was one of those idyllic Sundays.

The sun was out but it was still windy enough for it to be not too hot. Manuel would usually take this opportunity to do the chores that he couldn't do during the weekdays, as well as make sure that his two younger brothers did theirs, too. Both had an almost violent aversion to handling cleaning implements; whereas Joven would just grumpily go through the motions, making José do chores was like pulling teeth. He'd make the most inventive and creative excuses ("Kuya I think meron akong allergy sa dust mites?" "Sige, linisin mo na lang yung kotse." "Pati ‘yung mga dust mites sa tubig, kuya." "José, walang dust mites ang tubig. Linisin mo yung kotse, kung hindi, wala kang allowance.”) just to skip out on what he needed to do.

Both had once begged for Manuel to hire someone to help in the house. Manuel refused. "’Pag kumuha ako ng kasama sa bahay, eh di mas lalo kayong magiging parang halaman!" Manuel said, ignoring José's whines. "Hinde! Matuto kayong dalawa na kumilos! Joven, all three bedrooms must be cleaned every week. Ikaw, José, labada. Mahirap ba ‘yun?"

This time, however, both were studiously doing the assigned tasks given to them. Joven meticulously dusted, mopped and wiped the upstairs rooms while José vigilantly watched the washing machine turn in the garage. After that fateful day with Joven’s laptop, both kept to their parts of the house and were awkwardly polite towards each other. If one was in the sala, the other stayed in their room, and vice-versa. Dinners were painful affairs where both only spoke to Manuel, if they chose to even speak at all. Manuel sighed inwardly from where he was chopping potatoes for mechado.

"Hay nako ma, ‘yung dalawa niyong bunso, hindi na lumaki sa pagiging bata." He grumbled softly while pushing the cubes of potatoes in a bowl. "Hindi na ako mag-aasawa. Hindi na kailangan. Para naman na ‘kong may dalawang anak, e."

"Kuya?" Joven called from the landing.

"O, bakit?" Manuel answered, taking the beef out from the freezer.

"Kuya, puwedeng pakibigay ‘tong mga bed cover and pillowcases kay Kuya José?" Joven asked, a bundle of used linen on his arm. "Para mahabol sa labada."

Manuel turned from the sink where he was defrosting the beef. "May ginagawa ako, Jovito. Ang kuya mo nasa garahe lang. Ilang hakbang lang yan kung sa’n ka nakatayo. Hindi mo ba kayang ibigay nang sarili mo?"

"Kuya kasi..." Joven made to speak.

"Nag-sorry naman sa ‘yo ‘yang kuya mo sa ginawa niya, hindi ba, Jovito?" Manuel chided his youngest brother.

Joven bit his lip. Manuel knew that Joven was never one to hold grudges (though he would never admit out loud that what José did was beyond the pale and deserved Joven ignoring him) but felt that his coldness towards his brother should stop. José, brash as he was, still loved his brother deeply, even though he had a crazy way of showing it.

"Ano na, Jovito? Magluluto pa ako." Manuel turned back to the beef that he placed in the sink. He heard Joven sigh and the sound of the screen door opening.

"Kuya José."

José looked up from where he was staring at the hypnotic churning of the washing machine. "O, Jovito." He saw the dirty linen that were bundled on his brother's arm "Akin na ‘yan, mabuti hindi pa ako nagsisimula sa mga sapin."

Joven handed the haphazardly folded sheets and pillowcases. Instead of turning to go back inside, he cleared his throat and said "Kuya José, thank you sa chocolates ha."

José beamed. "Nagustuhan mo?"

"Oo, alam mo naman na favorite ko yung Lindt. Atsaka," Joven idly rearranged the detergent bottles on top of the dryer. "sorry na rin sa nangyari. Na sinigawan kita. Atsaka na tinago ko ‘yung kay..." he gulped. "…Kuya Paco."

José didn't respond immediately. He opened the washing machine lid and started wringing out the clothes, stacking them in the large basin beside him. After wringing a few, he said. "So. Si Kuya Paco pala ha."

Joven stayed silent. Then, reaching out to help José wring the clothes he said, "Oo, kuya. Medyo matagal na."

José made a hmm-ing noise. "’Kaw ha. Alam ko na type mo. You're all about that bass," He turned to look at Joven and wagged a soapy finger at him. "No treble."

"Kuya!" Joven shouted, embarrassed.

José continued, grinning mischievously. "Pero okay yun. Malaman! Pangit ‘pag masyadong payat." He leaned in and confided, "…para kang nakikipag-sex sa chicken wing."

"Oh my god, kuya!" Joven was now bent over laughing. "Oh my god, tama na!"

"Totoo naman eh! May na-date ako dati, sobrang payat! Pag kinukurot ko siya, para ko lang kinukurot ‘yung sarili ko..."

Manuel reached out and stared at the photo as was his wont when he was tired from work. José still didn't have tattoos on his wrists back then, Manuel observed as he gazed thoughtfully at the photo, and Joven's shirt was brand new when that picture was taken. Now it was sitting with the other pile of rags that he used when cleaning his car.

He missed his brothers terribly. I hope that I didn't choose to make a living for my brothers, Manuel thought, running his fingers on the glass, while missing out on their actual lives.

"Sir Manuel?" a female voice called from the door.

Manuel put back the frame on his desk and sat up, straightening his tie. "Yes, Cathy?"

"A José Bernal is here to see you?" the receptionist inquired politely.

"Ah, kapatid ko siya. Sige, sige show him in please." and a grateful "Thank you, Cathy."

"You're welcome po." she replied sunnily.

Manuel waited for his brother to come in. This was a rare treat. Jovito, he'd expect to drop by. His baby brother had not outgrown the sweet temperament and thoughtfulness of his childhood. He'd visit his Kuya Manuel on afternoons that he didn't have classes or would call him up for Facetime or Skype just to talk to his kuya. José, however, had always been preoccupied with friends—and later on, girlfriends—that he'd only send the occasional errant text message. He found it exasperating (and amusing) that José communicated more with him using his Instagram comments than using his actual mobile number.

José sulkily trudged in, arms jammed inside the pockets of his hoodie and wearing denim pants that had seen better days. He sat on one of the office chairs that were placed in front of Manuel's desk.

"Napadaan ka, Joselito." Manuel observed pointedly.

"May gusto si Jovito kay Kuya Paco." José said bluntly without looking at him, kicking his heel on the carpet.

Oh, Manuel thought.

"Oo, alam ko." Manuel said.

José exploded from Manuel's nonchalance. "Kuya, Diyos ko, kasing tanda mo si Kuya Paco! Naabutan niyang lumaki si Jovito! Iniiwan pa nga natin sa kaniya palagi si Jovito! Tapos ganito? Puta, pano kung si Kuya Paco pa yung rason kung bakit—"

"José, huwag mong ituloy yang sasabihin mo kung hindi ito ang unang beses na pagbubuhatan kita ng kamay," Manuel cut him off coldly. "Ang Kuya Paco mo ang nag-alaga sa inyo ‘pag nasa trabaho ako. Siya ‘yung umaasikaso sa kapatid mo ‘pag ikaw," Manuel pointed at him "ay minsa’y wala sa bahay dahil sa kung anu-anong kalokohang ginagawa mo."

"So ganun na lang? Hahayaan mo lang na yung kapatid natin na magkagusto—magnasa—kay Paco? Si Kuya Paco na halos doble ng edad niya?" José was standing up now. "Wow, ha," He huffed sarcastically.

“Umupo ka at hinaan mo ang boses mo." Manuel directed. "Mag-uusap tayo nang maayos nang hindi ka sumisigaw."

“Alam kong may gusto ang kapatid mo kay Paco. Matagal ko na rin alam na wala siyang pakialam sa babae. Kasi halata na sa simula pa lang. Hinayaan ko lang ang kapatid mo kasi, ano ang magagawa natin? At the end of the day, kapatid pa rin natin siya." Manuel explained patiently. José made a move to speak, but Manuel cut him off. "Nakita mo bang pinakialaman niya yung stack ng FHM mo kahit kailan? Nung mga gabi na palagi kayong lumalabas sa mga party ng kaibigan mo para ipakilala siya sa babae—oo alam ko yun José, huwag mo akong gawing tanga—may nakilala ba siya? Nagkaro’n ba siya ng girlfriend, maski fling? Tinantanan mo ba yung kapatid mo nung sinabi na niya mismo na wala siyang type?"

José was silent. Manuel looked at him challengingly.

"Ikaw ang may problema dito, José. Hindi yung kapatid mo. At lalo nang hindi si Paco."

"Hindi pa rin kuya, dapat pagsabihan mo si Jovito." José said, mouth set on angry line.

"Puppy love lang ‘yun. Lumaki siya na hine-hero worship si Paco. Naging crush dahil nagiging teenager na yung kapatid mo. At si Paco naman, pareho lang kayo. Kahit may sumabog na na bomba sa mukha niyo, hindi niyo pa rin mage-gets." Manuel said dryly "At kung malaman ni Paco, ano ang gagawin niya? Hihiwalayan niya si Jules? Tandaan mo may girlfriend yung tao at—hindi man sinasabi ni Paco—baka may balak na silang magpakasal. Paco is not going to take advantage of Jovito. He loves him like a brother."

"Pero si Jovito, hinde." José said grimly.

"Yes, pero mas mabuti na Jovito finds out on his own." Manuel said gently. At mas mabuti rin na hanggang pagtingin lang siya sa isang lalaki kaysa nanlalandi ng iba’t ibang babae, he added under his breath.

“Kuya.” José said, “Alam mong wala namang pag-asa si Jovito kay Kuya Paco. Okay lang sa ‘yo na ma-heartbroken siya kung malaman niya ‘yon?”

There were several tabs open. José squinted and read through the keywords on top of each. Husky pe teacher twink roleplay. Thigh kink. Asian muscle bear. Bear fuck boys. Rugby team gangbang. Dad bod. Mature bear chubby. José’s eye twitched.

It’s okay, I support Joven in this, José reasoned. It’s okay. If my brother wants to watch porn, it’s fine. It’s normal. Everyone does it. Goyong does it. I do it. Hell, even Kuya Manuel probably does it. Probably. Maybe not. But if Joven’s going to want to watch this kind of porn, that’s alright. I have to be accepting of this. José steeled himself. If he was going to be a good big brother, he had to know what Joven was into.

He clicked the first tab. A lithe blonde-haired man in a starched schoolboy uniform was sucking off a large, hirsute man on what seemed like a teacher’s desk. The next tab was a different theme, a man dressed in a fireman’s overalls was very, very enthusiastically fucking a younger man over a fire hydrant. Each had different fantasy scenarios, but José felt like there was something recurring between each video that he wasn’t quite seeing.

He cycled through the tabs again, taking care to rewind the videos back to where Joven had paused them. Huh, he thought, looking at each video critically. They’re all big men. Wide chests, strong thighs, a little trimming of fat on the stomach. Big dudes. Ha, kind of like Paco. It was a funny thought. Until it sunk in. They all looked like Paco.

José’s eyes widened in horror.

Paco.

Then it dawned on him. Joven’s fondness for stuffed bears. Naming his stuffed animal Pacobear. Sleeping on Paco’s lap during movie nights. Being present during Paco and Manuel’s Friday night drinking sessions even if he wasn’t fond of drinking. Joven flirting with that huge douche from that party months ago. No, no. This is stupid, he thought. Those are all just weird coincidences. Then he had an idea, cautiously reopening the laptop, and launching another window in the browser. He logged onto email and attempted to break into Joven’s account. Biting his lip, José slowly keyed in Joven’s credentials.

username: joven.hernando password: pacoroman

Wait, no. That’s too obvious, José thought to himself. Joven isn’t that stupid. He hit the backspace key a couple times and tried again.

username: joven.hernando password: franciscovelasquezroman

José hit enter.

Welcome back, Joven! You have three (3) unread messages since you last logged in. It is 9:30 PM in Manila and the weather is Partly Cloudy.

“Putang ina.” José cussed out loud, closing the window. Questions began racing in his head How bad was Joven’s crush, exactly? Setting his email password to Paco’s full name? How long has this been going on? Joven knew Paco since he was a boy! Did getting to know Paco infl—

José was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice that the shower had stopped and that the door to Joven’s bathroom door had swung open.

Joven stepped out, scrubbing his hair furiously. "Kuya José, what was tha—”

He saw José sitting in front of his laptop, browsing through all that tabs that he left open. Specifically, his porn tabs.

“Oh my God, Kuya José!” he gasped, and slammed the lid of the laptop closed. He grabbed the laptop and threw it inside his closet. “What the fuck, Kuya! Could you ask permission first bago mo gamitin ‘yung laptop ko?!” Joven shouted, scandalized.

“Jovito,” José said “tapatin mo nga ako.”

“Saan? Alam mo na naman na I like guys ‘di ba?” Joven said, still deeply annoyed. “Of course I’ll be watching gay porn! As if ikaw hindi puro tumpok ng back issues ng FHM ang kwarto! ‘Wag kang magmalinis!”

“Hindi ‘yun.” José looked at the bear who was parked on the foot of Joven’s bed. “May gusto ko ba sa isa sa mga kilala natin?”

Joven turned red and sputtered, “Wala ‘no! At sino naman ang magugustuhan ko sa kanila? Si Rusca? Ambaboy kaya nun!”

José pushed down the bear’s nose. “Ewan ko. Baka type mo… si Paco.”

Joven swallowed. “Bakit mo naman nasabi na si Kuya Paco?”

José stood up and took the laptop from where Joven threw it in his closet.  He opened the laptop in front of Joven and commanded, “Upo. May papagawa ako sa ‘yo.”

“If this is about the gay porn—”

“Hinde,” snapped José. “Basta pumunta ka dito.”

Joven sat down with a huff. “O, ano.” He said mutinously.

“Naalala mo ba nung tinatanong kita kung ano yung password mo sa email address mo kasi may sinend si Kuya Manuel sa ‘yo? Tapos ayaw mong sabihin kasi sabi mo pangalan ng crush mo?”

“K-kuya, antagal na nun! Ano’ng kinalaman ng email ko dito!” Joven scoffed. But José could see he was clearly anxious.

José pushed the laptop towards him. “Mag log-in ka sa email mo,” he leaned forward. “…Pero ididictate ko ‘yung password sa ‘yo.”

Joven looked at him and laughed nervously. “Kuya nagbibiro lang ako, hindi naman—”

“Bilis na Joven. Kung hindi mag-aaway na naman tayo.” José said flatly.

Joven angrily grabbed his laptop and opened a browser, jabbing the keyboard to type the address for his email provider.

“I-type mo yung pangalan ni Paco.”

Joven’s face tightened into a scowl. The room was deathly still except for the hard clack of his keyboard.

An error message came up: 

The password that you typed is incorrect.

“Kuya José, pwedeng lumabas ka sa kwarto ko, tinype ko na yung name ni Paco and mali yung iniisip mo.” Joven said stonily without making eye contact with José. A smug grin started to spread on his face.

José remained where he was. “Hinde ‘pacoroman’. Itype mo yung totoong pangalan ni Paco.”

Joven didn’t move. José turned the laptop back towards him and typed it himself.

The browser let out a beep. The tight line of Joven’s smug grin fell.

Welcome back, Joven! You have three (3)  unread messages since you last logged in. It is 9:33 PM in Manila and the weather is Partly Cloudy.

José spoke up from where he was texting someone on his phone. "Huwag na, uuwi na kami. Sa bahay na namin, may cold compress dun."

Goyong started the car, backing up to take a U-turn. "Party pa, sige! Ano bang nangyari? Nakipag-away ka ba dahil sa babae? Take it from me, huwag ka kasing papatol sa mga may boyfriend na!" Goyong turned the steering wheel, directing his sermon, this time, to José. "Alalay naman kasi sa pagrereto ng babae, di naman mauubusan yang si Jovito."

"Hindi na ‘ko magrereto ng babae diyan." José said quietly while looking out the car window.

Goyong gave José a long, low look. José didn't turn from where he was studiously watching the traffic. He looked at Joven from the rear view mirror. Joven stared back, daring him to say something.

Goyong smiled. "Okay."

Months after that encounter, José reset his gameplan. No more busty chinitas for Joven. No more ditzy mestizas who always got drunk first at parties. No girls. Full stop. If Joven wanted to date men, he would be dating men of quality. Henceforth, José was now carefully choosing who'd he'd like Joven to meet. He had a very strenuous selection process: no ruffians, no college dropouts, no secret girlfriends. Every man who he felt was making a pass at Joven was met with a critical eye. Every man.

So if the waiter at the restaurant lingered in taking Joven's order, José would hurry him along. If a salesperson got too handsy in helping Joven fit clothes, he'd shoo him away and José would help him fit the clothes himself. If somebody made the pretext of asking Joven in Starbucks about his coffee or the empty chair beside him, José nipped it in the bud and answered for him.

Even their friends didn't escape José's watchful eye. He assiduously asked if Rusca was bent towards that direction ("I think mas interesado siya sa pagkain, to be honest." Paco said thoughtfully.) and he confronted Mascardo if he liked dick in any way ("Sapak ang isasagot ko sa ‘yo, Bernal."). But among all them, the one that he guarded most was Goyong. Knowing his friend's own sexual proclivities, he kept a tight leash on activities that involved both him and Joven.

"Goyong, ‘yung kape nandito, wala diyan sa kuwarto ni Joven."

"Goyong, please lang. Magdamit ka, nandito ang kapatid ko."

"Goyong, dito ka sa tabi ko. Hayaan mo si Joven sa armchair."

But to those that José found worthy of dating his baby brother, he reached levels of embarrassment that made Joven cringe, even more when he was still throwing girls at the latter.

"Pogi ka ha. Anong course mo? Nagtatrabaho ka na ba? Atsaka type mo ba mga lalake?"  

José was lucky enough that he was too charming for his own good or he would've been punched ten times over. When they’d go out, José would single out men on the street (“Hmmm, tignan mo ‘yan. Ang swag niya maglakad! O, pumasok pa siya sa Toby’s Estate. Classy motherfucker ‘yan. Tapos feeling ko hayop pa ‘yan sa kam---” “Kuya!”). At home, José devoted his time to scouring the internet for possible matches for his brother (“‘Wag ka na mag-Tinder o Grindr, Jovito, puro manyak na may STD ‘yun nandun. Eto tignan mo ‘yung dating ka-high school ko. Nag-out na siya! Putsa, triathlete pa o! Mataas ang endurance, kung kumady---” “Please. Stop na, kuya.”)

This newfangled behavior did not fare well with his little brother. "Kuya, ‘di naman ‘ata ako desperadong makahanap ng boyfriend," Joven would meekly say. "’Pag may mahanap ako, eh di meron. ‘Wag mo na akong hanapan."

José flapped his hands at him. "I am supporting you. This is me being supportive. Moral support." ("Immoral support!" Goyong shouted from the kitchen, "Binubugaw mo naman si Jovito!")

"Pero kuya," Joven pressed, "hindi talaga ako interesado. Mapa-Dave ‘man ‘yan na account manager sa Citibank or si Paulo na bassist or si Ian na nagtatrabaho sa Spanish Embassy. I really don't want to get a boyfriend right now."

José placed his hands on Joven's shoulders and said gravely "I know what's best for you, Jovito. Magtiwala ka sa ‘kin."

To recap. This was the order of things that José Bernal hated:

1a. Secrets

1b. Raisins

2. Liars

He was upset when his kuya didn't tell him of his plans of dropping out of college, and holed up in his room for the whole day, refusing to help Manuel with housework or looking over Joven. He shouted at Jovito for a full minute before hugging him worriedly when he didn't tell them about his classmate's after-school birthday party and José and Manuel had to frantically search for him.

José didn't like liars and secrets. He just didn't. He didn't see the reason why they had to keep secrets or lie to him.

José put his feet up on the sofa table and yawned. PAGASA declared that there were no classes today due to the inclement weather (a joke, as the sun was beating down overhead. José had half a mind to do the laundry) and he and Joven were stuck in the house because of their brother's explicit instructions ("May bagyo sabi sa news, ‘wag kayo umalis!") Joven had still hadn't come down from his room and José was getting bored.

"Jovito! Jovito!!" he shouted from his place in the couch. A thump. "Jovito, baba ka dito!"

Joven opened his door and shouted, "Sandali kuya!"

"Bilis! Tinext ko si Goyong, dadaan siya dito!" José was getting hoarse from shouting "Bumaba ka nga! Napapaos na ‘ko kakasigaw!"

"Sandali lang nga kasi kuya!" Joven starting to sound annoyed. What was he even doing up there?, José grumped.

"Pag ako umakyat diyan…!" José challenged. He missed those times when Joven did everything that he said. He heard a full minute of silence and the slow creak of the bed. Wait a darn minute, is he—? José's eyes widened.

Joven's door finally opened and he shuffled down. The back of his neck was plastered with sweat and there was a flush running from his neck, down to his chest. "Papunta na ba si Goyong?" he asked, slumping tiredly down on one of the armchairs.

José looked at him critically. Locked doors and tired boys meant only one thing. A smile creeped up on his face. My time has come.

"Jovito, maligo ka tapos magbihis ka. Aalis tayo kasama ni Goyong."

"So, this is Aics, Anne-Marie, Lisette, and Bree." Goyong pointed to a row of girls that were drinking in the kitchen. All of them giggled and the last one—the one that Goyong named Bree—called out, "Who's the cutie you made sama?"

"Bree, kilala mo na ‘ko, ano ba!" Goyong said, mock-hurt. The girls laughed again. "Si José, kilala niyo naman na siya, nadala ko na siya dito," the girls waved, "but this is his brother, Joven." Goyong gently pushed him forward with his elbow. "Say Hi.’"

All the girls were looking at him inquisitively. Joven felt his palms sweating. "Sooo. Does your friend speak, Greg?" One of the other girls asked, tipping her cup towards Joven "Or is he just a pretty face?"

Joven looked at Goyong, confused. Who was Greg? And whose pretty face were they talking about? This entire exchange was going over his head. He was getting uncomfortable. He wanted to go home.

José stepped in and placed his arm over Joven's shoulder. "Easy lang Lisette, bata pa tong kapatid ko." He dragged Joven backwards, out of the kitchen. "Balik kami, ikot lang!"

José turned to Joven to furiously whisper on his ear. "’Wag si Lisette, may boyfriend na yun, nagra-rugby pa. Mabubugbog ka nun ‘pag nalaman niyang nilalandi mo yung girlfriend niya.” Joven protested, “Hindi ko naman nilaland—” José cut him off abruptly: “Si Bree mayaman pero terror ‘yung nanay at tatay." He pulled him in the corner of a massive living room where there were several people milling about. "Eto." José poured him beer in a cup. "Inumin mo ‘yan. And remember wala kang sasabihin kay Kuya Manuel, ha."

Joven swallowed down the contents of his cup, grimacing at the flat, bitter taste. "Kuya, uuwi na ‘ko." he said, placing the cup carefully inside a trash bin. "May, uhm, gagawin pa ‘ko sa bahay."

"’Wag muna! Kakadating lang natin." José got another cup, filled it and downed it one gulp. "Si Paco lang naman nandun, may inuman sila ni Kuya Manuel ngayon kasi Biyernes." Joven twitched beside him. "’Wag ka mag-alala, ‘pag dating natin malamang tulog na si Kuya Manuel sa taas atsaka si Kuya Paco sa sofa."

Joven was silent. José prodded his chest. "Okay lang ‘yung kay Lisette, maganda siya pero may mas chicks pa sa kanya. Papakilala kita kay Bea."

José was pretty pleased with how things were turning out. Just like old times, when he would drag Joven along on his adventures, he and his brother were now once again inseparable. He took Joven to frat rushes and house parties. Joven might not ever have José's own notoriety with women but he was coming to a close second. Girls made sly eyes at Joven, lingered when they touched his arm or laughed attentively at every stammered word that he said. After each party, José quizzed Joven mercilessly on who he met. And if the who was a she.

"May nakilala ka ba kanina?" he'd hound Joven. His brother would give a pained, "Wala kuya, nakipagkwentuhan lang ako."

"Nakita ko na kausap mo si Tash. Chicks yun. Niiiiice." José ribbed him. Tash had been modelling for print ads and catalogue companies since she was 12. Joven had good taste, just like his kuya. He mentally patted himself on the back. Good job José, you raised your brother right.

"Hinde, kuya, hindi ganun. Nagkwentuhan lang talaga kami." and, nervously fidgeting with his fingers, "Hindi ko siya type."

José looked at his brother. Either Joven had really high and exacting standards or those glasses of his needed changing. He'd ask Kuya Manuel if they can bring him to an opto. Maybe get his eye grade checked. Get some new frames, too. Those Harry Potter spectacles really had got to go. Or maybe ditch the glasses altogether and get him contacts. Jovito had long-lashed honest-to-goodness brown eyes. Girls loved boys with brown eyes.

"Nevermind," José said, brushing Joven's protests. "Sa next party, panigurado may makikilala kang type mo."

And so one party became another party. And so forth and so on. José didn't mind if Joven seemed like he wasn't hitting it off with anybody. He'd meet someone in this next party.

"José, may beer pa dun!" somebody pointed out. "Sige tsong!" replied José, and clapped him on the back. A chorus of greetings came up at the mention of his name. "Oi, oi, nandito na ‘ko bakit parang wala pang lasing!" He shouted. Someone laughed and whistled.

"Hey José." a girl on a cropped top slinked towards him. He went through his mental catalogue; Valerie, 19, Ateneo, Polsci. Ex ni Renz. Dating Nico. Wait, baka ‘di na sila mag-on. "Hey Val. 'sup?" he winked. "Love the shirt." Val traced a lazy finger down on his front and looked up sultrily at him "Is your brother here?" José gave a start. Oh yeah, where'd his brother go? He came here with Joven, but somebody grabbed him the moment that he stepped inside the front door. "I'll look for him. Diyan ka lang, wag kang aalis, magtatampo ako." He gave the girl a quick kiss and stepped back to the direction where he last saw Joven. "Babalik ako babe, just stay there!" he called out.

He found Joven sitting on a kitchen counter beside a tall, broad-shouldered man who looked like he was bursting from the thin white t-shirt that he was wearing. Both seemed to be drinking, but Joven's bottle was placed beside him, freeing up his hands so he can gesticulate wildly while, it seemed, telling a particularly animated story. The man beside him laughed and bumped his fist on Joven's shoulder. Joven tucked his chin down and blushed in response.

Huh. Strange. He'd never seen Joven this animated in any of the parties that he brought him to. Good job, baby brother, making friends. The man had the rough-hewn features of someone who played sports out in the sun. Must be a rugby or football player. Another good job, Joven! Players attracted girls like bees to honey. Maybe Joven could get tips.

"Oi José, hinahanap ka ni Val! Tsaka may lighter ka ba? Nawala ko sakin." called a voice from behind him. José, distracted from looking at Joven across the room, patted his back pocket for his Bic lighter. "Eto o, balik mo sakin ha, swerteng lighter ko yan. Pag naki—"

There was the sudden crash of bottles. José looked up in surprise from where he was talking to his friend. The man who Joven was talking to had his brother slammed in front of a kitchen counter, fists bunched up on the front of Joven's shirt. He was shouting "What the fuck was that about? Are you a fucking fag?" Everybody had stopped what they were doing to watch curiously.

Shit. Putang ina. José cursed. What the fuck?

José stormed towards them and punched the guy square in the face, knuckles cracking in protest. "Putang ina mo, ano’ng ginagawa mo sa kapatid ko!" The punch was like a switch. People started intervening. One bodily dragged José away, murmuring easy pare, puta, anak ng senador ‘yan. Several people were holding down the man, his sheer size making them look like they were trying to grapple an angry bull.

"’Tang ina mo, lumapit ka dito and I will fucking crush your face in!" he angrily gritted out, veins on his neck standing in angry relief.

"José, dalhin mo kapatid mo, umuwi ka na." One of his friends urgently said, "Bilis, puta, Grand Tau pinsan niyan, baka magtawag pa ‘yan. Sanay ka sa away, pero putang ina, kawawa ‘yang kapatid mo."

José looked at Joven. He was shaking like a leaf and his face was mottled in fear. He was biting his lips hard enough to draw blood, trying to prevent himself from crying. José shook off the person holding him down and grabbed his arm. "Jovito, halika na, uwi na tayo."

They stormed out of the house, José with a death grip on his brother's arm. He fumbled for his phone, dialling Goyong's number. He answered on the second ring.

"Hm?" Goyong grunted on the other line. José wasted no time with greetings.  "Nasa’n ka? Sunduin mo kami. Napa-trouble si utol." Goyong asked, "Sa’n kayo? Kila Marvin ba yan?" José curtly replied. "New Manila, yung Marvin na taga-Ateneo, hindi yung taga-Beda." There was a rustle on the other line. Goyong sounded like he was putting on clothes. "Pumunta kayo sa kanto, yung Mazda na pula yung dala ko." Then Goyong cut the line.

They walked on, silent, José still gripping Joven's arm. Upon reaching the corner where they were supposed to meet Goyong, José stopped and looked for a cigarette to light. He was still shaking in anger.

"Ano’ng nangyari dun, Jovito?" he angrily dragged on his cigarette. Joven still remained silent, gingerly rubbing his hand from where José had grabbed him. "’Di bale, Jovito. Anak ng senador o hinde, Gran Tau na pinsan o hinde, babasagin ko mukha nun sa ginawa niya sa ‘yo." He punctuated this declaration by blowing smoke angrily and then crushing the cigarette under his sneaker. He lit up another one in agitation.

"Kuya, I'm sorry." Joven tearfully said "’Wag na, kasalanan ko." A choked sob, tears starting to run down his face. "Hindi ko naman kasi talaga alam kung pano mag-flirt. Hindi ako katulad niyo ni Goyong. ‘Kala ko type niya ko! Ang friendly niya kasi tapos hawak nang hawak sa akin! Hindi ko alam na ganun!" Joven confessed, full-on crying. "Pero kuya promise, wala akong ginagawang masama, ‘kala ko lang talaga gusto niya ‘ko!"

José stared, cigarette dangling from his lips. He closed his mouth and then made the move to speak, thought twice, then closed it again.

"Kuya, please say something." Joven begged, still crying. "Sorry talaga."

"Jovito," José started carefully, "nung sinabi mong '’kala ko type niya ako', who exactly were you referring to?"

"Si… si Andrew." Joven whispered.

José had to close his eyes to steady himself. "Teka, si Andrew ‘yung lalakeng kausap mo? Yung sasapakin ka na?"

"Oo." Joven looked at him helplessly.

José's world felt like it tilted crazily, then in a whiplash, shifted back into focus. A sudden barrage of images came streaming into his mind's eye: Joven awkwardly sitting beside Bea, clumsy replies to flirtations, the shy blush when that Andrew guy mock-punched his shoulder. Hindi ko siya type, ‘kala ko type niya ‘ko, hindi ko siya type, ‘kala ko type niya ‘ko.

Joven's words and actions suddenly were gaining a new meaning.

"Joven, bakit hindi mo sinasabi sakin!" José felt betrayed. "Nagmukha akong tanga na kung saan-saan kita dinadala, kung sinu-sino pinapakilala ko sa ‘yo, tapos ayaw mo naman pala sila!" José shouted, voice echoing down the empty street corner. "Kuya mo ako! Dapat sinasabi mo sa ‘kin!" He pointed angrily at Joven. "Alam mong ayaw ko nang pinagtataguan ako ng kung anu-ano!"

"Kasi nangyayari na tong kinakatakutan ko! Alam kong eto ‘yung reaction mo!" Joven pleaded. "Kuya, ang tagal ko nang pinapakita sa ‘yo na ayaw ko sa mga babae! Ang tagal ko nang nagbibigay ng hint! Hindi ka naman nakikinig!"

"Sa palagay mo ba magagalit ako?!" José wasn't backing down "Tignan mo si Goyong! Alam mo ba kahit kanino nanlalandi? Alam mo bang bi ‘yun? Alam mo bang kahit babae o lalake yang i-date niyan, nagalit ba ako sa kaniya? Hindi ko na ba siya kinausap? Si Goyong yun! Eh, ikaw, lalo ka na, kapatid pa kita, sa palagay mo magagalit ako tapos hindi na kita papansinin?!"

"Eh ‘di ba, nagagalit ka na ngayon?" Joven looked at him square in the eye.

That took the wind out of José's sails. He and Joven stared at each other. Joven turned around and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Halika dito Jovito." José called him. Joven looked at him warily. "Halika, bilis."

Joven approached him cautiously. José gave an impatient snort. He bridged the gap and then enveloped José in a bone-crushing hug.

After a beat, José spoke.

"’Di bale, hayaan mo na ‘yung Andrew na ‘yun. Kupal na, ang pangit pa! Puro muscles, mukhang tipak ng karne sa mechado! Wala kang mapapala dun." José said, stroking Joven's hair. He took Joven's face into his hands, who was now both crying and laughing. "Papakilala kita kay John-Marc." José said with finality. "Matalino at gwapo. Sigurado, mata-type-an mo na yun."