#mabinaldothingz

Goyong: Papá, am I ugly?

Mabini: nonsense, I'm looking at you right now and you're the most handsome man in the world.

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Nonong: pa, am I ugly?

Since they were kids:

Aguinaldo: watcha doing?

He asks while he towers over the smaller boy.

Mabini: hey! Stop interrupting me... I couldn't read with you always blocking the sun.

Aguinaldo grins, poking pole's side.

Aguinaldo: guess you have to know how to top this! He laughed running with the book.

Mabini: get back here! He cried, oh he could never catch up with that boy! No use of these small legs of him.

_______________

Aguinaldo looks to his side... hell, it only takes Mabini's shoulder to match the level of his eyes.

Mabini noticed and looked down.

"Is there something wrong, Miong?"

Aguinaldo cleared his throat and looks away. "Nothing, just checking if you were keeping up with the discussion..." he excused, obviously trying to "stand".

Mabini rose an eyebrow with a small smile. "..."

"You know you could always stand up so no one could see the rice terraces on your head,"

Every now and then, a man named.. Apolinario spends his free days looking outside the window, gazing on some papers or rolling his wheeled chair around the old wood flooring of the white mansion.

He has not retreated to the cabins nor his hometown. Starting way back when that man... Emilio, invited him to be his secretary... his trusted man of advice. "Your words are the only ones I trust my life and my country with" such a foolish thing a proper man with a family could say.

Pole felt the wind blowing inwardly. He closes his eyes as he breathes in the clean air. But thwn his heart clenched... as if he felt something deep inside. His head quickly turns by the entrance, with only the footsteps of the disappearing señor presidente is heard and seen. Pole never recognized any of his emotional connection too deeply before. 'It must've been because he's the only person in this mansion who's living with me.' Such odd chances. A man who was inwardly a coward to his enemies, deciding to push his kawals away... choosing 2 specific.. silent maids and the rest is... the two of them.

Pole turns his attention back to the window. "He's really something.." *"something odd to understand too well sometimes"*

__________________________________________

Yawning, he reviews the constitution papers. He facepalms as formally respectful as possible. *"I shall not believe that he wrote this on his own,"*

Every pages made him sigh, every pages made him reread, every pages made him look side to side. He denies the need to laugh and smile. He denies something he's doing inwardly. *"The usual you are, Miong,"*

The last page is all left before they share their opinions. Pole sighs, hopefully he could easily get through this beloved person sitting next to him.

His heart took a leap and his mind goes blank. He looks at Miong who's eyes were knowing and... familiar... something Pole has been scared to admit and face. "Señor presidente.." he wanted to ask... but nothing else came out.

*"you're absurd for the risk you take,"*

[Extra lol:

2 weeks ago, "pole?" "O?" "What do you think, are the rules I make ought to be broken by our workmen once I decided it firmly?"

Pole stops his writing and looks up shortly. He unconciously smiled. "You are still the last decision... I don't think that has come into your mind yet, Señor Presidente" Miong didn't change. He's still some strange child-man at times as if his mind goes off just to pull out a dumb question to ask to Pole to hold their daily conversation.]

You... foolish married of a man.... is this... what you really wanted to...

*thump* yet again, Pole is visited by the thoughts and his "delusional attachment" towards this man. His face was red like the fabric of their flag. His cheeks as warm as the cigarettes Miong always wraps his lips around. The breeze as suddenly humid like how Miong's breaths hits his nape whenever he leans in to watch what he does. Was it still a mystery... or was he just... denying how trench-deep his heart is shoveling itself into just by meeting those rich brown eyes.

It's stuck with me while I'm working!! jshfkdjfj I wonder what was Mabini's reaction on that tho 👁️👁️

Can we get possible sequel please 🥺🙏🏼

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Aguinaldo leans from a balcony... 1937, it's been 2 years since he lost to Manuel Quezon in presidency of the new government.. and... 34 years since... he last stood side by side with his secretary, who was full of wit on advices as they lead their compatriots together.

He puffs out some cigar's smoke... listening to the screams and laughters of kids outside his mansion. He pulls away, walking deeper into the room, sitting on a rocking chair, swinging his problems away.... the same way... he would see Pole ponder by a nearby window, either reading his favorite novels, or appreciating the view... that Miong has always thought... was as pretty as him.

As if Pole sitting by a window is an obra maestra that no one in his eyes could ever compare with. His tired, old eyes lifted its gaze, following the pocket watch that he refused to not look at no matter how many clocks he's bought and put around the house. The clock he refused to let go nor stopping on basing his time on no matter how many hours it was behind. The effort to memorize his routine and the sun's shine, just because he no longer wants to look at any clock but what's in his old, veiny hand.

"I wonder if you'd like this sovereignty.. that our men had worked hard for us to finally achieve, Pole," he murmurs along with the cold breeze, his thumb caressing the fading... small cut out picture plastered inside the pocket watch's cover.

He closes his eyes as if in the breeze, he felt the familiar weight on his shoulders and the perfect tune of a hum, as if it was just like yesterday.

Aguinaldo gazes back to the study housing an Apolinario Mabini busy of reading some books. The silhouette of the man seated by the window is now trapped in his mind.

The yearning for warmth that they can't express freely, lingers in the air.

___________________________________________

Reviewing the constitution January 20, 1899

Mabini's mind drifts from paper to paper. His forehead and brows frowning and meeting every now and then. Rubbing his temples here and there.

Miong nervously pretends to write, knowing his delegates were holding back something to say. Mabini sighs internally, what's the point of breaking an egg's shell if it's hard boiled inside.

Until, one of the papers caught his eyes. He abruptly looks at Miong who gazes back with a knowing look, figured that Mabini already saw.