May 8-9, 2010

At 14, life remained mostly the same for Joaquin. He was thriving in junior high school, excelling in his studies and forming new friendships. Yet, no matter how much his day varied, his evenings were the same—he'd head over to the Montez household for dinner and study sessions until it was time to leave for bed.

It took almost no effort for Julian and Lina to make Joaquin feel welcome–an honorary member–of their household. The day after their first meeting, Julian biked over to Joaquin's house to fetch him, calling out for him from the yard. Thankfully, Amelia wasn't around, but Joaquin was so scared he nearly lost his breath. He told Julian not to come again, promising he would go to the Montez home on his own instead.

The hardest part of Joaquin's day, therefore, was always bedtime. It meant leaving for a house where his mother barely noticed his absence. Still, he had to be home in the morning—that was the one rule.

Sometimes, he'd push the limits, like whenever Julian invited him for a sleepover. They'd lay in the dark, and Joaquin would force himself up by 4 AM, just before the roosters start crowing, and quietly head home. His house was a fifteen-minute walk or a five-minute bike ride away. But no matter what, he'd rather be at the Montez home than anywhere else.

"Boys, clean up. Dinner's almost ready," Lina said, standing over the table where notebooks and sheets of paper lay in disarray. Her eyes landed on Joaquin's work, and her eyebrows rose. "Excellent answers, as always."

Joaquin's cheeks reddened with pride. He'd always been strong in academics, but Tita Lina's praise made it feel even more gratifying. "Thank you, Teacher Lina."

"It's back to Tita Lina, remember?"

Lina had been Joaquin's class advisor in sixth grade, and favoritism was non-existent—his brilliance set him apart from the rest of his peers. Joaquin was driven and eloquent, graduating from elementary with the highest honors. She could see that with enough encouragement and support, he was destined for success. He would go to places and achieve far greater things.

Hence, it was heartbreaking to see him deprived of the recognition he rightfully deserved. Although Lina tried her best to fill the void, often urging her son to be thoughtful to Joaquin, she couldn't ignore the sadness in Joaquin's eyes, glistening with unshed tears when Amelia didn't attend the ceremony.

"How come you're only praising Joaquin?" Julian complained, waving his notebook impatiently. "I'm done, too!"

"Julian," she reprimanded gently. "You have to wait for your turn. Besides, what did I tell you about how to address Joaquin?"

Julian sulked, crossing his arms as his legs swung idly beneath him. "I'm not calling him Kuya. We're friends!"

(Kuya: A honorific that refers to an older male, usually used as a sign of respect)

"But he's older," she pointed out.

"So what? He was shorter than me last year."

Joaquin's mouth curved in amusement. "Well, that's not true anymore."

Lina's face softened yet remained firm. "Julian, calling him Kuya would make you like brothers. Isn't that something you'd want?"

Julian's mouth fell open at the suggestion. Why hadn't he thought of that?  Joaquin already felt like a brother to him. If they could adopt him, they would have—at least, that was what his mother had told him when he asked why Joaquin had to leave at night. They shared a bed and ate together. It was only last year when Joaquin started refusing to shower at the same time, saying he'd grown up.

"Okay, I will–"

"It's alright," Joaquin cut in, gathering his study materials and stuffing them into his worn-out backpack. "Julian can just call me by my name. It would be strange to switch it up now."

Lina let out a sigh of defeat. Well, she tried.

*******

"Are you planning to sneak out again?" Julian mumbled, his eyes fixed on the ceiling where glow-in-the-dark stickers forged a starry sky. The low hum of the electric fan filled the room, and the curtains billowed lightly with the soft gusts of wind.

Joaquin, also lying on his back, murmured, "Yeah. I'll be careful not to disturb you."

"I wish you wouldn't go."

Joaquin's smile came easily these days. "Me, too."

"Do you want me to start calling you Kuya?"

He took a moment to think before replying, unsure how it would affect their friendship. The age difference was evident; Joaquin had grown a couple of inches taller than Julian and wasn't as lean anymore. Using an honorific could create an unnecessary distance...

And Joaquin didn't like that. Julian was his best friend. He might still act immaturely, but he was undeniably his only best friend in the world.

"Not really...? I'm comfortable with what we have now."

"Are you sure? Mama seems to think it's important. And I guess you are really older than me. People might think I'm being rude..."

"Who cares what they think?"

"Don't you want to be like my brother?"

"Do you?"

Julian reflected for a moment, then answered flatly, "I don't know. Does that make a difference?"

"Don't stress about it. Let's go to sleep," Joaquin suggested, shutting his eyes. The next day was the weekend, and they were set to swim at the beach with the other local kids.

"Joaquin."

"Mm?"

"I think... I'm not like you," Julian whispered, pivoting to face Joaquin. He studied his friend's features, realizing how rapidly he had changed. Joaquin had gained some weight, and his voice was deeper. Even his pale complexion had taken on a subtle bronze hue, while Julian remained several shades darker.

"What do you mean, 'not like me'?"

"I might be... gay."

Joaquin's eyes shot open, glancing at Julian. "What do you mean? You're just... almost ten."

"And?" Julian snapped, teeth tight. "Can't I be ten and gay?"

Joaquin was bewildered, his mind buzzing with questions. "No, well, I mean... Are you like Daniel? Do you want to dress up like... a girl? Wear makeup at the festivals and dance in the parades and stuff?"

Julian hesitated shortly. "Not really," he murmured. "I don't like girl's clothing, especially skirts. How could I play comfortably in skirts?"

"Oh, okay...?" Joaquin said, not sure how to continue. He didn't know much about being gay. Daniel and his friends were his only frames of reference, and they were well-known in town for cross-dressing during gay pageants and the Biniray festival.

(Biniray festival: the annual religious and cultural festival in honor of Nuestro Señor Sto. Niño de Romblon held in Romblon)

Julian edged closer to Joaquin, his knees grazing his hip. "We're still friends, right?"

"Of course."

There was nothing–absolutely nothing–that could jeopardize their friendship.

"But Julian... if you don't want to act or dress like a girl, how do you know you're gay?"

Julian chuckled softly. "I'll tell you later."

******

Joaquin didn't take long to put the pieces together.

The next morning, as they made their way to Bonbon Beach, Julian's behavior was odd. He kept fidgeting with his shirt, and his gaze seemed unfocused. He was gnawing on his lip so hard that it looked like it would start bleeding soon.

"Are you feeling okay?" Joaquin asked, concerned. Was he upset over their conversation from the night before?

"Mm," Julian offered.

The sun beamed down, bathing the beach in a golden light that made the white sandbar appear like a shimmering bridge floating in the sea. Farther away, small islands were sprinkled across the horizon, each one rich with flora and life.

Joaquin was entranced. How had he ever been unwilling to live in this province? It was truly stunning. The chaos of the city, with its high-rise buildings, constant honking, and polluted air, paled in comparison.

"Julian! Joaquin!"

The shout came from a group of boys by the shoreline, engrossed in making sandcastles. It was Mark, one of Joaquin's classmates. He had hung out with them a few times, and Joaquin found him to be a good guy. Mark was diligent in school and constantly treated Julian well, often joking and speaking to him without regard for their age difference. That was what mattered most to Joaquin.

Mark called again, "Hurry up!"

Julian stiffened at once, and Joaquin picked up on it, catching the rosy hue on Julian's cheeks.

Julian came to a stop. "Uh, Joaquin..."

Joaquin stood still, feeling an unexpected heaviness in his muscles, as if he could anticipate what was coming and dreaded it. Was it a protective instinct? Perhaps, despite their lack of honorifics, he had come to care for Julian like his blood.

"Joaquin," Julian muttered again, pulling on his sleeve and urging him to pay attention.

"What?"

"This is how I know," he breathed out. "I have... a crush."

Joaquin couldn't find his voice, his attention drawn to Mark, who was waving as he approached.

"What do we do?" he murmured.

"Nothing. Act like you don't know."

"What do you mean—Hi, Mark," Joaquin mumbled, feeling the fine sand tickle his feet as he shuffled awkwardly.

"What's taking you guys so long?" Mark questioned, smiling widely. A competitive swimmer in their district, he stood at the same height as Joaquin, his skin displaying uneven tones. He draped his arms around their shoulders. "Let's go! The water is awesome today!"

He pulled them along, sharing stories that flew right over Joaquin's head. He glimpsed at Julian, who was listening intently, his wide eyes locked on Mark.

Joaquin found it all perplexing. It didn't make any sense.