Strings Of Perfection

33

We stayed like that, tangled in silence, sa gilid ng hallway ng detention room. Everyone else had already left, but neither of us moved. I didn’t care if someone saw us. I didn’t care if someone judged. Ang mahalaga, nandito ako. At andito siya.

"You always say the right things," he murmured, his voice low, steady---but his grip on me said otherwise. "Even when I don't need to hear it."

“That’s the thing, Sylas. Alam kong iniisip mo na kailangan mong maging perpekto sa lahat ng oras, pero hindi mo kailangang maging okay palagi. You can be a fucking mess and I’ll still choose you. Every goddamn time.”

His eyes flickered. This was the closest I’ve ever seen him to breaking.

And fuck, I liked it. Not because he was in pain, but because I finally saw the raw parts he kept hidden. The pieces no one else got to see.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply like he was trying to absorb every word I said. His fingers, still gripping the hem of my hoodie, tightened ever so slightly.

There was a part of me that wanted to say more. To tell him that I was fucking terrified of whatever was going on between us. But I didn’t. This wasn’t the time. Hindi pa.

I held Sylas for a few more moments before I felt the need to shift, to move. Nag-aatubili akong humiwalay, ang mga kamay ko ay dahan-dahang dumudulas sa kanyang likod, nang hindi ko sinasadyang mapahawak sa kanyang bewang.

At the contact, he winced slightly, his body tensing, but I didn’t think much of it at first---until I saw the stain.

There, on his side, where his uniform clung tighter to his body, was a fresh stain of blood. Red, still dark, but already seeping through the fabric. My heart slammed against my chest, and I felt my stomach churn.

“Shit, Sylas...”

His expression faltered, but he quickly masked it, straightening up with an attempt to brush it off. But the moment I saw the blood, everything else faded. That scar... Fresh pa.

"I’m fine---"

"We’re getting you cleaned up. Ngayon na."

While we walked to the store, my mind raced. As much as I wanted to say I wasn’t scared, I was. Hindi ko maiiwasang mapaisip kung... hindi ako sapat.

Am I not enough to make him think he deserves better than this? To make him feel like maybe he should stay... kasama ako...?

Pagdating namin sa store, I rushed in and grabbed band-aids, antiseptic, gauze pads. I couldn’t look at him. Hindi ko kayang tingnan ang mukha niya at makita siyang ganito.

His eyes met mine, the usual guarded expression there, but his voice wavered for a moment. "Baby, I---"

"Tigil." I said it firmly. "'wag na. I won’t let you do this alone."

Sylas hesitated for a moment before letting me approach. He raised his shirt, revealing the wound. The scars. His scars.

Hindi ko magawang umiwas ng tingin. There was a part of me that felt so fucking useless in this moment, feeling like maybe I’m not enough to fix him, to soothe him.

Pero hindi ko 'yon ipinakita. I had to do this for him. Hindi 'to tungkol sa kung anong nararamdaman ko. It was about making sure he was okay. So, I focused on cleaning the wound as gently as I could .

“Déjà vu...” bigla niyang bulong na nagpatigil sakin.

“Ano?"

“This... This feels familiar. Something like this happened before.”