buang (ng wika)
“Wait lang, I'm just making asikaso something in the banyo.”
“Alright.” Sergio simply says, eyeing his best friend’s bare back, blatantly displayed from the wide open bathroom door. Manoy’s movements are sharp and heavy at the same time, propelled onward by an angry energy. He’s making tampo and Sergio would roll his eyes if he weren’t the cause.
“Is something the matter?” he asks, instead, trying not to laugh when Manoy temporarily sputters in indignation before continuing his little beauty routine, running a comb through his floofy hair.
“Wala. Nothing.” Manoy replies, through poorly concealed gritted teeth. “Why? Do I look like I’m making dabog? I’m not making dabog. Swear.”
Sergio feels the corners of his lips curl up in a small smile, amused. For a short second, he contemplates putting off the surprise for a little while longer, just to hear Manoy butcher both the English and Filipino language further (perhaps, if he played his cards right, he’d get him to say “You’re acting like such a nakakainis na dumi” again), but then his best friend very nearly throws down his Bulgari cologne bottle (his most prized possession) in irritation, and Sergio thinks-- 6 billion people, and I’m in love with this baby damulag?
“Hey.” Sergio says when Manoy finally whirls around to look at him. He’s glaring one of those reserved for unfair profs glares again, and it would be a little frightening if there wasn’t such a clear undercurrent of hurt simmering beneath. “What?”
“You forgot.” Manoy whines, like a kicked puppy. “We’ve been sending each other cards every year since we were ten, but now that we’re here and actually together, Serg, you fucking forgot.”
He shakes his head. “What makes you think I forgot?”
Manoy throws his gaze to the floor. “Where were you this morning, then?” he demands, the glare gone, replaced by such a lost look. “I woke up to check on you and you weren’t anywhere.”
Sergio swallows, heart lodged in his throat. He’s always the first person on Manoy’s mind in the morning, and although he’s convinced Manoy does this with everyone, it’s still something Sergio isn’t used to.
“I went out.” he explains, taking a step forward, and another when Manoy makes no move to pull away. He’s standing there, rigged, and Sergio reaches out to cup the back of his head. He wants to put the hand on Manoy’s cheek, but he resists the urge and instead gives Manoy’s nape an affectionate squeeze. “I went out to get your gift.”
His best friend perks up at the mention, wariness written in his eyes. “What?”
“I couldn’t pick it up yesterday, so I had Carlos get it for me.” Sergio explains, smiling when Manoy begins to relax, leaning into the touch of his hand. “He thinks it’s a good gift-- ‘It’ll satisfy his need to play god' that’s what he said.”
Manoy frowns. “Carly is so nice.”
“He is.” Sergio agrees, removing his hand. Immediately, Manoy whines at the loss of contact, and Sergio grins, bringing out the parcel from behind his back. It’s a rectangular gift, wrapped in manila paper with unintelligible words scribbled across one side-- plain, really, but Manoy’s eyes light up when he sees it, like he had just been presented the most precious thing on the face of the earth.
Instantly, Sergio feels sheepish.
“It isn’t much,” he says, when his best friend takes it from him and starts ripping through the paper. He steels himself for disappointment, and shoves his hands in his pockets. “You just kept on complaining about your chess board and how you keep losing pieces so I got you this magnetic one--”
Before he can finish, he’s wrapped in a tight, tight hug.
“I love it.” Manoy says, the words a soft whisper in the crook of Sergio’s neck. “You’re amazing.”
Sergio colours, but he wraps his arms around his best friend anyway, careful to forget that fact that the other boy is pretty much half-naked, and rests his chin on Manoy’s shoulder.
“I could never forget you.” he says, feeling a little breathless. “Happy birthday, you ass.”
Manoy laughs and hugs him a little closer.
