today, the absence of stacey’s laughter made gwen look up from her book.
it took a minute for gwen to decipher that stacey was quietly sleeping on the sofa just across from her.
the sight of stacey all curled up— because the couch can’t completely hold her— was adorable.
she was so still, gwen thought, contrary to the usual who finds humor in every little thing.
or the ability to make gwen giggle, sigh lovingly, shake her head and burst with laughter.
she must’ve been tired and gwen was elated stacey’s sleeping nowhere other than her own-brought sofa— one that witnessed everything between them.
the curve on gwen’s lips doesn’t stop carving on her face as stacey’s serene stupor engraves all over her.
it took also a minute for gwen to have an epiphany under the starless ceiling.
and it wasn’t because it’s nearing 12 o'clock that the outside world starts to light up.
no, it wasn’t because it’s december and everything is turning into an unforgettable memory.
and it certainly wasn’t because it’s new year’s eve that people agreed to wait for the time.
but somehow these are happening today.
and gwen realized she wasn’t captivated by any of those.
because gwen’s attracted to the way someone would willingly wear someone else’s clothes, which actually doesn’t fit them but instead creates a whole new version of themselves with it. and yet at the same time, it can’t change their true identity.
and how fortunate that it was stacey all along, and her hair that hugged her face, breathing evenly?
gwen couldn’t help touching stacey’s bare face thinking how it belonged to her palm perfectly.
“ang ganda ganda mo, lindtsey.”
gwen whispers, as she tucked a strand of stacey’s hair behind her ears.
there are days when gwen chafes at the love she was capable of giving. for what she knew, it’s not a calling she dreamed of answering and a profession she considered qualified for either. yet being in love and loving stacey has been specially designed for her; sometimes it’s bewildering and marvelous and sometimes agonizing.
“mahal na mahal kita, stacey.”
gwen murmured so softly before reaching for stacey’s hand and feeling it on her own cheeks.
gwen leaned in on it, like she was afraid that it might slip out of her grasp.
because gwen’s existence oscillates between freedom and loneliness— lulled only by the tune of the music, her fleeing thoughts and a family that wasn’t even complete in the first place.
this universe of incompleteness has damaged gwen completely— the absence of her father only becoming the presence of something unfulfilled that she searched for everywhere.
nothing soothed it until stacey came— with the same story.
gradually, this universe was replaced by familiarity and acceptance— one that stacey turned soft, safe, and cozy.
and for the first time, gwen had a choice to be free— to be free with stacey without feeling lonely.
“till forever, aubrey.”
gwen let the names linger in the air, silently bragging to the intangible how grateful she is to have known stacey’s name.
albeit stacey’s name was lengthy (as it was pointed out every time someone founds out) gwen couldn’t help to be fond of it.
she loves it for the simple reason that it only belongs to one heart, one brain, one pair of eyes and one lips.
gwen likes to think the reason people who have longer names was to bring the existence of all the versions of themselves.
and the reason stacey has three, gwen believed, was because if sometimes stacey’s not feeling being ‘stacey’, she can be ‘lindtsey’ or ‘aubrey’ instead, and gwen will still love her completely.
and if there will be a time when gwen could not say “i love you,” she will speak of stacey’s name instead; like ‘lindtsey’ was for “i,” ‘stacey’ was for “love” and ‘aubrey’ was for “you.”
and so, gwen’s universe just sat on the corner of the cosmos, eroding into a punchline as she carries stacey on their bed.
because now she inhabits stacey’s— where her soul revolves solely.
where stacey’s body matched the strength of gwen’s grasp.
where stacey’s arm are wrapped on gwen’s shoulders.
and where stacey’s head was snuggled deep into the dip of gwen’s neck as she walked up the stairs.
so yes, gwen doesn’t fell in love with everything grandeur tonight.
because stacey is simple—
and she doesn’t let go even though she felt the mattress on the back of her head.
because stacey is simple—
because the only time she would retrieve her arms was when gwen would kiss her.
it is late now, and stacey’s eyes flutter open to someone else’s warm breath: gwen and her tilted body facing her.
it’s stacey’s turn now to fathom all of gwen,
as the shape of gwen’s nose, lips, eyes and brows are illuminated by the warm light of the lamp.
and love.
stacey understood it not in the way it is beautiful.
instead, for her, love is everything she can’t understand.
or it was her mother’s endless “because he loves us” answer whenever she asked about her father.
though stacey knew he loved another girl instead.
this broke stacey’s perception of love.
but gwen happened.
and showed stacey what she doesn’t know instead.
and stacey found a universe to share herself with.
love, from gwen to stacey, was eating tinola and sinigang even though her tongue despised the bland flavor of tinola and the sour savour of sinigang that hurt her cheeks.
love, from stacey to gwen, was cooking adobo regardless of her unexplained distaste for it because it was gwen’s favorite.
and for gwen and stacey, to love is not just to be seen.
it’s to love is to stay even when we couldn’t see right through the other’s love for another thing.
stacey trails the arms of gwen and shoulder until she reaches her neck where her thumb rest to caress the sharp jawline.
“i swear, i couldn’t love you more than i do right now…”
yet stacey knows she will tomorrow.
as she traces gwen’s eyebrow then her nose down to her philtrum before resting her finger on her lips, thinking how gwen looks like she was fated to be held by her.
“mahal na mahal din kita.”
and perhaps this is how the whole enormous world can be created out of eleven consonants and eight vowels.
and these, the author believed, was the unconsciousness of people living in the moment.
or in this story, was two women unconsciously loving each other.