CHAPTER 3

The rain had thickened into a silver wall by midafternoon, drumming against the rusted awning with a relentless metallic rhythm that swallowed every other sound. Beyond the shelter, the fields dissolved into blurred strokes of green and gray, the distant trees reduced to shadows behind the storm. Tasyo sat on an overturned crate, rubbing dried mud from his boots, when footsteps splashed through the soaked earth, while he tried very hard not to think about the fact that his pulse still behaved strangely whenever Isidro looked at him for too long. It came back to him—the way Isidro had looked at him with exhaustion. He hadn't talked with Isidro after that argument because he mostly didn't want Isidro to think of him as an annoying person. Maybe he probably did now.

A few minutes later, he heard footsteps splashing through waterlogged earth again. He looked up to find Isidro making his way toward him with a thermos and paper cups in his hands, his shirt damp at the shoulders.

"Hey."

Tasyo gave him a nod.

"You'll get sick sitting there," Isidro said. Tasyo smiled faintly—this was nothing new to him, though Isidro didn't know that. Steam unfurled into the cold air as Isidro poured and held a cup out to Tasyo.

"Where did you get that?" Tasyo asked.

"I have my ways," Isidro teased. Tasyo rolled his eyes, chuckling as Isidro said, "Just take it, don't split hairs over it. I brought it with me."

Tasyo looked at Isidro as he wrapped his hands around the cup. Warmth swept through his chilled skin, sinking into his palms and wrists like a slow tide. The coffee smelled of roasted cacao and brown sugar, rich and comforting against the scent of rain-soaked earth. Tasyo took a sip, blinked, then stared at the cup. "This is so good." A flicker of satisfaction crossed Isidro's face. "I know."

For a while they sat shoulder to shoulder, listening to the rain cascade from the roof in shimmering sheets. The coffee radiated heat into Tasyo's hands, and the silence between them felt strangely easy. Eventually he exhaled and turned the cup slowly between his fingers. "I owe you an apology," he said.

Isidro glanced at him over the rim of his own cup. "For what?"

"I think I've made things difficult for you."

Something shifted in Isidro's expression. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Tasyo laughed softly and shook his head. "When I met you, I decided who you were before I knew anything about you. I thought if I listened long enough, I'd eventually discover I was right—that you were nothing more than a pretty face."

Rain hissed against the fields.

"And?" Isidro asked. His composure didn't break, but there was a quiet pause, as though he was carefully following where the conversation was going.

"And I don't know, okay. But I do know why I did it—just to prove it to myself."

"Prove what, Tasyo?" Isidro asked. "That I'm nothing more than a pretty face?"

"Yes." Tasyo closed his eyes, the warmth of the coffee grounding him. He thought he would be embarrassed, but he wasn't. Maybe because he wasn't a boy anymore, getting shy of his feelings and emotions. The only uncertainty was how Isidro would react, but Tasyo had already learned that in anything and everything in life, there would always be a variable of uncertainty.

"Why?"

"Because I found you attractive," Tasyo sighed.

"Okay."

"It's just that my past relationships are…"

The corner of Isidro's mouth lifted. "You don't have to explain. I get the idea." He looked back toward the storm and continued, "Usually, from my experience, people see what they need to see. Very few people see what's actually there."

Tasyo studied him for a moment. "And what do people usually see when they look at you?" The question lingered. Thunder rolled somewhere far away.

"Whatever makes them comfortable," Isidro said at last. "The quiet man. The serious man. The reliable man. People prefer versions of you they can understand quickly." He took a slow sip of coffee. "It's easier than admitting someone might be more complicated than the story they've already written about them."

Tasyo said, "You sound exhausted."

"I am," Isidro admitted. "Not of people. Just of being translated… I get that you don't know people unless you try to get to know them, but I don't understand why they tend to fill in the blanks with what they think."

The answer settled between them like another layer of rain. Tasyo lowered his gaze to the coffee, watching steam curl from the cup.

"I get what you are saying, but for me, I think I spent most of my life doing the opposite," he said. "Trying to explain myself."

Isidro looked at him. "Did it work?"

Tasyo laughed under his breath. "Never." His heart began to quicken, tightening subtly in his chest. The warmth of the cup had seeped so deeply into his hands that it felt like it lived beneath his skin now. "I always thought if I found the right words, people would finally understand me."

"And then?"

"Then I realized people don't understand you because you explain yourself well. They understand you because they want to." Isidro's expression softened. "That was a difficult thing to learn."

The rain eased slightly, shifting from a roar to a steady whisper. For a moment neither of them spoke. Then Tasyo looked out at the blurred landscape and asked quietly, "Do you ever get tired of being the person everyone depends on?"

The question caught Isidro off guard. He stared into his cup for a long moment before answering. "No idea, because I've never had anyone to depend on."

"How did it feel?"

"Lonely, unwanted, miserable… etc." After a beat, he added, "What about you?"

"Used."

They fell silent again, the kind of silence that didn't need words to fill it. The scent of coffee mingled with damp soil and cold rain, while warmth lingered stubbornly in their hands despite the chill around them.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***