4:20 am
Death-Called called Rafael Custado at 1:47 am to tell him he was going to die today. He had been wandering around the city ever since.
The last rational thing in his mind was drinking to a stupor, which was, ironically, irrational. It was probably because he could never come back to his hometown.
He will miss Iloilo and all the beauty they had to offer. He will miss his girlfriend. He will even miss his ex-girlfriend and her daughter. But he will not miss the child support that came after him screwing up.
And he would not miss himself, for being such a terrible person.
But none of that mattered when he was stumbling along the empty streets of Cebu, the sounds of the city turning into a blur like his surroundings.
He had bumped to several people, but the oddest one being a guy younger than me, holding a green bag. He couldn't remember his face, but he remembered asking him if he wanted to drink with him.
He asked that to everyone he bumped to. Because even if he hated himself with the whole fiber of our being, he didn't want to die alone.
No one did.
-
In his last moments, he found himself stumbling into a bar. Unlike the other bars in his experience, this one was laid-back, had a lack of LED lights and noise, and felt more like a cafe than a bar.
Still, there were people. People he didn't care about and people who wouldn't care about him. Perfect.
But they did turn around when he was rambling and muttering to himself.
Rafael stumbled to the bartender, who had their edge of their lip turned up.
"Naa moy San Mig?" he muttered under a stupor. He lazily pulled up a chair and sat down.
"We have stronger ones," the bartender replied with a certain edge to their voice. He raised an eyebrow when Rafael couldn't answer.
". . .Fine. Usa ka Red Horse be. I'll take your whole bot--hic!"
"All right." He pointed at the door behind him. The supply of drinks, probably. "I'll get you some cold ones."
"Yes! Yes!" he raved, doing several hand gestures with his hands.
Rafael suddenly turned to his right and raised a middle finger to the couple side-eyeing him. "Tangina n'yo. I may look stupid, but--hic--at least I--I have confi--hic--dence."
Then he heard a bottle slammed on the table, along with a glass. "Enjoy your drink, sir," the bartender said.
Rafael took one good look at him, then at the glass. He took the bottle, popped it open, and drank it dry.
"Hic! I must say. . ."
His vision doubled and swam. He gave a twisted smile. "You're pretty cute today, barten--hic!"
The bartender was oddly silent. "Would you like another drink?"
"Yes, and you too, please," he replied.
He laughed, the sound echoing around Rafael's head. "I'm afraid that it won't be possible."
The world began to spin around him. His shoulders drooped and his eyelids were heavy, as if an invisible force was pinning him down. "Dizzy. . .hic!"
He put his arms on the table and his head over it. "I think I'm. . .gonna. . .rest for a while. . .hic."
He closed his eyes.
He would never open them again.