"Umm ... I don't know if she's going to like this one ... ugh, this is harder than I thought!"
Shafiq groans as I scan through my bookshelf, picking a book only to put it back. "Just pick anything."
"I can't pick just anything! What if she gives me a really cool ass book and I only end up giving her some last season release?"
"Dude ... she's going to be fine," Shafiq replies. "Just give her, like, The Hunger Games or something."
I scowl. "Hunger Games? Dude, everyone has read that one."
"I haven't." Shafiq continues tapping and pressing on his Switch.
"You've watched the movies-never mind." I settled on choosing They Both Die at the End for Kayla, because I feel like that's one of the appropriate choices I have on my shelf. She did request to read something a little gay, and I'm lacking those kinds of books in my collection. That's when I realize about the scarcity of queer books in the long list of novels I read.
"You get along with Luq's sister pretty fast, huh?"
It started when we returned back from the trip. I stayed over at Luqman's place and attended to Kayla watching her favorite shows-she made me watch a wide range of TV from anime like Attack on Titans to BL dramas like Gaya Sa Pelikula. I don't know if she has a natural affinity to boys' love like a lot of young teenagers nowadays, or if it's just her scheme to get along with me.
Either way, it's a sweet gesture. I just got along with it and we ended up exchanging numbers. Kayla's really keen on texting me memes, fancams, and Internet slangs that I struggle understanding. Thank God Elena helps me out sometimes.
Now we're headed out to send Luqman off to KLIA for his next shift. He'll have a long shift due to his emergency leave, so Juwita wants us to have lunch at the airport shopping mall before he departs. Kayla wants to exchange some books, but I insist we make it a book swap instead, although I have nothing specific in mind that I want her to check out.
"Oh ... I've actually read this one!" she says as I hand her my pick. "I think it went viral on TikTok once."
"Oh, shoot!" I blurt out. "I should've known that you must've read this one already. So sorry, Kay."
"It's alright, Abang Adam! No worries! I just really want you to read this." She hands me a pink linen bag so small that it only covers the outside of the book, decorated with miniature artwork of unicorns. I take it from her and unfurl the bag away, and almost gasp as I hold the hardcover in my hand.
"It's The Song of Achilles," I gasp. "I've been meaning to get this forever."
"It's yours." Kayla beams at my speechlessness. I can feel my face warming as I run my hands around the coarse surface of the hardcover, its gold foil stamp shining under the bright lights of the restaurant. I can't catch my breath.
Our waiter arrives with our meals-Juwita insists I try the steak here, which is her favorite to order whenever she sends Luqman off. As much as the peppery beef scent makes my stomach growl, I still can't take my eyes off the book. "Kayla ... I can't. This must've cost a fortune."
"No, please!" she insists. "You have to have this! In a condition that you must read it, Abang Adam. It's a crime that you haven't gotten around to reading this masterpiece yet!"
I turn to her and give her a sideway hug. "You're precious!" I say. "And please! Save your money for something else, Kay. Don't spend it on me!"
"Well ... technically, it's Ma's money-"
"And she just needs a reason to buy that edition, Adam," Juwita butts in. "She's read her own battered copy many times, but insists on not buying a new one although she wants to."
"I think owning multiple copies of a book isn't going to help the environment ... the surplus is unnecessary." She takes the book from my hand and twists it around in hers. "I have spent enough time with this special edition copy for two nights, and it's nice to know someone who will actually read it owns it, Ma."
"Yes, sweetheart," Juwita says, caressing her back.
"Yay!" Luqman says. "He likes it, Kay! Now pressure's on me to get something he likes better."
"Nothing can beat this," I say to Luqman as I sip my iced lemon tea. "Sorry, Luq."
"Unless it's an engagement ring," Juwita says casually.
I choke on the iced tea as Luqman gasps beside me.
"Ma!" he says, and Juwita laughs.
"What?" she says. "It's a long shot here, of course. But you can always migrate, Luqman Ahmad Tajuddin."
Luqman looks literally everywhere but my eyes. "Not in front of him, Ma!"
Kayla giggles next to me. "Ma, that would be great, wouldn't it? To attend a gay marriage! I've always seen gay proposals on YouTube and cry every single time!"
"I'm all for you settling for something that makes you happy, Luqman," Juwita adds. "And I'm not going to be around forever. You have to find someone that can take care of you."
Luqman doesn't respond. I don't know how to advance after that. So I just take a nibble at my steak and try not to make eye contact with Juwita. Juwita, who has an idea that I have a fling with his son. Who doesn't seem to mind.
My heart soars at this. I never thought I would live through such a moment, something I've only witnessed in Western movies and books. I think about my own parents, and how I ironically don't wish that they're anybody different. There are some parts of me that they won't understand, and I have to live with that. But if I were to be with Luqman, Juwita looks like an option I can fall back to. That thought is both unhelpful and comforting at the same time because I'm not certain if I'm the one Luqman will settle down with. Despite everything that went on in our short vacation in Ipoh, there was no reassurance to be certain.
But whatever happens between us, it's a comfort to know that Luqman will have his mother's blessing, whoever he chooses to be with.
I've never really given a thought about how I'd react to Luqman departing. He has left offshore several times before, but something about the atmosphere here that makes me choke in tears. The repeated announcements of delayed flights and opened gates, the rushing passengers around us with their carry-on luggage, and the vastness of this international airport makes Luqman leaving feels ... real. I've never felt like he's away before because our physical interaction has already been limited because of his work schedule. It makes me realize that a distance will part us for some time and being oceans away from him will make the yearning a bit hard to deal with. Especially now that I'm used to his smiles, his gentle touches, and the way he likes to whisper endearment and soft things in my ears.
He hugs Juwita and Kayla first before he approaches me, his height looming over my head. His sad puppy eyes are shadowed by the front of his peaked cap, but I can see them clearly, and the way they're clouded tugs at my heartstrings. Although Kayla and Juwita are here watching us, they allow us enough space to make me feel like I'm alone with Luqman. I eye him up and down, all handsome in his white uniform, perfectly fit to his figure.
I inhale deeply as if it's going to fend off the tears threatening to fall down my eyes. Instead, I smoothen and rearrange his drooping shoulder boards, each containing three lines that indicates his work position. He scrunches his face and looks down at his shoes.
"Hey," I whisper. "Don't be like this, pup."
"I'm going to miss you," he says. "I'll miss you a lot, and I'll miss being with you all the time. This sucks."
"We'll see each other soon, okay?" I brave myself to touch his face gently, and that forces his eyes to lock in mine. "Let's Skype each other daily, and that way you won't even feel like I'm away."
Then he sniffles abruptly, and I see a river of tears falling down his face. "It's not going to be the same."
"Hey-hey!" I caress his back and pull him in an embrace. "It's going to be okay, baby. Don't worry."
He forces a laugh out as he pulls back, smiling as he looks away like he's embarrassed. "I -I don't know why I did that! God, I'm such a baby. I'm sorry, love."
"You are," I tell him and pat his uniform to tidy him up a bit. "And you are my favorite baby, okay?"
He takes my hand and places it in his face. He nods, giving me his adorable smiles. "Okay. Promise you'll be here when I'm home?"
I swallow and push a grin out of my face. Even though I don't know what's going to happen in three months, I insist on giving him reassurance. "I promise."
The first week is a torture.
Luqman has just faced a terrible confrontation with the upper management. They were making a big deal of his abrupt leave taking the other day, and he couldn't do anything about it. Every now and then, I had to see him weep and break down in front of my phone screen, because he missed me a lot, and he wanted nothing other than seeing me.
I find myself running out of words whenever we get to moments like this, so I just stay there sometimes, watching as his face relaxes and his breathing even. We switch to FaceTime just so he can hear me breathe right next to him, like we're at each other's side.
Other days, updating our goings-on has become a daily routine. It will all end with us sleeping on the phone-most of the time, he'll fall asleep first. His light snores have become a comforting sound, because I feel at ease knowing he has dozed off peacefully amidst his hectic work schedule. Since we're not the best at talking each other out whenever we're in our feelings, we agree on watching Netflix shows or our favorite YouTube channels together through online meeting rooms. We take turns picking what to watch, and it helps us distract from yearning way too much about each other.
"I can't believe you've never watched any Ghibli before!" he says as we're in the middle of Spirited Away. "At least this you've gotta at least watch this one. They're iconic!"
"I'm sorry!" I tell him. "I'm sorry that I'm such a basic bitch thinking the only animated films worth watching are from Disney!"
"You should be ashamed of yourself."
I take a peek at Luqman from a small rectangular viewing panel on the right corner of the screen, and it's the first time in a month I've seen lit up like his usual self.
On the fourth day of our Studio Ghibli marathon, I'm so engrossed in Howl's Moving Castle that I barely hear Luqman's passing commentary and musings from my earphones.
"This ... this is even better!" I tell Luqman when the credits roll on my screen. "Totally my favorite so far."
"My favorite is still Ponyo, and I'm appalled that we're not on the same page about this." Luqman crosses his arm and rolls his shoulder, so prideful and unsatisfied that we're not in common when it comes to favorite Studio Ghibli films.
"Ponyo is strange, but I understand why that's your favorite coming from the kind of character that you are."
"Excuse me," Luqman says, baffling as he faces closer to the screen to lock gazes at me. "Ponyo is high art."
"It is for a baby like you, sweetheart," I mutter.
"I hate you."
We're on Princess Mononoke when I notice the familiar clouds in Luqman's eyes. He becomes wordless, has less to say in our viewing (which he prefaces as his second favourite Studio Ghibli film), and keeps looking more at me from his screen than the actual movie. When I turn to gaze at him on the screen, he pouts.
"What's wrong, baby?" I ask. "Something wrong with work again?"
"Hmm, not really," he says. "It's just ... it's just ..." His words are drowned in his long sighs, and I wish I could reach over into the screen to pull him into my arms.
"What is it?" I say. "You wanna talk? Or you wanna watch something else?" Yesterday, we binge-watched videos from a YouTube channel that does a taste test on different military ready-to-eat rations, which is my choice of viewing for the night. He seemed fine then, surprised that there were viewers who'd be interested in exploring such niche areas of food.
Now it seems like he's back to square one.
I can only stare as he shakes his head and hugs himself in his office chair. "I love this film. I really think this suits your alley the most, and I'm thrilled for you to see it." Luqman gulps down and takes a deep breath. "I just wish I'm seeing this with you. Next to you."
"Luqman ..." I start. "Don't be like that. Soon enough you'll find yourself here and I promise I'll rewatch this all over again with you, alright?"
There's a smidge of smile when he hears that, and I feel the knots in my guts loosen just a bit. "Really? You'd do that for me?"
"Yes, baby."
"We'd snuggle and cuddle and kiss all night while Princess Mononoke is playing on the TV?"
"And we'll make a challenge," I say. "Try to commit and watch it till the very end without ending up eating each other's faces."
"I think I'm going to lose," Luqman says.
Work, on the other hand, has been a great distraction on my end. In our second month apart, I'm tasked to handle several projects and training which I'd usually detest. Maryam is being a nuisance as usual, slacking off with excuses that the fact I'm younger makes me more skilled to handle certain work portfolios.
I brave myself through them anyway instead of confronting the issue that would delay the work even more. But knowing I can get home to be with Luqman is a great motivator for me to finish them, since I always have the urge to clear everything on my plate before being fully present just for him.
There are days where I feel like the sky is crashing down on me whenever Luqman can't be on a call, usually due to issues relating to his Internet reception out in the sea. Which is totally not anyone's fault, but I keep cursing the world for it. This is when I know that being longer with Luqman does turn me into a baby as well.
There's a countdown app on my phone screen now, something that Luqman urges me to do. About twenty-five days before he'll finally finish his shift, he invites me on a group phone call, which turns out to be his rugby pals. I grunt to myself and curse at him by messaging him on the side, and he finds that entertaining. I just want to see u, he replies, and that's fair. Because he does need time with his friends, but still care to have me around.
They're streaming an Australian rugby match, which turns out to be the cup grand finale that night. When I enter the virtual room, the boys holler all at once as a way to acknowledge my presence.
Ilham is the most enthusiastic. "Wah, lookie here! It's Minho's scandalous companion!"
"I advise all jealous singletons in this room to shut up," I respond, and the whole room explodes in laughter to my retort.
"Wow, how could you, Adam?" Ilham replies. "Going for the low-blow!"
The interaction doesn't get weird or go the harmful way, fortunately. I ended up dismissing my own laptop to join Shafiq watching the match from his computer in the room next door. Of course, I understand nothing while the boys scream and shout-at one point, Shafiq flies out of his seat screaming as their favorite team earns a touchdown. I am just starry-eyed gazing at Luqman's lively face throughout this game, and it warms my heart.
I don't know to what extent these boys know about Luqman and me, but they keep on teasing us since they saw his Instagram stories. I know that some of them don't think we're knee-deep in our relationship, because everyone assumes everyone to be straight in this world. However, maybe thinking no one assumes anything about us is simply what I want to believe-some of them might have suspicions about us already, but just decided not to be assholes in public about it.
Or maybe Luqman is still The Minho to them-an untouchable rugby god that could do no wrong in his choices, whatever they might be.
Either way, what I have with Luqman is something that should only matter to us. I can also give a benefit of the doubt to these former Putra Wira sports heroes, assuming that they're better versions of themselves now. They may not agree with the truth about Luqman, but one, he has enough people who are okay with it, like Shafiq and me. And two, the boys really don't have to. As long as they're able to mind their own business, I think we will be okay.
I am enjoying the banters and commentary from them so far because it brings back the bittersweet moments of living communally with my schoolmates. I remember the boys flooding the common area in our dormitory block during football season, all crammed into each other to watch the matches from an old television there that was suspended from the ceiling. Ikhwan, Saiful and I were definitely not among them, but those moments were atmospheric enough to be my core memory.
I smile through it all, and more so to Luqman stealing glances at me, giving me winks and grins once in a while to tease me. He knows I'm panicky whenever he flirts around me in public, especially in front of the boys, which is why he keeps doing it. I flip him the finger a few times only to have him stick out his tongue back at me.
Yep, I think we're screwed. The boys will definitely find out soon.
I'm mostly distracted with Luqman's antics, until a message from an unknown number pops up. From the notification bar, I notice there are several pictures attached to it.
I browse through the message without opening it, and rather than being an unknown number, it's a contact that I've long removed. Someone who has successfully kept a distance from me for almost a year now.
I feel cold sweat forming in my head, fearing that I will once again confront Shawn for whatever reason he's onto right now. Shawn, who I struggled hard to forgive and forget, but could casually walk again into my life uninvited like this.
I pushed through six whole months in darkness trying to get him off my life after what he did. At one point, I could only breathe easy when he gave up. But now he's back.
Will we be on that dreadful page again? Am I about to face the fights, the all-caps text messages, the unthoughtful triggering things he would spew at me?
Shivers electrify my whole being. I feel dizzy and I think I can faint in a few moments.
U okay bb? Luqman immediately picks up on this, and I don't realize he can do so. More reason for me to be anxious-I don't want to worry him for such things.
I get away from the computer to leave the room. I should've fucking blocked him, I think to myself. I should've known it'd come down to this.
There are three pictures in the message. They're all screenshots of Luqman's Instagram stories.
In one picture, Luqman and I pose for a selfie, our eyes squeezed shut by our cheeks, smiling as the sun sets behind us on the horizon where the ocean lies wide.
Another is just a shot of me standing on the platform of the Kuala Lumpur railway station, staring into the rail with my hands holding the straps of my backpack.
And the last one is a shot where Luqman lies his head on my shoulder when I have long fallen asleep in our train home.
Beneath the attachment, Shawn writes: What a lucky guy, huh?