"Happy birthday, Paris."

I was stoned. He greeted me. My eyes roamed to find a clock, at the center is a huge wall clock. It's six in the evening and someone is greeting me happy birthday.

"Why are you greeting me?" I asked, averting my gaze at him.

He frowned and twitched his lips. "Birthday mo, you should be greeted-"

"Tomorrow." I nodded. "People will start greeting me tomorrow."

"Hindi mo na birthday nun." Sabi pa niya.

"But it's Romee's birthday. She's my twin sister. We weren't born on the same day, I was born last minutes of October two and she came out first minutes of October three." I explained, why? I don't know. "Mom almost died giving birth to us, Romee almost died as well. Uncle Dave said that I was the only one who remained strong at the moment. And that my mom was proud of me. I didn't get any complications that Romee has, I don't even have allergies growing up. Just like my dad."

He tapped the vacant space beside him. "Come on, sit here. Are you sure you're not sick?"

"It's just rain." I said.

Naupo ako sa tabi niya. Siya nama'y binalingan ako. "So what do you wanna do to the last hours of your birthday?"

Marahan akong umiling. I've spent my birthday weeping over something that breaks my heart.

"Sige ganito nalang, may gusto ka bang kainin? You know I can cook, yung gusto mo iyon nalang ang i-dinner natin." He smiled.

Muli akong umiling. Hindi ako sanay ng ganito, hindi ako sanay ng pinaluluguran ako. I grew up being a wallflower, I didn't get much attention from my parents nor from anyone. I'm not saying that mom and dad loves me less, I'm saying that they have their favorites.

Dad loves Romee so much, all because she's Chiara Paula Dela Paz-De Salvo Santa de Leones in every inch. Especially with her blonde hair and purple-blue eyes. Which I envy so much. Because I, on the other hand looks so much like my dad. I even copied his dark eyes.

While mom's favorite is my brother, Reid. Hindi niya na kailangan pang sabihin iyon para malaman ko. Reid is Reid even before I was born, so I understand. Isa pa, my mom is my pillar of salt. Without her by my side, I can't possibly think what I would've done.

"Seryoso ka ba na walang bumabati sayo sa mismong araw ng birthday mo?" Tanong niya.

"Si mommy. Sila ni Romee." I answered. "Mom called me earlier to greet me good morning and happy birthday. I was so happy, I missed her so much that even the sound of her voice makes my day. But then when I went out of the room and passed by daddy's office this afternoon, I overheard him talking with Tito Tristan. He... He finally signed their annulment papers."

The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down my face. I feel the muscles of my chin tremble like a small child. I look up to the ceiling, as if the light could soothe me. There's static in my head once more, the side effect of this constant pain. Constant stress I live with. I hear my own sobs like a distress child, raw from the inside. It takes something out of me I didn't know I had left to give. That's the way it is when people are hard. It's like a theft of the spirit, an injury no other person can see.

"I hate my dad sometimes, but I never wished them to separate. I can't take the idea of my mother falling out of love, no way..." I shook my head. "I grew up seeing them together, a Lion can't live without his Lynx and I can't too.. I don't want them apart."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Paris."

"Hindi pwede. Ayoko." Like a stubborn child, I stomped my foot. "He can't do this! He can't let mom leave! Kahit wag nalang nila akong pansinin, wag lang nila akong iwanan. Hindi naman ako nag-rereklamo eh, lagi naman akong umiintindi. Pero bakit ganon? Did mom ever consider me in her decision when she left dad? Hindi ko kayang paniwalaan na hindi na niya mahal ang daddy ko, even if Red Santa de Leones has the worst attitude, I know my mom loves my dad irrevocably!"

My mom and dad started drifting apart when Reid decided to study abroad. I don't know the exact reason why and I bet if Romee has an idea.

I had always been so self-conscious when I cry but now I just gave way to the enormity of my sadness. I sobbed into my hands and the tears dripped between my fingers, raining down. My breathing comes ragged, gasping and the strength left my legs.

I turned to him, he's looking at me. His eyes showed the kind of gentle concern my mom used to have. He laid his hand lightly on my shoulder, and instead of flinching like I usually do when someone's touching me, I was soothed by it. He left his hand there and spoke with such a soft voice I felt his words calming me more by the way they were said than the actual words. It felt as if I was wrapped in a blanket of his caring.

"I don't know how, but Paris I want you to know that I'm here for you. I'm always ready to listen." He sighed. "Everything's gonna be fine, maybe not today. But soon it will be..."

My sadness is a hollowness. I can't tell what's worse. Sometimes my hollowness is a shell, holding in oceans of tears. Sometimes though, it holds a pieces of glass that are wedged in between my body and soul. That's the pain.

"You know what? Some days, I feel everything at once. Other days, I feel nothing at all. I don't know what's worse... drowning beneath the waves or dying from the thirst." I shrugged, wiping my tears away.

"Will you take a break, just for now. Stop thinking about anything. Let's celebrate your birthday!" He smiled. "Nineteen ka palang kung anu-ano na pinoproblema mo."

Tumayo siya, I held his arm to stop him. "Hey, you're sick."

"Uminom na ko ng gamot, Doc Paris hindi ba?" Ngumiti na naman siya, I can say that he has one of the best smiles I've seen. "You don't have allergies, hmm.. what's your favorite food?"

Feeling quite stunned, I just stared at him.

"Paris?" He frowned.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not used to this... someone asking me about my favorites. I mean, no one used to care." Napailing ako bago bumuntong hininga. "Anyway, I love bourbon chicken and some over-roasted greek potatoes."

"Okay, I have those in my fridge." He grinned.

I stood up from my seat. "Do you know how to cook those?"

"Oh, don't underestimate me Princess of the South." He chuckled. "Do you wanna bet?"

"Hmm, what kind of bet?"

He shrugged. "We will see."

Aidan did his best to somehow make my birthday okay. And I appreciate it.

Our dinner went well, Aidan is right. He cooks well and I enjoyed it. After meal, he serves me a hot chocolate in a giant mug. I'm not a fan of chocolates and stuff but I would love to have a taste.

"Chocolate for the birthday girl..."

The hot chocolate is more like melted belgian truffle than the ones serves in a restaurant. Its dark, rich and coats my tongue thickly before flowing down my throat. The top is swirled with white milk foam and spotted with cocoa powder. It smells like Charlie's Chocolate factory and I am torn between wanting to savour it and inhale it. For some moments I just wrap my hands around the ceramic mug, letting the warmth flow through my fingers, banishing the wintry chill.

"You like it?" He asked.

I nodded repeatedly. "So much!"

Lalo siyang napangiti habang pinagmamasdan ako. "You look so much more beautiful when you're happy, Paris."

I turned my head to the side to avert my gaze, but I know the sudden rosiness of my cheeks gave me away.

"So, what do you wanna do next?" He asked.

"I don't know. I usually lay in bed until I fell asleep at this time of the day." I answered.

"Do you want me to drive you home now?"

"And what? See dad?" I sarcastically snickered. "No, thank you."

"Alright..." He quietly said. "How about movies? What movie do you wanna watch?"

Movie. That sounds great! I can't remember when was the last time I watched a movie.

"I have the latest movies downloaded-"

"I wanna watch some old Hollywood film. Do you have?" I twitched my lips, hoping.

"Like? Kelly Grace? Monroe?" His brows meets at the center.

I smiled. "Oh! Any! Any of the fifties, sixties whatever."

"Okay then, have you already watched Paris When It Sizzles?"

"Haven't. Is it Hepburn's?" I asked.

"Ah-huh." He nodded. "Then we'll watch it."

Not that I don't fancy the modern films but if I were to choose, I rather watch a silver screen film all day. Like those of Audrey Hepburn's.

He brought me back to the living room, ngayon ko lang napagtuunan ng pansin ang ayos ng kapaligiran. Maybe this is the effect of the dinner we had.

The living room is like a perfect magazine cover. He mentioned awhile ago that his mom had been visiting him from time to time, so his flat looks like a flat. The couch is cream but inlaid with a fine green silk; leaves embroidered so delicately that they might have landed there and just sunk in, but I know they took hundreds of hours to sew. The white curtains are linen, the kind of white that is untouched by hands and devoid of dust. A cursory look to the right shows me the almost hidden cords that are used to open and close them. The photographs are black and white, not casual family snaps, but arranged to look like such by a professional. Any one of them wouldn't look out of place in a spread of Hello. The floor is a high polished wood, dark and free of either dust or clutter.

One painting caught my attention. The painting dominates the walls, every color is bold and painted with such precise lines that it almost looks like a mosaic. They are curved yet sharply defined, they seem to stable but tumble at the same time. Like me I think, so stable but always in free-fall inside. I am soft but can lampoon people who spark my anxieties without meaning to. I am bright but I often feel painted onto the background, like there really isn't anything of substance inside. I hope there is. I hope there is more meaning in my bones than tumbling colours, chaotic and shallow.

"You did that?" I asked.

"Yeah, that was my first painting being framed." He said, pausing from preparing the television. "I was fifteen when I painted it. It was inspired by Picasso's Weeping Woman from nineteen thirty seven, though I've mixed and matched the colors to form a face."

"But I can't figure out the face there-"

"I did that on purpose." He chuckled. "So no one could see the beauty of the weeping woman I've painted."

"Oh." I nodded. "Now I'm curious."

Lalo siyang natawa, bitbit ang remote ay inakay ako nito patungo sa sofa sa gitna. He dimmed the lights when the movie started.

We're sitting on the opposite sides of the sofa, having huge space between us. I got my eyes fixed on the flatscreen, I can't help but feel happy watching a black and white film.

Funny, but yes. Mababaw lang ang kaligayahan ko. Sa mga simpleng bagay na tulad nito, masaya na ko. If only they know, I wasn't hard to please.

Pareho kaming tahimik ni Aidan na nanunuod. Isa pa iyon sa nagpasaya sakin. Hindi siya napipilitan lamang na manuod, he's really into it.

And I like it.

"Nakaka-relate ka ba?" Natatawa kong tanong nang lingunin ko siya sa kalagitnaan ng palabas.

"Hoy, wag kang judgmental. I know what to prioritize." He chuckled.

Napailing na lamang ako, based on Aric's stories about his family, nalaman kong Aidan is a chronic womanizer. He's friends with my cousins Zach and Oxygen who're jackass playboys.

And the movie we're watching is all about a writer who was paid to write a screenplay at the given due. He's a womanizer and have spent all his days in Paris from jumping in one woman to another. Until it was only days left before the due, he's struggling for ideas. He couldn't write any. Not even a single word. So he hired a secretary named Gabrielle Simpson played by Audrey Hepburn in the film.

The desperate and self-loathing writer, Richard, begins to be awakened and inspired by the beautiful Gabrielle, and starts to come up with various scenarios for his screenplay, called The Girl Who Stole The Eiffel Tower, which is based on their unfolding romance.

"You enjoyed the film?" He asked after the screen shuts black.

I nodded. "Ikaw? You're not bored?"

"No, the movie is good."

"It's romance. Cool that you like it."

"It has sense." He shrugged.

Wala sa loob na tiningala ko ang painting, kung bakit ay hindi ko rin alam.

"Do you like it? You can have it."

"Ha? H-hindi na." Sunod-sunod akong umiling.

"Seriously, Paris. If you like it you can take it. Consider it as a birthday present-"

"No, I can't accept that. That's your first masterpiece and I know it means so much to you." I said. "I'm just fascinated by it but I'm not thinking of owning it, silly."

"You sure?"

"So sure." I smiled.

"Can you smile more often?" He whispered.

His hooded eyes framed by long dark lashes, an unidentifiable color, somewhere in between silver and blue and green pierced on me. He's looking at me as if I'm someone's special, or it's just me and my thinking?

"Come on, smile for me... please?" Even his words sounded gentle.

What's with the bourbon chicken? Whatever, I'm blaming it for the stupid smile that curved my lips.

He moved a little closer to me, I didn't. I feel like I'm a marinated fish stuck in the fridge.

"Thank you, Aidan. For making my birthday happen..."

"I don't accept thank you." One of his brows arched in a manly manner.

"Huh?" I frowned, he's still looking at me with those intense eyes.

"But I can accept a kiss, Paris..."

And before I could even compose an answer, he kissed me. I was completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Aidan - watching him talk, laugh and frown - that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn't imagined how warm they would feel pressed up against my own.

It was brief and featherlight. But it was...

"It was my first kiss..." I've unconsciously voiced out my thoughts.

"And I still want to be the second..."

I hesitantly looked up at him. The swirls of emotion I saw there made me gasp. Lust and desire. However, before I could ponder about it further, he yanked me to him and covered my mouth with his in a hungry kiss. As our lips crushed together, I felt like i was walking on air. It was magic, the way his lips connected with mine. His mouth was so warm, the caress of his lips softer than I could have imagined and I opened my mouth with a low moan.