My room was not as big as Larry's but it was tidy and had enough space for the things that I only need. He was impressed at how clean my room was. "Are you a serial killer or something?" I was not really big on tidiness and all but I get bored a lot these past few days and when I was bored, I cleaned the hell out of my room like a mad man. We leaned on the frame of my bed and sat side by side. I popped the lid of the canned beer that was sitting on a small tub filled with ice and handed one over to him.

"Mom would be mad as hell if she ever knew we're drinking." He said as he grabbed the beer from my hand. I popped another one for myself.

"We do not have to tell them."

"Secrets?"

"Yeah, secrets."

"Do you think our parents' keep secrets from us too Florante?" He asked. "Do you think nana hides secrets from you?" I could have told him about the photos which Nana HAD kept hidden away from me in her little trunk of secrets in my father's room next door but I was not drunk enough for that yet so I just said, "They do, all parents are hiders, Larry. It would not hurt if we keep a few from them once in a while to get even." He nodded in agreement. "You always have a unique way of seeing things, do you know that?" He drank his beer timidly and looked at the TV screen with an empty expression in his eyes.

The light emanated from the TV screen was the only light that permeated inside the room. Outside, the rain had started to pick up. Summer rain. They fell from the sky in irregular intervals and they never stop until everything in the world is drenched. There was peace all around. The sound of the rain pelting on the roof was lulling the whole world to sleep. A Lightning surfed through the boulders of dark clouds every now and then.

Larry had been laughing non-stop since THE GREAT DICTATOR was played on the screen as though the world was having some kind of shortage of happiness and he was chosen to fill the gaps. He poked the tears that were about to jump from the corners of his eyes.

"This film is hilarious." He said in-between laughter.

"I have lots of these," I bragged.

"Can we watch every single one of them?" His eyes scintillated with a curiosity of a kid.

"As long as you promise me you'll not die laughing."

"That's not a bad way to go, is it?"

"No it's not."

I inserted another Charlie Chaplin tape called The Tramp on the DVR. I tapped its surface to give it a head start. It's ancient. It's a miracle it still worked.

The ice cubes on the tub where the two remaining cans of beer were placed had been melted. I stood up to get another pack of ice cubes from the fridge when I felt the alcohol started to kick-in. I nearly tipped over to my bed. My head felt as light as a helium gas balloon when I walked down the stairs to the kitchen. I had never been drunk before so I did not know the difference between drunk or tipsy maybe I was both. The ice cubes had stuck together so I had to chip them up with a knife to break them apart. I grabbed a pack of salted peanuts from the cupboard and went back to the room. Larry was still seated in the same place where I left him. He snatched a handful of peanuts and stuffed it in his mouth. It made a crackling sound when he chewed on it like when you pop your knuckles. At midnight we laid three cans of beer were lying flat on the floor; I emptied two of them and Larry was half-way through the third one. When he was through with it, I handed him another one. We had to share the last one. The beer had a euphoric spell on Larry. It seemed everything around him was dissolved in a comic relief. He could not help himself from laughing. I started to get worry. And then he became silent all of a sudden. I looked at him and I saw tears falling from his eyes. He was crying. It drizzled at first, almost like a mist as the light of the TV screen was reflected in his eyes until it erupted into a cold summer rain that burst out of nowhere. I leaned his head slowly over to my shoulder.

"I'm scared, Florante. What if they'd wish it was my twin brother who was born and not me if they'd know I'm gay." He bewailed. My words would not be of any comfort so I just combed my fingers through his hair. I wished he did cut it short. I was sad he did. I thought about crying too. For my consolation it still smelled like watermelon. I let him cry on my shoulder. His tears dampened my shirt. The sky was crying. I felt like crying too so I cried out all the bottled tears inside of me and let it flow and drown the whole world with it. We cried and cried and cried like a madman.