ACT EIGHT

A PRETENSE TO INSURGENCE

Rallies. I'm not fond of it.

I squinted my eyes as waves of unrighteousness assaulted my ears. Deeming to be superficial for some as this event occurred during their year-course stay in the school, the rallyists' rippled thoughts irks me. How could they fathom on being unrighteous against the government that holds them dearly? How could they rebel against the people who did nothing but to protect and put the public security at the top of their list?

I frowned as their shouts started to grow. May gumamit na ng megaphone sa labas kaya rinig na rinig na ang mga sinisigaw ng mga ralyista mula sa gate. With their waves of shout increasing as time passes by, my solitude started to disappear from my seat.

I inhaled a sharp breath before firmly closing my eyes. Nadidismaya akong umalis mula sa pwesto ngunit napigilan ng isang malakas na hila pababa.

I am forced back to my seat.

"Where are you going?" bulong sa akin habang mariing dinidiin ang kamay ko sa sementadong materyal ng malaking fountain. "Hindi mo gusto ang nakikita mo? Too controversial for you, huh, Miss Fashion Designer?"

I gritted my teeth as annoyance seeped through my bones. Marahas kong nilingon si Atlas na nakangisi sa 'kin. I tried my best to be kind to him—to respect him—but he's giving me a lot of signs not to. Though I could fathom Julianna's scowl throughout the day, I know I couldn't bear with Atlas' annoying grin. There's something in it that reeks of controversy; I didn't like it. Ayokong madamay!

Kinunot ko ang noo nang hindi pa rin niya binitawan ang nakaiiritang ngisi. He sat beside me, quite comfortably, as he drawled his lips into sly strokes to give way for his wicked tongue. "There's the rebellion that we want. Bakit ka umaalis? Naririndi ka ba?"

There's something in his eyes that challenges me—made me feel some kind of way to answer—to be taunted with his ludicrous beliefs. I know too well not to. Kung alam ko lang, inaasar lang ako ni Atlas!

"Did you start the rallies?" naiirita kong tanong habang inaalis ang kamay mula sa hawak niya. I tried my best not to lose my cool because I know that this is what he wants. I don't need a lot of encounters to know how he carried himself.

Maloko. Nang-iintriga. Nakaiirita.

Nanatili ang titig niya sa 'kin. I didn't back down—respect. Palihim akong ngumiwi sa naisip.

"So, what if I did? What are you going to do? Isusumbong mo ako sa Dean?" panghahamon niya. "Honestly, Sevilja, bakit ka ba naiirita sa mga nag-rarally? They're not harming you."

I sucked a sharp breath as his words pricked me. Pinigilan kong magpakita ng mabigat na emosyon at pinilit ang sarili na ngumiti.

"Disturbance. And the dis-"

"-disrespect, I know. Gan'yan ka naman."

Lalong lumalim ang pagkakakunot ng noo ko. "I know you don't know me."

He let out yet another annoying grin. "You think?"

Ibinalik ko muli ang mga tingin sa nag-rarally. With their masks of different colors striking through the distance; their usual red, black, and white rally posters; and their amplified pleas against the government—the factors are enough to gather attention from a third of the student body. Dumarami ang mga estudyanteng kumukumpol malapit sa gate habang ang iba ay nakuntento sa pagtatanaw lamang.

"Ang tunay na reporma ay sa pamamagitan ng sining! Hindi niyo ba naiintindihan kung gaano kalaki ang naiaambag ng mga pintor sa bansa ngayon?"

"Ibalik ang kinaltas na art fund! Hindi makatarungan 'yan! Kaya kakaonti ang nalilikhang propesyonal ng bansa dahil hindi sinusustentuhan ng gobyerno!"

If it weren't for his caging grip and the sharp stare that I've been feeling, I would've left my seat. Pinilit ko ang sariling umaktong normal at tahimik na nakatabi kay Atlas habang tinatanaw ang malayong pwesto ng mga nag-rarally.

"Sanay ka na nga sigurong umarte," makahulugan niyang sabi at pekeng ngumisi. "Remember: the prying eyes from the Dean. Ipagpatuloy mo 'yan, Sevilja."

"Would you please let go of my hand?" I asked, trying my best not to sound rude even though I want to. Tinuruan ako nang maayos at hindi ko hahayaang ang simpleng inis ang magsasalita para sa 'kin.

He chuckled darkly. "I see... ayaw mo madamay sa mga ganito, ano?"

I didn't answer. I left him to fend with his thoughts. Telling my opinion wouldn't change anything about what he's thinking. Ano pa ba ang magagawa ko kun'di manahimik? The heavy daggers that I am getting from the back didn't help either! Dumadagdag pa sa tensyon na nararamdaman ko kahit hindi naman dapat.

I'm not part of this revolution. In fact, I am siding with the righteous! So, if they have plans to run a check on me, I know that I'm clean.

"I'm okay with myself, Atlas. Please let go of my hand."

Nang-aasar niya akong nilingon bago dahan-dahang inalis ang diin ng kamay. Agad kong sinilip ang pamumula ng palad dahil sa matagal na pwersa. The nerve of this guy! He should be thankful that I didn't get any scratch or else I'll be facing difficulties while sketching.

Presko siyang dumekwatro at bumuntong-hininga. Pasimple niyang hinila ang pantalon ko nang umamba akong aalis.

I tried my best not to scowl. I have a lot of things to do! Namahinga lang ako rito sa fountain na katapat ng napakalayong main gate dahil ayaw kong umupo sa damuhan.

And this is the most peaceful place that I could find!

"They're running a background check, Miss. Kung madali kang aalis, pagbibintangan ka."

"I'm not even good at painting!" I hissed, slowly losing my cool. Mariin kong ipinikit ang mata bago kumuha ng malalalim na hininga at pinakawalan din. I badly want to pull my hair because of this frustration. I'm sure that they won't get anything from me!

"You think? Iisipin nila na bakit ka biglang kukuha ng additional class sa kalagitnaan ng taon? Sa oras kung kailan umiingay si RAN? Hindi ka makalalagpas do'n."

I glared at him, my cool at its lowest point. "I wasn't born yet when he started his revolution, Atlas. I came from a family of businessmen and ballerinas. Bakit ako pinagbibintangan mo?"

He plainly shrugged which almost took the grip of my cool. "I don't know. Malay mo lang mahusay ka pa lang puminta?"

Why is he taunting me? I don't get it! Humugot muli ako ng hininga at pinilit na kalmahin ang sarili. Lashing out on him isn't a good choice, and if what he's saying is true—that there would be hawk-like eyes—might as well tone it down until the shouts diminished.

"Why are you even taunting me? Wala kang makukuha sa 'kin."

He rose his brow—challenged me. "Wala nga ba? Sa tingin mo, bakit ako nandito?"

I stared at him. The longer my gaze lingered at him, the longer I could feel myself slowly losing respect for him. Nanloloko ang mga mata niya pero bakit pinahahalata ni Atlas? What is he up to? Why is he causing this revolution? He would get nothing from revolting against the government! If I know, for sure, he'd get imprisoned because this is rebellion! All forms of rebellion would lead to imprisonment. Hindi ba niya alam 'yon?

"You'd get imprisoned," matipid kong sabi, ang pasensisya ay nawawala na.

I gritted my teeth when he merely shrugged. If I got the news that he's RAN and I'd get treated as his accomplice, I don't know what to do. The Dean believing me that I'm innocent? I'm not sure about that. With how Atlas carries himself, I know he'd have his ways on how to taunt me into the ground. His reason? I don't know what.

"Ano naman ngayon kung makukulong ako? I'm a powerful person, Sevilja. Politika ang umiiral sa mundong 'to."

Looking back, if my father is still alive, I wouldn't even consider his position as a businessman to get what I want and to get away from what I did. It's too unrighteous. It's not rational, either. Why would I even do that if I am contented in what I'm believing on?

"You won't get away with that. Not all politics could."

"It doesn't mean that my family couldn't," seryoso niyang sabi.

The shouts started to cease because of the handling of the staff. Hindi katulad dati na napakarahas, bahagyang kumalma ang pagtataboy sa mga nag-rarally. What would they get from rallying at this school? Wala namang miyembro ng gobyerno rito! Politician's children, yes, but it doesn't make any sense!

Pinilit kong pakalmahin ang inis pagkatapos iwanan si Atlas sa fountain. I immediately headed to The Raison.

My mind is cramped when I got at the passion-induced museum. Magkakaroon ng museum tour dahil i-didiscuss ang detalye tungkol kay RAN. As a part of the unit and a part of the society, I tried my best to understand details about the said painter.

Annika immediately smiled at me once I went beside her as we formed a line. Hinihintay pa ang ibang estudyante kaya hindi makapagsimula.

The thought of exploring the house of passion didn't make me happy. Dumating na ang professor para sa tour pati na rin ang ibang estudyante kaya nagsimula nang maglibot. My eyes wandered around the countless sketches and paintings of students birthed from passion. Their dedication and hard work oozed from the timeless canvas portrayed by golden frames of architecture. Sa ilang beses na pumunta ako rito, hindi ko maiwasang mamangha dahil sa mga napakahusay na likha.

The tour started with the discussion of RAN's history as a controversial painter. Though RAN's personality remained hidden, the uproar that his paintings caused gave him justice. With a throbbing pulse of anger towards the government, he is adamant to portray the reality behind the closed doors of the council. Of subjects related to the politicians such as the Malacañang Palace, the seated President named Francisco Vienson, and other government officials, there is no doubt that RAN's hatred fueled him to rebel through his art.

And he succeeded.

Years ago, his paintings impeached the previous President named Alejandro Joaquin. Countless classified files were leaked which successfully destroyed not only the government but also the country. When he was impeached, the previous Vice President Joselito Cubio took the power while the former President's issue was being settled. Cubio lacked managing powers, the reason why he didn't get enough roles during Joaquin's term, which caused the downfall of the country. The country was in shambles and it lasted until the election of the current President, Francisco Vienson.

"But now that RAN is on his way for another batch of revolution, could this be a fluctuation waiting to happen?"

Napatigil ako sa paglalakad kasabay ng iba pa. With their reaction, I'm sure most of them weren't informed about what happened back then. Considering their ages—most are around my age—they are not aware about it. Hindi pa naman ako ipinangangak noon pero kung makaakto sina Atlas at Zoren, parang matagal nang nabubuhay rito. Are they even around my age?

Seeing RAN's canvas where he showcased his works with wickedness, of colors in erratic fidelity, and a diction to defy the government, shows that he is very eager to retain his opposition. Bawat haplos ng aking mata sa ukit ng pintura sa puting burda ay nagpananaig ng inggit sa aking dibdib.

How can RAN express his feelings through his art? Why can't I express myself with the art I turn back on? Is it because I defied all the possibilities and I left myself with this state?

"He is a controversial contemporary artist of this day. Though his topics contain a wide variety of corruption, his main muse is the government. RAN's identity is hidden—there was no hint for his nationality, his race, ethnicity, gender, and religion. All we know about RAN is his hatred against the government, but we refer to him as 'he'."

I continued on writing the information I needed before I drew my attention back.

When I went here a few days ago, I didn't see this painting. Mukhang bagong dating ang painting na 'to. It is an abstract portrait of the current Philippine president. Hindi 'man gaanong pansin ang pagkakahawig nito dahil abstract, nandoon pa rin ang damdamin na para ito sa korupsiyon ng gobyerno.

I hope I could have this will to bravely showcase my newfound talent. The rebel could paint anonymously while I can't perform at the opera anonymously. It is very impossible, there's the reason why there's a great distinction between the two of us.

"Wala ring nakaaalam kung saan nanggagaling ang mga likha niya. Pina-dedeliver lang dito ang mga paintings niya nang walang return address. Posible kayang anak siya ng presidente? Isang politiko? Dukha? O isang dayuhan na nanirahan dito sa Pilipinas at nakaranas ng kasakiman?"

I continued to pry my eyes on the strokes at the canvas. Surely, there would be traces of his smudges or any hints about his identity but there were none. The only recognition for this painting to be his work is his signature—RAN, clean, prime, precise.

Bumuntong-hininga ako at tinitigan ang bawat anggulo ng kan'yang likhing sining. What is RAN's will for him to pursue this? How could he fathom to devise several ideas into one and make it an overwhelming piece for the government and the public to look into? His works are so controversial and I'm curious about his existence until now. Buhay pa kaya siya?

My attention was so immersed with my thoughts that I lost the ability to comprehend the words from the instructor. Inilibot ko na lamang ang tingin sa paligid. Naagaw ng paningin ko ang dalawang sculpture na naka-display kasama ang mga painting. There's a thin, golden plaque where the sculptor's name lies—Galatea by Giuseppe de Angelis.

"Galatea!" Annika said, popping out of nowhere. "Alam mo ba magpinsan silang sikat sa sculpture? Una si Michelangelo tapos sumunod si Giuseppe. Ang galing!"

She fixed her golden-rimmed spectacles before proceeding to jot down notes. Hinatak niya ang kamay ko at sinabing nahuhuli na sa pila ng tour.

"May titingnan lang ako. Una ka muna."

"Susunod ka ha?" she asked; I nodded.

Annika went back to the line before waving a hand at me.

I glanced at a painting nearby. The one who is very skilled and gifted to painting—who is not surprisingly at the top of the class—is Triptolemus Lagdameo, whose name I knew about after countless stories from Gio.

Ngumiti ako at sinilip muli ang painting na may pirma ni Tres.

"Gestural abstract expressionism."

I tore my attention against Tres' painting and looked at the speaker. I sighed when I saw that it's Zoren Valdellon, one of the kindest painters that I met here at RCA. As what I have been hearing, he followed Tres' and Atlas' skills.

But seeing his friend with an annoying grin reminds me of the rebel boy. "That's Tres for you. Following Federico Aguilar Alcuaz's Reveries of Love, he tries to incorporate the depth of darkness in his works," he explained with a mischievous glint in his dark brown eyes.

A glint of mischief entered his eyes before brushing his clean-cut hair. Nagpakita ang tira ng asul na pintura sa kan'yang morenong balat.

"I told you a thing about him. Mukhang may gusto ka kay Tres."

Last time I checked, he's been kind and easygoing with me. Bakit bigla akong inaasar?

I tried fending off my annoyance—a refrain to the rising of my eyebrow. "I am not."

"You are," he implied.

Sa inis ay inirapan ko siya at umambang bumalik sa grupo. Pinanood lang ako ng loko-lokong mata ni Zoren at kinamot ang tengang may nakaipit na paintbrush. He slid his fingers inside his dirty jeans' pocket before pushing his tongue to lick his reddish lower lip.

"O baka sa 'kin ka interesado?"

Lalong kumunot ang noo ko. Why is he having this conversation with me? "Why would I be interested in you?"

"Because I am Tres' another half? I am very well informed that you like him."

I let out a dramatic snicker. Like him? What? Saan niya nakuha 'yon? Pagkagusto sa gawa ni Tres, ayos pa pakinggan. Ang pagkagusto lang kay Tres ay hindi! And the possibility of me liking his friend is very, very impossible; I have no intention of associating myself with a man whose passion is sky-high.

"Miss Fashion Designer." I frowned when I heard that nickname. "Galit ka ata. Ewan, 'di ko mapigilang matawa. I think you want to kill me with your pen."

I sighed and decided to end this conversation. Kalmado akong ngumiti sa kan'ya ngunit nginisian niya ako. "I'm sorry, I have to go. May sinusundan akong tour."

Tinaasan niya ako ng kilay. "Then why are you still here, gazing at my friend's work? May gusto ka nga kay Tres, 'no?"

Ngumiti muli ako at umiling. I politely waved him goodbye before following the tour. Nahanap ko sila sa Sculpture Area.

"Ano na ang pinag-uusapan?" I whispered when I went beside Annika. The girl is still clutching her mini sketchbook as she drew her pencil around the page. Nakabuo siya ng ruffled skirt habang pabalik-balik ang tingin sa sculpture.

"Hm... paintings lang ni RAN. Wala rin namang gaanong dinadagdag. Tingin-tingin na lang ng sculptures, tatapusin lang yung oras."

We stayed at the Raison for a few more minutes. We were ready to leave when a commotion started near the entrance. Lahat ng mga taong nasa loob ng museum ay napalingon sa babaeng sumusugod papasok. The school's lanyard hung at her neck. Namumula ang mukha niya at galit na galit na sumugod papunta sa 'min.

The guards scurried behind her, trying to contain her anger.

"Babagsak ang gobyerno! Tutuloy ang revolution ni RAN! RAN is going to win against the politicians!" she shouted.

The student's shout enveloped the highs and the lows of the museum. Kaonti na lang ay makukumbinsi ako na maaaring mabasag ng boses niya ang ilang mga sculpture na naka-display. Why is she shouting anyway? For revolution? At once, Atlas' words immediately filled the void of my mind.

"Ma'am, tumigil na po kayo," kalmadong sabi ng mga gwardiya habang pinipirmi ang babae.

"Taga-VisComm 'yan, 'di ba? She'll get expelled," rinig kong sabi mula sa linya.

"Lagot 'yan sa Dean."

"Demerit agad 'yan!"

The shouting woman's face was so red I couldn't put a distinction between a ruby and her. With her pale skin, I could easily see the harsh marks caused by the tight grips of the guards. Pinipilit nilang paalisin mula sa Raison ang babae pero hindi nila magawa.

"Ma'am, kumalma na po kayo."

"Hindi pwede! I want a revolution! Kasali ako sa rebolusyon!"

She keeps on shouting about RAN and revolution. Is she a fan, too, like Zoren and the others? Hindi ko nagugustuhan ang dumadaloy na mga salita pero wala akong ginawa kun'di manahimik.

Atlas' words rang in my ears, Remember: the prying eyes from the Dean.

The VisComm student wasn't even alarmed when the guard channeled through the other's receptions! Patuloy pa rin ang pagsisigaw ng babae at hindi pa rin natitinag. Nagpupumiglas pa rin siya mula sa hawak ng mga gwardiya.

"Gosh, hindi ba siya nahihiya?" I heard someone murmur.

Finally, they have restrained and dragged her back. Nananatili pa rin siya sa pagsisigaw paalis. Her voice soon disappeared when the doors shut her out.

"Babalik si RAN! Babalik si RAN!" Were her last words.

I didn't expect anything the next day, but I heard that the VisComm student really got expelled because of what she did. Not only did she violated the regulations of RCA, but she also blatantly posted and tweeted about her upcoming reform against the government. Nalaman din ng school na sumasali siya sa iba pang rally kung saan palagi siyang naka-mask. As a result, she almost ruined the school. She also won't receive any recommendation letters if ever she plans to enroll at another school—an art school, to be precise. Lalong hinding-hindi siya tatanggapin sa Pampanga branch ng RCA.

Annika joined me during my free hour. Nakita niya akong pabalik sa kwarto ko kanina pero hinatak niya ako sa cafeteria para mag-snacks. She ordered herself a blueberry cheesecake and a latte, courtesy of the school's café while I comforted myself with a matcha tea latte.

Habang iniikot ko ang tingin sa paligid, hindi maiwasang mahagip ng mata ko ang naka-flash sa TV screen. The buzzes from the students immediately rose, considering the expanse of the small café, kaya madaling napuno ng ingay. Napansin naman agad ng iba kaya may nanahimik at umalis.

"Ah! Na-expelled na talaga siya. Grabe talaga," Annika commented.

Uminom ako mula sa latte bago naglabas ng sketchbook at ipinatong sa hita. I leaned at the comfortable coffee-toned couch as I sniffed the aroma of roasted coffee beans.

"Do you know anything about the school's regulation? I mean, other than the facts in the handbook?" I asked and fiddled with comfort.

She pouted and fixed her spectacles. "Hm... naririnig ko lang na maraming anak ng politiko rito. Hindi ako nagtatanong kung sino-sino kasi chismis lang naman." Tumawa siya sa dulo.

"Pero... mabigat ba talaga yung ginawa niya? The so-called shouts for revolution, I mean. Na-expelled agad..." I looked away, a little ashamed about my naiveness.

I kept on thinking about Atlas' words—on how the government has its eyes overseeing this school. This is a school for art students, bakit gano'n kahigpit ang gobyerno rito? Do they possibly think that this art school could breed revolutionaries?

Possible. That VisComm student is an example.

But why? Other than being an art school, what could add? Dumagdag ba lalo ang pagkakaroon ng anak ng mga politiko rito? Is it because the government is wary of their children's safety in this school that's why the Dean is trying his best to be of good conduct?

"Ayon, o. Tingnan mo yung nasa TV."

My eyes flew towards the TV's direction. Naka-flash muli ang documentary ni RAN pati ang ilang litrato ng dating politiko. Nakasama ang litrato ng dating Presidente at Bise Presidente.

"Ay grabe, politiko nga talaga umiiral," I heard Annika said.

If I need to know a thing or two between the school and the government, should I concern myself with Atlas?

Marahas akong napailing. I thought I'm going to be righteous? Hindi ko dapat pinoproblema ang mga 'yon! Kung ano ang issue nila ro'n, labas na ako.

Napakurap ako nang makita si Atlas na bahagyang madungis ang braso. Galit na galit ang ekspresyon niya habang mabibigat ang lakad palabas ng cafeteria. Hindi nakalagpas sa paningin ko ang kuyom ng kamao at ang ugat na lumitaw sa leeg. Napansin din ng mga ibang estudyante kaya nalaman ko kung sino at saan siya pupunta.

"Pinatawag na naman ng Dean?"

"Oo. Ano pa bang bago? Palagi namang pinatatawag si Atlas tuwing may gan'yan. Minsan nga, iniisip ko na baka siya si RAN, e. Mukha siyang may balak na mag-rebolusyon!" The student accidentally rose his voice, the reason why some of the customers around spun their heads to look at him. Agad siyang nahiya at patakbong umalis ng cafeteria.

The Dean? I didn't see him as the one who gets to be called often. Baka nga siya si RAN? If he is, then why?

"With all due respect, Vice President Corazon Salvador, ano po ang masasabi niyo tungkol sa mga paintings ni RAN pati na rin sa pagbabalik niya?"

The breaking news tore apart RAN's documentary. Tunog ng flash ang bumalot sa paligid nang ipinakita ang live press conference para sa Vice President ng Pilipinas.

"I know that the public is more open about art than before and I am sure that they could weigh their opinions very well..."

"Ano nga ulit ang posisyon ng tatay ni Tres?"

Napalingon ako kay Annika dahil sa tanong niya. "What?"

She rose her brows and blinked behind her spectacles. "Politician kaya father ni Tres! Hindi mo alam?"

I tried to recall some fragments about my encounter with the two. Biglang sumagi sa isip ko ang relasyon ni Tres sa tatay niya dahil sa usapan nila ni Zoren. I didn't hear any news about his father's position.

"Ay, hindi ka nakapagtatanong sa iba? Kilalang-kilala kaya si Tres dito. Golden Boy ng Royal Colleges for the Arts, remember?"

Napakunot ako. "What's his connection in this matter?"

"His father is a politician, duh. At tsaka, painter din siya! Wala ba siyang masasabi tungkol dito? Ay, teka, 'di ba kumukuha ka ng painting class? Nakasasama mo siya, 'no?"

I nodded, which I regretted immediately. I hate lying, but at this time, I think I should've taken the risk at that. Though if I were to lie, malalaman at malalaman pa rin niya. The guy always has his soul parading in the hall!

"Hindi ko naman nakakausap."

Because Zoren was the one who keeps on talking to me. Isa pa, ayaw kong maistorbo si Tres. I could feel that the last thing he needs is to tutor some newbie painter.

"Gano'n? Sayang naman."

Nang bumalik ako sa Raison noong gabing 'yon, nakatatak pa rin sa utak ko ang VisComm student na na-expelled. Her shouts kept on attacking my ears as if forcing her entry towards my confused mind. With all the mysteries, what could possibly go wrong? What am I seeing wrongly? There must be something lurking.

"The strokes are not strong enough..." he murmured.

Awtomatikong kumunot ang noo ko nang makita si Tres na nakatayo sa likod ng painting niya. Nakapamewang habang umiiling. Nangalay siya sa pwesto bago paikutin ang malaking paintbrush sa pagitan ng magaganda't aristokratikong mga daliri. The line defining his arms kept on waving at me as he stirred the brushed between the gaps of his fingers.

"This is... a disappointment."

Is he a perfectionist himself? True to what I've been hearing, he must be so deemed on making his works spotless that even the best of his paintings wasn't enough for him. Human nature at its peak—the lack of contentment over anything.

Royal Colleges for the Arts' Golden Boy kept on critiquing his work as if he was a painting connoisseur—which I guess he is more than that. With the common nature of pouting of an intention to soften the actor's features, the arrogance in his eyes didn't bother to leave. That whatever he bestowed his eyes upon, you should kneel.

With a sigh, he trapped the edge of the paintbrush in the middle of his teeth. Dismayadong umiling habang mahinang sinesermonan ang sariling gawa. He kept on going and going with his comments on how he hated his works, how the colors weren't enough to make the painting pop, and how he forgot the minor details. Marahan niyang sinabunutan ang buhok.

Pinigilan ko ang ngumisi at umaktong tumitingin sa isa pang painting na naka-display.

"This imperfection is killing me. Bakit ba sila nakuntento rito?"

What is he doing? Hindi ba niya iniisip na baka masira ang oh-so-mighty niyang character kapag patuloy niyang ginagawa 'yon? I firmly shook my head and landed my stare at my feet.

An illusion crossed my mind—of pink elastics and concrete papers, the breaking of the Pointe shoes and the rubbing of resin on the hardwood floor.

Ballet shoes.

As days pass by with an intention of staying away from ballet as much as possible, I didn't know that I am heading towards the path of numbness. With a demand to be felt, but having the lack of it, I kept on thinking the highs and the lows of everything. The blisters I received, the sprains that kept me up, and the coldness of my muscles.

Why could I feel the constricting of my throat whenever I think about ballet? Is it that impossible to return to? Really... it breaks my heart knowing that I won't have the passion once I return because my past would keep on haunting me.

"An artwork for your thoughts?" His voice erupted nuisance inside my righteousness.

Napalingon ako sa kan'ya.

I knew that I was discrete to a fact about my hatred to his overwhelming sense of passion. Sobra-sobra ang pagmamahal niya sa ginagawa kaya gano'n na lang ang inis ko sa kan'ya.

The moment I entered RCA and became known for his existence, I never liked him. I never liked Triptolemus Lagdameo. He was... too much for me. His presence is overwhelming, and I don't want to be overwhelmed because the last time I did, I sacrificed my love; I don't want it to happen again.

The Golden Boy continued his wondering stare at me. He didn't leave me any room to think about quite impossible things—he demanded an immediate answer.

At this point of vulnerability, why am I allowing the Golden Boy to seep through it? Ano ba ang ginawa ni Tres para magkaroon ng nag-uumapaw na pagmamahal sa ginagawa? Why can't I even excrete my fear and ingest the passion I longed?

There is something dangerous in him that shocked me to the core—something that would disrupt me from my routines, something that would force me to return. Ayoko ng gano'n. Ayoko sa paraan ng paninitig ni Tres. Ayokong malaman niya ang tinatago ko!

My chest started to constrict as I felt how his cautious eyes studied me. With nervous and shallow breaths, I maneuvered my tongue for an answer. "I don't need it."

He rose his brow, challenging me into a battle of rights. "Really?"

Nanatili ang titig ko sa kan'ya.

What could I possibly feel towards this man? Anger? Envy? Hatred? Why—because he reeks of passion? Is it right, then? Is it right on being negative towards a person who did nothing but to follow their passion just because I can't follow mine? Why am I hating him? Why should I hate him?

I knew for a fact that I didn't like how he carries himself because to me, he wanted the people to worship the path he's walking on. To be a deity. To be someone greater than the holiest's holiness.

What could possibly go wrong for a man of passion, character, and attitude to be on the wrong side of the world? To be someone against anything? To be someone who is greater over anything? Could he possibly lose himself? If he could, and if he already did, how did he return?

Natawa ako sa pinag-iisip. The moment that that incident occurred, I pledged my life towards righteousness—the welfare of my mother and the many. I know that once they'd see me performing again as if it didn't happen years ago, I am more than sure that it would be an event for recollection. That there was once a Lefrov Sevilja who ruled the business world.

"It's not enough." Because I don't need anything to remind me of my passion.

I didn't miss the slight frown on his mysterious lips. While his eyes brought arrogance, the trace of curiosity didn't leave my sight.

"Why not? Isn't it enough?" nagtataka niyang tanong.

I pried my eyes on him. I don't know why I'm making an enemy out of Tres.

"Hindi ko kailangan ang painting mo."

I saw how the edges of his lips tugged into a small smirk. I couldn't even read his face. Is he smirking because he was denied? Or is he expecting this remark?

"Gano'n ba? It's not that relevant for you? Not that important?"

I unconsciously bit my lip as I felt my cool hanging dangerously low. Mula noong isang araw pa nauubos ang pasensiya ko, hindi ko inaakalang isang pintor pa ang dadagdag sa pagkaubos no'n.

"You're painting is not enough for my thoughts. I need more than that," huli kong sinabi bago talikuran siya.

Saying that a painter's artwork isn't enough would break them. I know him too well. It takes more than a word for him to break.