Look
Michael’s shift at McDonald’s ends at eight but sometimes, he lingers around the mall for another hour. At nine, the lights die and SM is nothing more than a large block of blocks.
The city is still alive outside. The lights are bright but not pretty though hardly anyone pays attention. Bus drivers blow their horns, jeepney drivers yell and he joins the family of seven as they cross the street.
Bert waves at him as he approaches and then goes back to poking his stick in a lady’s bright green bag which Michael is sure Louis Vuitton did not design, no matter what the print says. He wedges a white stick between his lips and fishes out his lighter – standard issue, with a scantily clad blonde pasted on one side.
“Just stick a knife in your gut. That’s easier”
The gentle night breeze caresses the flame to nothingness and he’s left with an unlit stick and a very disappointed Vincent two feet away. Michael looks down on his beaten up Chucks, spitting the cigarette and leaving it there on the parking lot as they hail a jeep home.
“Can I stay over?”
“You can. The pack in your pockets can’t”
Now I am in rage. As if we were engaged.
They both cringe at the music blaring from the speakers.
“Para!” Vincent yells before Champ can tell them I hate you. Michael hands his pack of Marlboro lights to a very surprised high school student with earphones bearing fruits in his ears.
A taxi speeds by as they cross the road and Vincent curses fluently with his Convergys accent. He gears up for his “Drivers are Stupid” lecture as they climb up the stairs to his apartment. Michael takes his bag and fishes out the keys, knowing better than to make any sort of reaction to the monologue.
Vincent finishes his no-fail-plan-to-combat-traffic-jams-in-the-metro with his monthly question, “Have you paid your rent?”
“Yep” Michael closes the doors behind them and locks it, setting Vincent’s bag on the table nearby
“I don’t know why you bother. You hardly live there”
He shrugs and proceeds to the kitchen while Vincent heads to the bedroom to change.
“Cheese? Butter?”
“Ah… butter! No… cheese! Cheese please!”
Michael opens the lower left cabinet and brings out a big plastic bowl, tapping it to the tune of popping kernels.
“Ay bobo. I haven’t done the laundry. Do you mind wearing my shirt? Everything you have here is in the hamper”
“It’s fine. Just don’t make me wear yellow”
He hears Vincent laugh and he chuckles along, placing the big plastic bowl with popcorn on the coffee table. He peeks in the bedroom and catches the shirt Vincent throws at him.
“I said cheese” Vincent grumbles as he spots the big plastic bowl and the little mistake earns Michael a smack on the head as Vincent brushes past him. He rolls his eyes as he changes.
They settle on the couch and it’s Michael’s turns to grumble.
“Your couch is small”
“I know”
It’s not big enough for them to sit beside each other comfortably so Vincent always ends up with his feet dangling over the armrest and his head on Michael’s lap. He can’t see very well but at least the big plastic bowl is right on his stomach.
The late news ends and Michael begins flipping through the channel.
“Oh God, it’s Wicker Park” Michael flinches as he switches to HBO. They’ve watched the movie far too many times not to know its every single frame.
Vincent lets out a muffled triumphant expression, spewing bits of popcorn on his shirt. Michael picks it off and scowls at him.
I’ve been watching your world from afar. I’ve been trying to be where you are.
“Stand up you idiot! She’s right behind you!”
Michael shakes his head, “Every time Vincent. Every time”
Vincent looks up at him, kernel stuck between his two front teeth.
Michael chuckles and sighs, “I hate this movie”
“I know.
They watch as Josh Hartnett and Diane Krueger fall in love.
Fictionalized Facts 