RAJ

Some battles are just not meant to be won no matter how hard you fight.

It was only now that I finally came to the conclusion that I've been missing Frankie a lot these days. Lately, we're only connected via radio waves while I listen to him host his midnight radio program; other times, we mostly talk through the occasional video calls and chats, but hardly do we meet in person anymore. He seems to be doing fine. He's always telling the callers they're lucky for getting through, then he will laugh at his joke, before proceeding with the rest of the show. He did that every weekday midnight just like this.

"How's your heart?" he said with a light chuckle as we both wait for the caller to respond.

"It's okay, DJ Frankie," the woman at the end of the line answered. "Actually—I take that back. My heart's not doing fine at the moment," she backtracked, laughing somberly.

"Of course, of course," Frankie's DJ voice is clear and resounding, energetic and entertaining as he always was during these interviews. He let out a comical sigh before saying, "You'd have to have your heart broken, otherwise the show would stop existing. So keep breaking your hearts, ladies and gentlemen." The caller laughed, still, and I, smiling to myself, alone in my apartment, couldn't help but mirror the sentiment.

It was only now that the realization kicked in—we've known each other for all our lives, Frankie and I. We practically grew up together; we lived in the same neighborhood as children, went to the same schools, had the same friend group. YMT3, those weirdos. I'd say it's my fault we kind of drifted apart, but trying to make amends would probably be worse.

What we've gone through is hard to erase, even by absence. What happened between us had stuck with me since. And to be honest, I don't want to forget anyway. If that makes me a bad person, then call me the Devil. But I can't live a life without Frankie in it. I'd rather we have this distance but have the cords that connect us still tied and secured on both ends than walk past each other at a shopping mall and try to pretend we never met before.

Moments like these pass by so strangely. I'm listening in to Frankie's radio program and have become completely unaware of my surroundings. It was only after the fifth call that I heard my phone rang. Seeing that it's Harvey, I know I'm about to get an earful.

"Hello?"

The caller waited for the DJ to respond, with his usual jokes and jabs at how brokenhearted he must be to be calling his radio station. The DJ pushed the laugh track button when he failed to get a reaction from the caller. 

I missed the old DJ for LOVE TOK. OTL Radio's brave for replacing someone like Papa Thor; he basically pioneered Love Confession segments on FM radio. This DJ—I forgot what he's called and I don't think it'd ever stick—his jokes are bad and he's awfully machismo and, despite his failed attempts to be discreet, rude towards women callers.

Forget it. No matter how badly I needed to listen to love advice, I can't look past DJ Whoever's stupid voice and wrong opinion. In the end, it's just my room's ceiling and I against the world once more. Like all the nights that came before. And probably all the nights that will ever night in the future. I just need to know what to do with these feelings, oh my God!

"Hoy, Raj!" Frankie said it at the exact moment he stepped through the door he burst open. This guy had the confidence of my mom, feeling at home just barging into his neighbor's room unannounced. And it's freaking 12:13 in the AM too.

I told him, "I see you've found yourself in here again." One can never go wrong by greeting an intruder that unceremoniously entered another person's room without even knocking with a healthy doze of sarcasm. "You got lost on your way to your own damn house again? It's the one next to this one in case you've forgotten. Again."

"You said 'again' three times like a broken record."

"What do you want, Frankie-Frank? It's not exactly the best time right now."

Frankie's confidence is truly a sight to behold. He just walked right inside and sat at the foot of my bed like he lived here. It's obvious he's about to sleep himself, judging by his old-shirt-with-a-hole-on-its-shoulder and the faded green trousers two-piece ensemble he had on. "Why? Because your Papa Thor is no longer hosting the love confessions program on the radio?" he asked as he promptly stood up and waddled towards my study table beside my bed. He got preoccupied with messing around with the drawer shortly thereafter.

"No. It's because it's midnight, Frankie. You creep." There goes the peace. I stretched and sighed, massaging the stiffness on my shoulders that got reignited when I suddenly sat up. I don't like the smell and feel of rubbing oil. And taking pain relievers tend to slip my mind. "What do you want? I know I asked that already, so don't point it out anymore and just answer it, please."

"Are you sleepy already?"

"Francisco Medina, what is it?" I asked a third time, like the broken record he thought I was, hoping that the emphasis I put on his name didn't go unnoticed by him.

"I was just wondering what your plan is for our final project in Sir P's class." He rolled his eyes and sat by the chair in front of my study table, still tinkering with the textbooks lined up against the wall.

"Are you being serious? You really went here in the dead of night just to ask me that?" It sounds like the craziest thing to do, but I'm pretty sure my mom let him in when he knocked at the door. Being a Grade 6 homeroom teacher, she's probably still busy working on her lesson plan in the living room downstairs, and Frankie made the most of it and bothered her again. Sometimes it makes me feel like she secretly wishes Frankie was her son because at times she treats him more favorably than she does with me. "This could've been a text, bro."

Knowing him for, like, my whole life, I've always been familiar with Frankie's weird tendencies. Sometimes he'd show up unannounced, like tonight. Sometimes I catch him staring at me randomly and when I ask he just brushes me off. Now, he's asking me about a school project that he could bring up on Monday, hell, even the next morning. It's not like we won't be seeing each other on weekends when his house is right next to ours.

"It's Gea, isn't it?"

The way he way he said it felt like an accusation. Gea's name left his mouth as if it tasted like the sickly sweet fruit of aratiles we used to pick from our elementary school backyard—he'd immediately spit it out and say, "Surprise! It's still vomit-inducing. I don't know why you like this abomination of a fruit." And I'd be left wondering why he insisted on trying it every time. I asked him, "What about Gea?"

"Come on, Raj. Quit playing dumb."

"I'm not! You're the one bringing up random people into the conversation."

He looked at me then; and his face has already told me many different things before he even opened his mouth. His eyes said, "You're a fool. She's not into you." His pursed lips added, "Haven't you been dropping hints already? And where did that get you? Exactly." And his scrunched up eyebrows implied, "Well, knowing you, you're still probably going to try anyway."

I waited, trying to divert my attention from my own thoughts projecting my disappointment onto my friend, until eventually, he spoke again. "I meant to say, she's probably going to be the muse of your script for our final project."

That's not what he meant to say at all. And I knew that. But I held my tongue and kept my curiosity to myself. "Frankie, you're weird. Let's just talk about this tomorrow, okay? It's already midnight. Go back to your own house and go to sleep."

He sighed, stood up, and said, "You're right," all at the same time. "Fine. Let's just discuss this next time with the others."

I didn't want to push him even though I knew Frankie had a lot more things to say despite choosing to bite his tongue again. He lingered for a little while by the door, his back turned towards me, so to fill the air between us, I said, ​​​​​"Good night, Frankie-Frank."

​​​​​"Good night, Torpedo," he quickly retorted.

​​​​​"Go home!"

Frankie quite literally ran out the door laughing and slammed it behind him. And here I thought he's down in the dumps for whatever reason. But in his typical Frankie manner, one moment, he's grappling with his emotions he refuses to speak about, then the next, he's all peppy and playful again. Sometimes I can't even gauge how an interaction with him will go, so I just let him take things however he sees fit. Knowing him, he's not going to take offense at my banters. Between the two of us, I'm the more broody type anyway.

I'd be lying if I told myself I wasn't afraid. Okay, fine. I'm torpe, I admit. I'm scared to confess my feelings for Gea. I didn't know it was that obvious; or maybe I'm underestimating Frankie's perceptiveness. He can't blame me. Gea's been actively vocalizing how she doesn't agree with falling in love with anyone in the tropa, because to her, we're like her siblings. It would feel wrong if she were to give any one of us a chance at a relationship. Why would she even think that way? She's ultimately closed herself up to the possibility of me even hinting at my feelings for her, while simultaneously dropping me off at the stop to my one-way trip to the Friend Zone. I'm not blaming her, and I'm not saying I'm still going to try and confess, but all I'm saying is...I mean, I just need one chance to prove to her that it's worth it.

Am I selfish if I still want to give this declaration of love a try?

"Maybe, instead of a Love Confession, we can just use a different prompt? Something more original, so we can get better grades from Sir P."

"Oh, my god, Ethan! You're the quickest to turn down our suggestions, but when we ask you for ideas, all you can say is 'up to you'. Don't you have anything else to do besides disapprove of what we come up with?" 

"Come on, Mia. You know Ethan's just messing with you. Don't take him seriously. Am I right, Raj?"

"Raj? Frankie's talking to you. You're up in the clouds again."

Mia's rolling her eyes at me, that's all I've managed to get out of the conversation we're having. We're all sat around one of the stone tables in the mini forest of our campus, waiting for Gea and Jords to come back from buying snacks from the canteen. As promised, we're deliberating for our final project for Sir P's Filipino IV class. We were tasked to showcase our Creative Writing skills in Filipino and given the options to choose between scripting a play or a short film. There's no contest that our group will opt for the short film option, since it's easier and less embarrassing because we won't be performing it in front of an audience live. The only downside would be that we have to prepare the finish product days or preferably weeks ahead of the deadline, including the actual shooting and editing process.

"Ah, whatever. Just make sure we'll impress Sir P," said Mia with dreaminess in her eyes and longing in her voice, sighing like a teenager in love. Well, she might be. I'd have to agree, Sir P, as the Seniors like to call him, is truly the perfect male specimen for high school girls. He's tall, handsome, semi-tan, not too dark. We call him Sir P because the students claim he looks like Papa P, even though his actual name is Joshua Hontiveros. Even Gea thinks he's crush material.

"Not you pretending to be straight," Frankie quipped, making Mia glare at him.

"Excuse you. I'm still bi, 'no!" Mia argued.

"No, you're in denial," Frankie responded.

"Yeah, because you know a lot about being in denial, right?" And at this, an awkward silence fell upon us quicker than the give-and-take had started. Mia stuck out her tongue at the stunned Frankie, who clambered to his feet upon catching sight of the approaching forms of Gea and Jords.

"So? How's the brainstorming going?" asked Gea. She took the empty seat beside me while Jords instantly found his way next to Ethan. Those two are like magnets, always pulling each other close and inciting chaos the moment they come together. As soon as Jords plopped himself on the bench, him and Ethan are immediately laughing at something the rest of us have no clue about. And with Frankie busying himself with helping Gea and Jords put down the food and drinks they've bought, all while still keeping silent as Mia continued to relentlessly bug him, naturally, I had to be the one to answer Gea's question.

"We're still trying to come up with a prompt, unfortunately," I told her.

"I thought a theme around love confession had already been settled?" she asked again.

"It's already fine with me," Mia chimed in. "Besides, Raj is going to be the one writing the script anyway. So the main idea should come from him."

"Me?"

"Sounds good."

"Oh, see? Even Gea agrees. Ethan's the only one being difficult anyway."

"I was just kidding, okay," Ethan said defensively. "Well, half-kidding. Think about it. If we manage to come up with something unique, not only will we get the best grade, who knows, maybe we'll actually be discovered by StarFilms and get block