Summer Nights

Though shall not make decisions when drunk.

He should have listened to that tiny voice inside him. But drunk men just won't listen.

He spotted the target: semi-bald, a little shorter than he was, girating alone but for the crowd, tiny beads of sweat glisten upon kisses of the disco light.

Tired of pretending to enjoy the company of a rather ordinary looking guy, he left, and walked towards the semi-bald guy. Courage was not a factor, fear was non-existent. He came up and introduced himself. He told him his name.

"You dance pretty well," he said, as a matter of introduction. "I like it. Are you alone?" he asked.
"I was with my friends. They're sleeping by now," he said.

He came close. His lips nearly kissed his neck. He memorized how long it seemed, like an arch of one of those subjects of Leonardo's paintings. How it seemed to look like from someone he once knew.

He came closer, stared at him, and grabbed his butt. For minutes, they were one with the crowd, like an army, possessed by the pulsating music.

"Let's go somewhere else," the man told him.

He did not protest. The man held him by his hands and scurried away, like a vulture that has just grabbed a prey. But he didn't mind.

"So what do you do," he asked the man as they walk on the beach. He asked so he could look at his face, dimly lit by the moonlight, just to check if he looked good.

"I'm a customs broker," he replied.

He seemed to like his strong jaw. And how his thick eyebrows arched like a man's in combat.
They stopped near the man's resort and sat by the stairs. He leaned towards the man, inviting a kiss. He reciprocated. And their tongues locked. For minutes, they were entangled, like long lost lovers.

Then the man moved away.

"Baka hanggang dito lang 'to," the man said, wryly.

"Huh? What do you mean?" he asked, puzzled.

"Are you serious about this?" he said.

For an acquiantence, the man pretty much had a lot of expectations, he thought to himself.

"I dunno. It's too early to tell," he answered, refusing to elaborate.

"Wait a second," the man said and ran towards their room. When he returned he was carrying a black shawl. "Let's go to the beach," he said.

He followed suit. They sat on the beach. The man talked about how he loved him and how he feared he might lose him.

He didn't say anything else. He held him tight in response. But he was not there. His mind wandered to a scene once before when his former boyfriend had just left for abroad. He went to the beach that time, feeling an emotional nearness to wherever his boyfriend was. One wade at the sea and it would send ripples to his ship.

Or how he hoped the moon would mirror him.

The moon shone brightly that night. He looked at it like he did before but this time he knew there was no one else looking on the other side of the world. The full moon stared blankly at him.

And the man he barely knew.