Chapter 11 Cry

Chapter 11 Cry
We entered the house hand in hand. Almost every guest turned to look at us—especially at our intertwined fingers. I ignored the stares and walked straight toward Angela’s table.

I wanted to bring him to the person he was most comfortable with. I’ll admit it wasn’t just because I wanted to talk to him. The day I spoke to him at the 7-Eleven, I had seen the exhaustion in his eyes—the dark circles underneath, the slumped shoulders.

Just imagine: after studying all day, instead of resting, he still had to work. Aside from being a cashier at both 7-Eleven and Starbucks, I had no idea what other jobs he had. I didn’t ask. It wasn’t my business.

Before we could reach Angela’s table, Mom and Dad intercepted us. Their eyes went from me to Ethan, then straight to our joined hands.

“Lucas,” Mom’s voice came out louder than usual.

I felt Ethan slowly pull his hand away from mine. When I glanced at him, he had already lowered his head, both hands now shoved into his pockets.

“Are you in a relationship with Lucas?” Mom asked, then immediately pulled Ethan into a hug. “You’re so handsome. Are you sure about my son?”

Ethan answered her questions shyly, clearly embarrassed.

Mom reached over and tapped Kuya Dave, who was talking to one of the guests. His gaze shifted from me to Ethan.

“It's your brother boyfriend,” Mom said to Kuya, practically glowing with excitement.

“Nice meeting y—” Kuya started, but Ethan cut him off in a panic.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Ethan said quickly, then turned to me with a pleading look, silently asking for help.

Was this a low-key rejection? That actually hurt, hearing it right in front of everyone. Fine, let him explain it himself. He’s old enough. But when he secretly tugged at the hem of my shirt, I finally spoke up.

“He’s not my boyfriend ye—” I didn’t even finish before he smacked my arm. I was only teasing him because it was obvious how nervous he was. I turned back to Mom and Kuya. “This is Ethan…”

I didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t exactly call him a friend when he hadn’t even accepted my Facebook request.

“My schoolmate,” I added lamely.

Mom dramatically clutched her chest. “Just a schoolmate? Kuya, I thought he was Baby’s boyfriend already.” I cringed at the word “baby.” If she saw how big my “little dragon” was, she probably wouldn’t call me baby anymore.

I quickly excused us from Mom and Kuya and continued walking with Ethan toward my friends’ table. The moment we got close, all eyes turned to him.

“You’re here,” Angela said, surprised. “You told me you couldn’t make it.” She grabbed Ethan’s arm and pulled him closer.

I let her take him, hoping it would help ease his trembling.

“You invited him?” Yohan asked me while sipping from his cup.

“Yeah,” I answered casually.

“I feel some tension here,” Martin said, starting to approach me, but when he saw the warning look on my face, he stopped and just draped an arm around Yohan instead.

I scanned our group. Almost everyone was still there, except for Kiefer and Kian. Caleb said Kian had gotten too drunk, so Kiefer had taken him up to one of the guest rooms on the second floor. The problem was, Kiefer hadn’t come back down either.

I walked over to Angela, who was sitting beside Ethan. When she noticed me, she turned with a glare.

“What do you want?” she asked sharply.

I ignored her and looked at Ethan instead.

“Have you eaten?” I asked.

He stared at me for a second, as if making sure I was talking to him. “I already did,” he replied.

Angela suddenly burst out laughing. This girl must be losing it. How many shots had she taken? Earlier she was mad, now she was laughing out of nowhere.

“He said he already ate. Are you really going to waste all the food you prepared?” she teased.

Since it was my party, I tried to mingle with all the guests. But every few minutes, my eyes kept drifting back to Ethan. Sometimes our gazes would meet, but he would quickly look away.

I got busy talking to Mom and Dad’s business friends. The conversations were repetitive—mostly about different deals, and whether I planned to take over the family business. They were already drunk, so the topics kept circling.

Eventually, I decided to return to my friends’ table. Before talking to the guests earlier, I had made sure to bring Ethan some food. I hoped he had eaten it.

As I approached, I noticed Ethan was now holding a red cup. So he was drinking? I thought he was a good boy. But honestly, it was good to see him finally relaxing and not thinking about work.

The moment I reached them, Sydney handed me a drink. I took it and downed it in one gulp, wincing at the burn.

Most of Mom and Dad’s guests had already left. Only my friends remained.

It was almost midnight, so we were all just taking shot after shot.

I moved to sit beside Ethan when I noticed he could no longer stand properly. I pressed closer to him so he’d have something to lean on if he lost his balance.

We were all having fun when Gasolina by Daddy Yankee suddenly blasted through the speakers.

A ella le gusta la gasolina…
Dame más gasolina…

We jumped, danced, and swayed our hands to the beat. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ethan smiling. It was the first time I had ever seen him smile, and it looked really good on him. He became even more striking when he smiled.

Because he had already drunk quite a bit, I kept my hand on his back, ready to steady him if needed.

Angela screamed loudly while looking at Yohan and Martin. Yohan was grinning shamelessly at the obvious bulge in Martin’s pants. You could tell Yohan was really drunk when he started acting like this. We always tried to stop him from getting too wasted because he’d do the dumbest things—only to act calm and innocent the next day, as if nothing happened.

In my own drunken haze, I didn’t realize that the hand I had placed on Ethan’s back to support him had now slipped around his waist. He didn’t seem to notice—he was already tipsy too.

His once-pale skin had turned flushed and red. He turned to me with half-lidded eyes, then quickly looked away whenever I caught him staring.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He met my eyes. “I’m getting sleepy,” he mumbled.

I wanted to ask Angela where Ethan lived so I could drive him home, but she was already knocked out—slumped over the table with her head down.

Instead of asking for his address, I decided it would be better if he just stayed the night. It was already too late.

As we walked down the hallway on the second floor toward my room, he suddenly spoke.

“Where are you taking me…” He stared at me intensely. “I’m so tired of this kind of work. Let me just rest, please?” He looked like a little kid now—someone who just wanted to sleep and finally rest.

I gently laid him down on my bed. Then I went to the bathroom to get a basin of water and a towel.

I sat on the edge of the bed, placed the basin beside me, and started giving him a sponge bath.

I carefully removed his pants. Luckily, he was wearing shorts underneath. Next, I took off his black shirt. I gently wiped his body with the wet towel—his arms, neck, and forehead. He groaned softly when I tried to wipe his legs.

He suddenly grabbed the hand holding the towel. His eyes met mine. We stared at each other until a tear slipped from the corner of his eye.

I wanted to wipe it away, but for some reason, I let it fall. The tears kept coming, as if they had been held back for a very long time and could no longer be contained.

He opened his eyes and looked at me sharply. “You’re not going to do what they did to me, right? But if you’re just like them… then do it, Draven.”

His gaze stayed fixed on me, waiting for my response.

I closed my eyes for a moment. I didn’t fully understand what he meant. Was he trying to tell me something he couldn’t say directly?

When I opened my eyes again, Ethan was quietly sobbing. I moved closer and gently ruffled his hair.

He looked surprised at first, but then he closed his eyes and continued crying.

My chest tightened when his soft sobs turned into audible cries. I lay down on the bed beside him, facing him. I lifted his head and placed it on my arm, letting it serve as his pillow.

I gently pulled his face against my chest and let him cry there. It was the first time I had ever seen a man cry like this—completely consumed by his emotions. I didn’t know what to do, so I simply stroked his back, hoping he could feel that tonight, in front of me, it was okay to be weak.

I kissed the top of his head and closed my eyes, silently praying that God would guide Ethan and give him the light he needed. I didn’t know what he was going through, but I hoped he would find the strength to hold on to.

We stayed like that while I kept thinking about what his earlier words could mean. Eventually, without realizing it, I fell asleep too.