From A to Z

X

Adam stayed in his room for the rest of the day. He did not worry about his classes since they were over last week. Although he had to get his clearance papers signed to complete the requirements for his graduation, he could not — and would not dare — go back to his school. His schoolmates would only call him names, either as a homosexual or a murderer; he preferred none of the two.

As he laid there on his bed, the memories of his final semester in St. Joseph flashed on the blank white ceiling of his room: the outreach program and the calming beauty of M. Kiling; the tenth-anniversary exhibit, including the preparations for that event and all the praises he received, most especially from the former Alphas, the people he looks up to the most; the Initiation Rites and the high number of new members of their fraternity; the visit to the amusement park after three years; the club and his nasty body shots experience; his one-night stand; and all the mistakes he made whether sober or drunk.

Everything was in black and white — except for the moments he spent with Zach which was full of color.

He knew from the moment that he saw him that he was something else, that he was different. He stood out from the plain canvass he called life. He stood out when he should not have. Yet despite that, he allowed their relationship to grow into something more than just mere acquaintance.

The pedestrian did not want to admit it, but it was he who fostered the flower he discovered on the sidewalk; it was he who gave it water, fed it with fertilizer, and built a fence around it to shield it from the other pedestrians who did not give an ounce of care or notice to its peculiar beauty — he gave all of those things even if the flower did not ask any.

The pedestrian befriended the flower on his own accord. And now that the people around him are mocking him, calling him names, calling him "crazy" for taking care of a random flower that grew on the sidewalk instead of a garden where it rightfully belongs, he threw back the blame to the innocent flower to save himself. He turned the tide, turned the anger, away from him and towards the flower and made the other pedestrians believe that he was lured by the flower to do the things that he did for it — and his pedestrian stupidity almost killed the flower he once admired very much.

A knock roused him from his reverie. It was only then that he realized that it was already nightfall.

"Can I come in?"

Adam sat up on his bed and allowed him to enter. Mateo avoided his gaze as he silently crossed the space between the door and his bed where he sat on the edge, his back towards him. No one spoke up and the silence only consumed Adam more.

"Is... Is he alright?" Adam hesitated to ask.

Mateo only nodded in response.

Adam wanted to ask more about Zach's condition, but he felt he was in no position to act as if he cared for him after almost choking him to death. He would only make a hypocrite of himself.

Instead, he waited for Mateo to lunge at him and hurt him to avenge Zach, for Mateo to wrap his hands around his neck, as tight as he could, similar to what he did to Zach. Adam would not complain should Mateo do so; he was more than willing to die now because it was the only way to escape the guilt that was tormenting him inside.

But Mateo did no such thing. He did not even move a muscle and remained where he was seated.

After a couple more silent minutes, Mateo finally spoke up:

"Remember when I saw you and Zach in the library one time? I must admit, I was very surprised to find you spending time with him. Not that there's something wrong with it; trust me, there isn't. I simply didn't expect that someone like you would befriend someone like Zach." Mateo tilted his head as he said the next words: "I know that you know that he's a person that you despise... that he's gay."