Bawal ka umuwi.
You said it with a playful smile and a sidelong glance, and it thrills me.
I like how you can act all goofy around me, so different from how you usually present yourself to the world. I like that about you. When you became known to me, I saw our classmates raise you high above them. While that may have been pleasant for your ego, I’ve seen it happen before and I felt for you. I saw a quiet, lonely boy, about to be labeled by that dreaded of labels—nice.
Nice is the polite word people use when they don’t actually know you. Polite is what people are when they don’t know you but you are useful to them and they have to keep up appearances. You were nice, you were very good at being nice and polite and pleasant, and I hated it.
So little by little, I looked for your smile. Not the frozen one reserved for cameras and strangers, but the one that creeps up your lips without your permission when I say or do something silly. If you laugh at me, it’s a small price to pay to see yo