The sun had fully set, and the sky was now a deep shade of indigo. Lights from streetlamps and open karaoke bars flickered to life.
Ears could capture the faint sound of off-key singing in the distance mixed with the rhythmic crashing of waves, and especially, the sound of their footsteps on the amber lit pavement.
The air had cooled, but the night still held the warmth of the day, a humid warmth that clung to their skin like an embrace or a sweater.
Felix and Matthew walked side by side down the narrow street, the evening breeze carrying the scent of saltwater and grilled meat from nearby stalls. Matthew, tall and imposing, glanced towards the sea. His sharp features—the defined jawline, his sharp nose and his otherwordly green eyes, contrasted with his wavy brown hair, and the softness of his profile.
The locals seemed to love it, their stares fixed first to his face then they trace along the lines and edges of his sultry proportions which were decorated with tattoos—intricate tribal designs that seemed to wound around his arms like stories etched into his skin.
They swooned, exchanged whispers, and he didn't seem to mind—as if this kind of attention was normal for him. Felix, like those onlookers, enjoyed the view and maybe more so than he was allowed to—well, how could he just look away? Matthew was magnetic, and he was getting away with every second of it.
"..."
Felix's stare lingered a little too long, his curiosity overtaking his caution, until Matthew abruptly turned his head and locked eyes with him—Busted.
"It's rude to stare without proper reason," but Felix stared respectfully, at least, that's what he thought he was doing.
Felix quickly snapped his gaze away, flustered. "I wasn't staring at you," he muttered, though his tone wasn't entirely persuasive. "I was... I was just lost in thought."
"Really?" Matthew grunted in response, his expression etched with doubt. The English lilt in his voice made the words sound lighter, almost teasing, it was a tone that Felix couldn't help but find exquisite. The way Matthew's accent wrapped around each word seemed so refined.
Felix had always found the British accent fascinating, though some of his friends would mock it, reciting exaggerated versions of different words. To him, it was like music, the perfect sound to soothe his nerves.
Wanting to keep the conversation going, Felix saw an opportunity to fulfill Tita Helen's request. "So, uh... you know, our Barangay is one of the prides of our municipality."
Felix, eager to share more about his hometown, continued, "One of the gems of our barangay is Lugo Beach. It's a peaceful and beautiful spot where the calm tide just relaxes every nerve in your body. The scenery is extravagant and lovely, and we have these floating cottages—the staff are really accommodating and friendly, always ready to lend a helping hand. "
Matthew's expression remained indifferent, his gaze fixed ahead as they walked.
Undeterred, Felix pressed on, "And not far from here is the La Virgen Milagrosa Chapel. It's a beautiful chapel that commemorates the arrival of La Virgen Milagrosa de Badoc. If you lOoOok closely, it actually resembles an upturned boat!"
Matthew's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
"Oh! Maybe you've heard of Badoc Island, that is if Tita Helen mentioned them?" He paused, and grasped his chin. "It's relatively untouched and a popular spot for diving and surfing." Smiling softly, he remembers the time where Gray lost his swimming trunks while they were surfing—the haydays.
"They rece— "
Matthew abruptly stopped walking and turned to Felix, his eyes flashing with irritation. "Do you ever stop talking?" he snapped, his words cutting through the night air. "Not everyone wants a running commentary on every bloody landmark."
Felix recoiled slightly, taken aback by the sudden outburst. "I... I was just trying to share—"
"Well, don't," Matthew interrupted, his voice cold. "Silence can be golden, you know."
An awkward stillness settled between them, and Felix clenched his jaw, biting back a retort as they continued on in tense silence. He glanced at Matthew from the corner of his eye, his irritation bubbling just beneath the surface.
Felix huffed silently to himself. This guy is SO rude! he thought. You'd think someone with a face like that would at least have the decency to act like more friendly. But NooOOoo, apparently being pretty means you get to stomp all over other people's enthusiasm!
"..."
"..."
Getting angry won't help anything. Maybe—just maybe, if he can just get him talking about something he likes, he'll lighten up a bit. No one can stay crabby forever, right?
He glanced at him, who was walking frigidly, like a tin soldier marching on rusted joints, his expression cold as ice. Felix hesitated for a moment before deciding to take another chance.
"So," Felix began, his tone softer, more tentative this time. "What's London like? Or, I guess, the UK in general? I've never been, but it sounds like such an amazing place."
Matthew let out an audible groan, throwing his head back as if the very question physically pained him. "If I tell you," he said, his green eyes locking onto Felix's, sharp and piercing, "Will you finally shut up?"
Felix blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of the reply. But instead of taking offense, he smiled and nodded. "Deal. One story about London, and I promise I'll keep my mouth shut for the rest of the walk."
Matthew sighed heavily, running a hand through his wavy brown hair. "Fine," he muttered. "London is... gray. Crowded. Expensive. The people are just as cold as the weather, and it rains more than it should."
Felix tilted his head, intrigued despite Matthew's dour description. "That's it? No favorite places? No fond memories?"
Matthew shot him a look that seemed glass cutting. "You said one story. That's all you're getting."
Felix mocked, in sarcasm despite himself. "Alright. Gray, crowded, and rainy. Sounds charming in its own way, I guess."
Felix respected his promise, keeping his mouth shut. Well, it's not as if any conversation will do them any good, though his mind buzzed with more or less how ill-mannered this guy was.
Then he groaned—Matthew did, but it wasn't out of fury or annoyance nor things in between. It was slightly wistful—as if he was just letting his poor thoughts go.
"It's not all bad," Matthew began, his voice quieter now, the edge in his tone dulled. Felix turned his head slightly but stayed quiet, sensing that this was an opportunity he shouldn't interrupt.
"London," Matthew continued, his green eyes locked on Felix's hazel gaze, "has its moments. There's a park near where I used to live—Hampstead Heath. It's massive. You can stand on the hill, Parliament Hill, and see the whole city stretched out in front of you. On a good day, when the sun actually decides to show its face, it's... peaceful."
Felix blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy in Matthew's words. His voice had lost its coldness, replaced with something almost vulnerable.
"There's this old pub near the Heath, too," Matthew added, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "The kind of place that feels like it's been there forever. Wooden beams, a fireplace, the works. They make the best shepherd's pie I've ever had. It's the only thing I miss on rainy days."
Felix didn't dare speak, afraid that the spell would break if he so much as opened his mouth. He just listened, his earlier irritation melting away as he listened to Matthew's talk.
He noticed the subtle changes: the flicker in Matthew's eyes as he mentioned the pub, dilating with innocent joy. Even his stride softened, as though the act of remembering had momentarily lifted some unseen weight off his shoulders.
Maybe he's frustrated because he misses his home...
"And the Thames..." He paused, his smile widening a little. "The river...It's filthy, honestly. But there's something about walking along it at night. The way the city lights reflect on the water, the sound of boats cutting through the current... It's not bad. Sometimes it even feels like home."
The words hung in the air, heavy with a quiet longing that Felix hadn't expected. For a moment, Matthew's mask slipped—he was infuriating, shrewd, but when it came to his home, the heart would always get the best of him. Now, he's oceans from it, a part of his affection lost—leaving him a bit more distant than he was aware.
Felix smiled softly, his earlier frustrations now a distant memory. "That... actually sounds nice," he said gently, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
Matthew, cleared his throat as if giving himself a full reset before he glanced at him. Shifting, he hardened his expression, as if realizing he'd let himself be too open. "Don't get used to it," he said brusquely, his sharp tone ambling back to his tongue. "I'm not here to swap stories."
Felix chuckled, unfazed by the abrupt shift. "That's fair. But for what it's worth, you make it seem like the city's cozy,"
"Honestly, it seemed like I was listening to one of those documentary podcasts," he added.
Matthew didn't reply, but he didn't snap at Felix either. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and continued walking, the faintest trace of that plaintive look remaining in his eyes.
"We're here,"