In the weeks that followed, Liam tried to keep up the facade of normalcy, diving headfirst into his studies and spending time with friends, hoping it would keep his mind off Llyad. But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to him. Each ignored message and every casual mention of Llyad by a mutual friend tugged at his resolve, filling him with guilt and longing.
One Friday afternoon, after a particularly exhausting week of exams, Liam decided to take a break and walk around campus. The campus grounds were a mixture of golden sunlight and crisp autumn leaves, a picturesque escape that he hoped might quiet the storm inside him.
As he wandered through the paths winding around the main buildings, he spotted a familiar spot in the distance—a small wooden bench beneath a sprawling narra tree at the park. The sight of it brought a bittersweet smile to his lips. It was here, under this very tree, that he had first met Llyad so many years ago, when they were both just children in the Philippines.
The memory surfaced as if it had happened only yesterday. Liam had been nine, a quiet and reserved boy, carefully observing the world around him. His family had recently moved to a new neighborhood, and everything felt foreign and intimidating. It was during one of those hot, restless afternoons that he had wandered outside, hoping to find some distraction.
He heard laughter echoing down the street, bright and carefree. Curious, he followed the sound and found himself watching a small group of kids huddled around someone who stood out from the rest—a boy with bright eyes, an infectious smile, and an undeniable sense of confidence. Even at that young age, Llyad seemed to carry an energy that was both magnetic and effortless.
Liam watched from the sidelines, too shy to approach. He hadn't expected to be noticed, but suddenly, Llyad looked directly at him and grinned. "Hey! You, come join us!" he called, waving him over.
Liam hesitated, but there was something about Llyad's open smile and the way he gestured so freely that made him feel safe. With tentative steps, he approached the group, his heart pounding in his chest. Before he knew it, he was drawn into their game, laughing and running alongside them, the weight of his insecurities momentarily forgotten.
That day marked the beginning of their friendship, a bond that grew stronger with each passing year. They spent countless afternoons together, sharing secrets and exploring their small town, often sneaking out to the nearby river or climbing trees, challenging each other to reach the highest branches. Llyad had become the brother Liam never had, a person who saw him in a way no one else did.
It was also the beginning of something else—something Liam couldn't quite understand back then. The flutter in his chest when Llyad laughed, the warmth that filled him every time Llyad playfully teased him, and the quiet comfort that settled in whenever they were alone together. But it wasn't until their teenage years that Liam truly began to grasp the depth of his feelings.
One memory, in particular, stood out. They were sixteen, sprawled on the grass one humid evening, staring up at the stars. Their conversation had drifted to dreams and aspirations, as it often did. Llyad had just finished talking about his desire to travel, to see the world and find his place in it. He turned to Liam, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"So, what about you, Liam? What's your dream?"
Liam hesitated. He wanted to say so much—to tell Llyad how much he meant to him, how he couldn't imagine his life without him. But instead, he settled for something safe. "I just want to be happy, I guess."
Llyad chuckled, nudging him playfully. "Come on, that's too vague! I know you better than that."
Liam's heart raced as he struggled to find words that wouldn't betray his feelings. But in that moment, all he could think was, If I were a woman, loving you wouldn't be a sin.
He kept the words to himself, though they echoed in his mind, a truth too dangerous to speak aloud. From that moment on, he knew he was carrying a secret that would shape the rest of his life, a forbidden feeling that would only grow stronger with time.
Back in the present, Liam sat down on the bench beneath the narra tree, letting the memory wash over him. He could still see the younger versions of themselves running across the grass, laughing and carefree, untouched by the complexities of love and identity. He missed those days, missed the simplicity of a friendship that hadn't yet been complicated by hidden emotions and unspoken words.
As he sat there, lost in thought, he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up, and his heart nearly stopped. It was Llyad, walking towards him with a surprised yet delighted expression on his face.
"Liam! I didn't expect to see you here," Llyad said, his smile as radiant as ever.
Liam forced a smile, trying to keep his composure. "Hey, Llyad. Yeah, I was just… taking a break."
They stood there for a moment, a tension hanging in the air that neither of them seemed to acknowledge but both could feel. Llyad sat down beside him, glancing up at the narra tree's branches swaying gently in the breeze.
"Remember when we used to come here as kids?" Llyad asked, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips. "Feels like it was a lifetime ago."
Liam nodded, his throat tight. "Yeah, I remember."
Llyad turned to him, his gaze intense. "You know, I've missed this. Us. We don't hang out like we used to, and I don't know… It feels like something's changed between us."
Liam felt a pang in his chest. He wanted to reach out, to bridge the distance he had created, but the fear held him back. Instead, he simply said, "College has been… busy. I didn't mean to pull away."
Llyad's expression softened. "Well, maybe we can change that. Let's hang out more, like old times. I miss my best friend."
The words hit Liam like a punch. Best friend. It was what they had always been, and yet it wasn't enough. But he forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, I'd like that."
Liam glanced away, feeling the weight of the words that he couldn't say. He was an English Education major now, and he had thought that immersing himself in books and studies would make it easier to escape his own story. But every lesson, every poem about love and longing, only seemed to draw him closer to the truth he wanted to ignore. Meanwhile, Llyad, who had always been so brilliant and driven, was studying to be a doctor, specializing in the human brain. Llyad had once shared that he wanted to understand people deeply, even down to their thoughts and emotions.
As they sat there, side by side under the narra tree, Liam felt the familiar ache resurface. He could try to keep up the facade, to pretend that their friendship was all he needed. But the words he had once thought echoed in his mind, as clear as ever: If I were a woman, loving you wouldn't be a sin.
Yet here he was, still yearning for a love he couldn't have, caught between friendship and a truth too painful to admit.