Just a little more

III. Chapter 5 - Jealousy

Jealousy: n. A feeling based on the desire to possess a loved one and the fear of losing her to a rival.

***

Becky has gone home. I'm alone again in my apartment. Lying on the bed, I think back to last night and smile stupidly. I pick up my cell phone and play "Stay", a song she recorded especially for me. I close my eyes and hum the lyrics.

"...Something in the way you move
Makes me feel like I can't live without you..."

I know it's risky. Just don't tell anyone.

" ... And I want you to stay..."

I can't afford it, not now, not like this.

"...But I'm the only one who needed saving..."

A tear gently trickles down.

I'll tell you everything, I promise. But for now I'd just like us to enjoy ourselves, just the two of us, without restraint or judgment. A little... just a little more... more... and more... without thinking about anything.

My phone rings. I stare at the name on the screen. I take a deep breath and reject the call. Becky's angelic voice echoes through the room again. I smile as my tears fall deeper and deeper.

"...Ooh, 'cause I need this hole gone..."

I cry silently for long minutes, both sad and happy, the music on repeat.

***

Five days ago, it was the premiere of Becky's new film, "Long Live Love", in which she plays Namo. I surprised her by being there and brought her a bouquet of flowers that I created and ordered myself. They're fake, yes, but at least she'll be able to keep them for a long time and remember this premiere. Because more will come soon, that's for sure. Becky's career is just beginning. She has a great future ahead of her. She's more focused, more of a fighter and less sensitive than I am. I'm much more unstable, emotional and sensitive. I don't know if I'm cut out for this business, but with her by my side, I know I can do it.

She's my emotional pillar. She's my everything.

At first, I didn't want to go to the premiere, I didn't want to be the center of attention, and I didn't want Freenbecky to be the center of attention. I wanted her to be the only one to shine. But the director called me and I agreed to come and surprise her. It was great publicity for the film, and at the same time I was happy to be there for her. Becky's an introvert and this kind of event is hard for her, so there's a lot of preparation beforehand.

She looked stunning in her black evening gown, one shoulder off and a large train she held. The black of her makeup deepened her eyes and the dark red of her lips enlarged her already perfect smile. So beautiful. I watched her every move, listened attentively to everything she said. I was under her spell, as was everyone else present that evening. I shouted her name and "Suay Mak" (very beautiful) with enthusiasm. I was happy for her.

When I approached her with my bouquet, I saw her surprise but also her embarrassment and I felt like letting go of everything, taking her in my arms and holding her tight to reassure her. But everyone was watching us.

The slightest gesture, the slightest word, the slightest look, everything was recorded and analyzed.

No, you just need to control your breathing, pretend nothing's happened, keep moving, take a few photos and get back to your seat.

When the evening was over, of all the bouquets she'd received, she was holding only mine, as if her life depended on it. It made my heart ache.

No matter how much I made her walk in front, staying close to her parents at the back, she would always retrace her steps to end up next to me. A natural attraction, a need to be side by side, to reassure each other, to touch each other, to feel each other.

How I would have loved to spend the night with her again, just the two of us. Kissing her, caressing her, talking to her about her talent, her film, her future... ours? Since our first night together, we haven't had an intimate moment. Work, classes, personal life, family, production... not a minute of peace and quiet and I miss her. Of course, there have been a few messages, we've seen each other quickly during a photo shoot, a few delicate gestures, hidden caresses, glances full of innuendo, but nothing really intimate.

In three days' time, after the event with IDF and the promotion of her film, we'll meet up in the Philippines for the big fan meeting. I can't wait. We're going to be able to get together, rediscover our world, our pleasures, find her again.

I miss the smell of her skin.

I know... I shouldn't feel this way. I'm not being honest with her. I'm not honest with anyone. But she's my strength and the one I've always loved. How can I refuse her proposal? How can I refuse the intimacy she offers me that I've always dreamed of? I just can't. I want to make the most of it. I'm selfish, I know. But for the moment, I can't really promise or offer her anything. I want to be sure of myself, of us, of our career. It's too important and I don't want us to make the same mistake twice.

***

When we first started out, the fans flirted a lot with Becky. She was so young and beautiful. She didn't see the harm, she was flattered and would respond to advances by joking and making me jealous.

And it worked. I hated it.

What right did the fans have to hit on her like that? What right did she have to smile at them? Why dress so short? So naked? Why such a sexy dance? I had this sadness, this anger, sometimes even this disgust towards her. We'd just started dating, and as much as I tried to control myself, the idea that she might meet other people or even like being hit on drove me crazy. I blamed her reactions, her actions, even the most innocent ones, I spied on her lives, her internet accounts, her outings, with whom, where, how... it was all I could think about. It's also my fault that our relationship at the time was a failure. I smothered her, tried to control her. I had too many emotions and I didn't know how to control them.

When the situation was no longer livable, we decided to remain friends and I immediately thought that she wanted to be free of me to meet other people. I felt inferior. I was afraid. For a while I kept my distance. You could tell during the events, and the fans started talking about it.

Becky and I don't come from the same background at all. Not the same money, education, origins or worldview. Her luxurious gifts were both flattering and demeaning. She never cleaned, made her bed, cooked, nothing. Everything was served to her on a platter. I started working very young to help my mother, who was alone. I lived in the country, and took a bus that took over an hour to get to school. I worked hard to get where I am, and I did it all by myself. I deserve a lot of credit. Idol Factory was an incredible opportunity for me. But my world is so far removed from her. How can we understand each other?

And if it all ended tomorrow, Becky would become a lawyer and probably move back to England to start a new life.... Me?.... I don't know.

But for the past year I've been trying to control myself whenever I see her with someone. I know I have no rights over her, but I can't help it. I stand between the fans and her, I cover her up if she's too naked, not because production wants me to, but because I don't want an extra bit of skin to be seen by those horny, libidinous fans, ravenous presenters and other people who would hang around her.

Becky is mine... only mine.