only fools fall (for you) | elias/ibarra

chapter five

Classes have ended an hour ago and it's almost 4pm, but Crisostomo is still in school. The library, to be exact. There's a comfortable silence and stillness surrounding the place, as all libraries should be. The place might be too small to fit actual bookcases, but it's enough for Crisostomo. The school head didn't believe that the library should be a part of the budget allocation, which made him a little mad, but it does have everything a student may need for their students. Educational and recreational books, three sets of computers, and long tables where students can relax have a good read.

That's exactly what Crisostomo is doing, especially that finals is upon him, in like three weeks but it doesn't hurt to prepare early. That's his study routine anyway, and he can't afford losing his scholarship. He has his back turned to a bookcase placed in the darkest and most secluded part of the library. He claims it as his own place. Since no one actually even goes in the library, no one knows this secret spot of his. Crisostomo's left leg is bent whereas his left arm is resting and holding a book he's reading, while his right leg is just propped on the surprisingly carpeted floor. This is where he feels the most relaxed, the bright glare from the windows is kissing his cheek, providing a pleasant warmth.

It's been almost a week since that mall incident with Elias and since then, that's the last time the two of them ever formed any type of communication. So far, he's glad that that's a case. He doesn't want to dwell too much on what happened... there. That stays between the two of them. Between him, at least. The feeling of unease settles in Crisostomo's stomach. Would Elias really dare to tell on him? He shakes the thought away, besides no one would believe him. They would both look bad in everybody, and he's with Maria Clara.

He also decided not to tell Maria anymore. It's not lying, per se, more like abandoning a version of a truth. Who cares if someone else's name is written on his wrist? He loves Maria Clara, that's the truth. People nowadays tend to get so traditional with this soulmate crap, but the truth is; who you love is who you love. Plus, nobody's getting hurt. It's not like Elias is in love with him, anyway.

A brief image of Elias looking at him with those heavy-lidded eyes of his crosses his mind and in Crisostomo's sanctuary of books, he allows himself to blush. No one has ever looked at him like that and he is not sure if he likes it or not. He breathes deeply and tries to dispose of that thought. 'Shit, naka-ilang oras na ba ako dito?' he thinks to himself and immediately decided that he needed to get out of here. Maybe a brisk walk with the fresh air might be good for him. He stands up, picks up all the books he equipped with one hand and returns them to the librarian, giving the old lady a charming smile before gathering his things. Crisostomo grabs his letterman bag and quietly walks towards the exit, closing the doors as gingerly as he could.

Crisostomo scans the hallways, his short legs are already aching from walking too fast, but the pain was ignored by the boy, who is pondering deeply. Once again second-guessing himself he thought about his decision. Would it truly make her happy if she found it that he lied to her? Her birthday is still due for two months, and time is ticking away. Of course, he could just... let her find out all by herself. Lay out the clues for her, see if she gets it. Albeit the thought sounds much easier and honestly, less hassle to handle but it would contradict Crisostomo's morals. Guilt would nag at his conscience and it would not be at all fair with Maria Clara.

"The truth emerges, like a wild animal. The truth is too powerful to be caged."Crisostomo read this somewhere once, and it has stuck with him since.

'Crisostomo, look out!'

He cannot be dishonest to Maria Clara, when all she's ever done is to trust and believe in him.

The poor boy was so lost in his thoughts that he did not hear his name being shouted by other people, or did not see the bat that went flying to him and knocked him out. He fell and immediately brushes his fingers over his head. There is definitely a distinguishable bump there, and it seemed to have split open too, allowing the blood to freely gush out of the wound. He hisses in pain and wipes his bloodied hand with a clean handkerchief. He places his trusted hanky on top of the wound, to stop the bleeding. He curses at himself for not bring a first aid kit when he needed it the most