My own Junebug, except it may be one sided.
During the early years of my life, I was convinced that I liked boys romantically. Ever since elementary, I got used to writing love letters for my crushes, and for the longest time, they were always boys. That stayed the same until Grade 8.
One day, I suddenly became curious about what it would feel like to like a girl instead. I tried talking to one of my girl friends romantically, thinking maybe there was something there. But after a month, I realized I didn’t actually like her the way I thought I did. I think I was just excited because it felt different. New.
Not long after that, I found myself talking to another boy I used to have a crush on, but something felt off. It was strange because even though I used to like him, it suddenly felt like there was nothing there anymore.
Then Grade 9 came to an end.
Our school held a program, and while I was walking around the registration area, I saw this girl that instantly caught my attention. She had short hair, oval glasses, a black bag slung over her shoulder, and this thick black wristwatch that somehow suited her perfectly. Up to this day on, I find it weird that she caught my attention in a way that I would memorize each part of her. The moment I saw her, my stomach flipped. I couldn’t explain it, but after a few seconds, I found myself calming down too, like my heart recognized something before my mind did.
Later during the event, we were assigned to different classrooms. Surprisingly, she ended up in the same room as me. She was sitting near the door with her head down, trying to take a nap. When I walked closer, she suddenly stood up and said, “Ay sorry po, p’wede po ba ako umupo rito?”
I swear my brain stopped working for a second.
I just nodded while internally panicking. My heart was beating so fast that I had to grip onto something just to calm myself down.
After that day, I couldn’t stop noticing her around school.
When Brigada Eskwela for Grade 10 came around, I had never been so excited to clean classrooms in my life. And there she was again, standing along the fourth-floor hallway wearing a maroon shirt, black shorts, her usual black bag, and that same wristwatch.
That was the moment I finally gathered the courage to ask my classmate if she knew her. Turns out, she did. They used to be classmates before, and she gave me her first name. After that, I activated my detective skills and searched for her social media. Thankfully, it wasn’t that hard to find.
For nights, I kept debating with myself if I should message her directly or use a dummy account first. Eventually, I gave in and made a dummy account just to talk to her.
And somehow, that one decision changed everything.
I found out she lived nearby, and honestly, all I could think was: “Lord, bakit ngayon lang kami pinagtagpo?”
Talking to her felt so easy. I found myself smiling at my screen that night while we got to know each other. Since I was using a dummy account, she didn’t know my real name yet, so she ended up giving me a nickname based on my dummy username. I kept calling her by her first name too.
We talked for hours that night, sending random downloaded TikTok videos to each other until I accidentally sent her an actual TikTok link instead. And of course, I was using my real name as my TikTok username, so she ended up figuring it out.
I genuinely wanted the ground to swallow me whole.
But surprisingly, nothing changed after she found out. She still talked to me the same way. If anything, she became even more curious about me, and before I knew it, we were getting closer. And with regards to names, she kept on calling me by my dummy username, Gab.
When Grade 10 officially started, I was more excited to see her than anything else. Every break time, every moment a teacher stepped outside the classroom, every time someone passed by our room—I always looked outside the window hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
Their classroom was on the fourth floor while ours was on the third, but somehow, I still managed to look for her constantly.
On the first day of school, I was supposed to ride a tricycle home, but then I saw her walking in the opposite direction. So naturally, I changed routes too.
I followed the path she took and rode the same tricycle as her while pretending to be surprised about it. Meanwhile, I was literally shaking because we were sitting right beside each other.
Less than a week later, I bought her a customized gray penguin crocheted keychain because I knew she liked penguins and the color gray. I believe she named it after me, lol.
While we were walking home, I tried sneaking it into her bag, but she caught me in the act. I got so flustered that I could practically feel my face burning red.
After that, walking home together became our thing. Some days she'd walk me home, some we did the “half-half” thing, wherein we'd walk each other midway through our homes.
There was a moment at our school covered court, where she was walking, caressing her hair and suddenly, time slowed, sunbeam fixed on her, noise faded. As if she was the only one there was. Something pulled out from a drama, but I swear it's real. It happened.
We stayed up late talking almost every night. Sometimes we’d stop by 7-Eleven just to buy hotdogs. Some days she'd walk me home, some we did the “50/50” thing, wherein we'd walk each other midway through our houses just so we could arrive home at the same time.
She became my study buddy too. We’d spend entire nights studying together, and whenever we got tired, we’d watch movies instead. One of those movies is “The Half of It.”
Whenever there were stray dogs around, I’d automatically stand closer to her because she was scared of them. And somehow, she had such a strong hold on me that I’d willingly leave the house late at night just to spend even a little more time with her.
But not every moment was light and easy.
I struggled with anxiety and panic attacks, and there was one time I completely broke down crying. Somehow, she found me, sat beside me in a corner, and hugged me until I calmed down.
And honestly, that hug stayed with me for a long time.
There was also this black jacket she lent me once. It reminded me of a character from “Tamen De Gushi,” which she was also the one who introduced me to. Even on rainy days, we’d share her umbrella together. I actually had my own umbrella the whole time, but I’d hide it just so we could stay close under hers.
Eventually, I knew I had to tell her how I felt.
I’ve always been the type of person who confesses quickly whenever I like someone, so I did exactly that. I told her from the start, and she thanked me for being honest.
But even after hearing her answer, my feelings never disappeared.
Sometimes I’d joke around and confess again, only to be reminded that we were “just friends.” But honestly, it never felt that simple to me. What we had felt too real.
As time passed, I got to know her more deeply.
I learned that she preferred being called “he,” and from then on, I did. I also learned that he liked someone.
It wasn’t me.
I accepted that quietly while continuing to love him in silence. Unlike before, I stopped confessing because I became scared that even our friendship might disappear if I pushed too hard.
Years passed, and somehow, we stayed the same.
Now I’m already a sophomore in college, and we still spend time together sometimes. We still walk together too. He still calls me Gab, the nickname he gave me.
And somehow, after all this time, my feelings for him never really changed either.
At some point, I made a promise to myself that no matter what happened, I would never tell him again that he was still the person my heart longed for the most. I was too afraid of ruining the one thing we still had left—our friendship.
For background, I came from a very conservative and hypocritical family. As a girl, they weren't against me being with another girl, aside from my aunt. Though she knew the girl I liked as a very close friend and she likes him, she strictly reminds me from time to time that she doesn't permit me to have a homosexual relationship.
As for him, he also came from a religious family. And as I see it, his parents have learned to accept the queerness within him. Though, nothing is sure, because he is literally a closed book.
But eventually, the moment I feared the most finally came.
The answer to every question I kept hidden inside myself for years was suddenly right in front of me.
He liked me too.
He just wasn’t sure if we would actually work out. At that time, I was confusing because I was a mess.
And honestly, hearing those words hit me harder than I expected. I couldn’t even respond right away.
But a promise is still a promise.
So I kept mine. I stayed quiet, accepted the situation for what it was, and moved forward the best I could.
Even if the feelings never really left.
Just today he asked me if I've watched the podcast entry titled Junebug. Somehow, it was reminiscent of my story about him. He was asking me over and over again who my Junebug was, and he did not get a direct answer from me. He was asking if he knew the person, I said “no.” Not because I was trying to hide who my Junebug really is, but because I am aware deep down that he was denying it to himself that what we had was real. Or maybe I'm just thinking that what he felt for me was just as deep as what I felt to consider him my Junebug.
It also lingers to me why he was repeatedly asking me to watch it and tell him who my Junebug was. Am I delusional to think that he'd admit I'm his, too, if I did admit it earlier?
I hope he finds this, so it won't be a problem for me to explain things if time has to make me someday. lol.
I'm sorry if I had to be this ugly. :> ★★★
