Christian Vincent B.

Sabado Professor John Bengan

2019-60010 CL 111

The Artist and The Blind

Half way through the song, Tonyo closed his eyes and thought of Leon. His features were
obscure as Tonyo’s eyes were never keen to details, but, he was familiar enough of Leon’s
wholeness to be able to conjure him through memory. All these time, he was only watching him
from a far—on a safe distance— away from the eyes of the strangers whose lips speak ill of the
things they fail to understand.
In his reverie, everything died down—even the music. He could see nothing except the
image of Leon, the boy he long adored in a distance, now laying right beside him. He was so
close.
In this moment, Tonyo could almost hear his own heart pulsating in his ear and felt the
familiar warmth and tension enclosing his chest. Then, without hesitation, he imagined they
locked hands. Immediately, their fingers intertwined with one another. He thought of how it must
feel like to touch this boy—the warmth they share where their fingers and palms met, the tender
grip, and every muscle in their hands linked by a connection deeper than flesh. Tonyo smiled.
This intimate moment they shared sent currents of electricity throughout his body. He felt loved.
He felt alive.
But his reverie was interrupted by the sudden change of song in the playlist, from a ballad
to a rock music. The pictures in his mind then faded instantly like smoke, and everything was
back to how it was before. His eyes met the darkness of his room and he felt his bed become
bigger. He let out a chuckle and gripped his chest—feeling the warmth still circling his heart. He
blinked a couple times and saw faint images of his room as a streak of light filtered through his
curtain from their neighbour’s window, who he believe had just woken up.
Everything was back to how it was before. The books on the shelf were slanted and the
mess on his table were still there. There was no more magic. No more Leon beside him. He was
the only soul in the room; he was alone. He raised his hand and tried to see it through the dark.
He twisted it in front of him, as if to feel the void around it. There was nothing holding it now,
not even Leon. And suddenly, the pain of knowing that Leon, in reality, would never hold his
hand the way he imagined him to, crushed him. This made Tonyo hate the world. The world was
unfair and cruel. And he felt stupid enough to fall for Leon, the boy who would never look at
him and see him the way Tonyo does.