By Chloe Cristobal
Graphics by Caitlin Beatrice Mutas and Kristel Floralde
Copyedited by Stacie Marie Catallo and Mekylla Marie Villapaña
The first time I took a good look at Purple, it didn’t even register that she was someone I knew. Riding the jeepney on the way home, I noticed that she had the same bag that my classmate had. Only then did it dawn on me who exactly she was. No words were exchanged, not even a simple glance. She left before I did, and for a while, that was all I knew of her as — my classmate who took the same route home.
We were in eighth grade at that time, and over the course of the school year, our interactions had doubled. She was always my groupmate in performance tasks, we acted alongside each other in our Araling Panlipunan class, we competed against each other in the Science quiz bee, and I even got to see her star as the lead actress in one of our films. Oh, and of course, how could I forget that moment in our biotechnology class?
The class was assigned to solve a mural of some kind involving problems about the subject. Oil pastels were scattered all over, painting the floor with different hues. She and I were kneeling directly in front of the whiteboard, quibbling over the correct answer. Once the heat was settled, we both stood up and saw the horror that marked our knees. Our P.E. pants had the colors of the oil pastels all over them! We stared at each other in shock for a while, left speechless because of the certainty of a nagging mom when we got home. But then I heard her giggle, and only then did I realize how freeing a person’s laughter can be.
My first impression of Blue was that she was unapproachable. She often had this look on her face that made you think she had a rain cloud following her around. I’ve grown fond of it, but back then, it just validated my thoughts about her. There was this moment in biotechnology class that I’m sure she already told you about. It was out of pure innocent friendship, but looking back, I can’t help but get flustered.
Purple and I were still classmates. Ninth grade was a year of stress-filled subjects and countless projects, but it was also a year full of realizations and acceptance. During PaSci’s junior year, the students were tasked to perform a festival dance with complete props and costumes. Whenever we practiced for this performance, the class was divided into two groups that took turns performing the dance. I was in one group, and she was in the other. Whenever I sat down and rested, my eyes would immediately get drawn to her. Only her. No matter how many times I tried watching the others, she’d pull me back in without breaking a single sweat, mesmerizing me effortlessly. I remember the way she elegantly held her skirt, twirling to the beat. I remember feeling my heart drop out of my chest, fighting to keep its beat alive. She was beautiful. It took a lot for me to accept that I liked her. I didn’t tell anyone, partly because I was scared and partly because I wanted to keep this feeling to myself.
Blue was the reason I came to accept my sexuality. I saw her dancing during an intermission for intramurals, and ever since then, I have had this crush on her. I came out to my best friend the next day, but I promised that it was only pure attraction. Having crushes on classmates was too messy… and besides, it wasn’t even me who she liked at that time.
Every little interaction of ours made the butterflies in my stomach go berserk. Every time she leaned her head against my shoulder, every time she chose to sit beside me, every time she looked at me for a little too long, every moment I cherished deeply. There was this one particular time when I was preparing props for our project. She was watching me cut the green fabric needed for the design, and I suddenly had the urge to wrap one of the pieces of cloth around her finger. She left to buy something, and by the time she came back, it was still there. She never took it off. I realized that maybe I wasn’t the only one who cherished these moments so much.
February 2, 2020. I still remember the exact date. We had our last practice at the CCP Complex. I didn’t know what I was doing at that time, I guess I just wanted her to know. I wanted to initiate something that showed how much I liked her without actually saying it. I was scared out of my wits, but I did it anyway. I intertwined my pinky with hers. It was to my surprise that she never let go, she only tightened her hold. After that practice, we rode the same jeepney on the way home. Yet again, no words were exchanged. But this time, I had an overwhelming urge to say something. The possibility of her liking me back grew only bigger and bigger in my mind as our flirting ensued, and a part of me started to believe I had a chance. I couldn’t take it anymore. I confessed through chat right after I got home. After I sent the message, I threw my phone across the room, dreading her response.
Blue’s message notification greeted me immediately by the time I got home. She said that she confessed because she had plans for moving schools for the tenth grade, so imagine her surprise when I told her I liked her back. The day after confessing was the day of our final performance. I remember going to school early because I was so excited to see her. Meanwhile, Blue couldn’t even look me in the eye. Although, in the end, it was she who held my hand. So who am I to complain?
The next few months were pure bliss. Brief touches, lingering stares, a lot of hugs, and affirmation. It may seem like nothing, but those moments provided euphoria at times when I least expected it. Every second we spent together made me feel stranded on cloud nine. But when the pandemic came, the relationship went a bit stale. We couldn’t see each other because of the restrictions, and we couldn’t call each other because neither of our families knew about us. Ultimately, I can say that the fault lies with me.
When we broke up, I drowned myself in work in order to block out what I felt. My life motto at that time was “Out of sight, out of mind.” I tried different hobbies, joined numerous contests, went to unfamiliar places—I did all of that to keep my mind off of her. At the end of the eleventh grade, the pandemic restrictions were lifted. A mini-recognition was held face-to-face to celebrate those with honors. I was scared to attend, not because of the fear of seeing my grades, but because of the fear of seeing her. There she was. My Purple. With colored hair, wearing an orange hoodie, and looking as good as ever.
With the kindest eyes and a bright smile, she congratulated me and invited me for a hug after the ceremony. I let myself get lost in her embrace. I can only hope that she felt my longing for her presence through that embrace.
By the time the twelfth grade rolled around, Blue was my classmate yet again. I think it’s pretty symbolic, now that I think about it. Class projects were the reason she and I got close in the first place, and there we were yet again, rebuilding our bond through our group tasks. I giggle every time I remember our vaguely flirty relationship during those days. We started talking again with the intention of reconciling our relationship. I was scared, and I could tell that she was, too. But eventually, we found our way back to each other again. In the end, it all worked out for us.
We made it work. Can you believe that? We’re in college now, and despite the busy schedules and little sleep, we still have the patience to stick with each other. The sacrifices we made for our relationship will always be worth it. To my Blue, with every single surrender we have made, I can proudly say that we’ll pull through every hurdle just fine.
If you ask me the secret to a long-lasting relationship, it would be the ability to hold each other’s hands even when butting heads. Because I know I could and would. There is no other person I’d rather spend the rest of my life with than my Purple.