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It is only three o'clock in the morning, but Keng is already awake. His body is used to it even without an alarm to wake him up. Truth be told, he does not own a fancy cellphone for that anyway. What he has is an old digital watch that his father gifted him before he passed away.
He got up from his thin sleeping mat. Every movement is careful so as not to wake his foster father, Mang Noli, who is sleeping on the other side of their tiny room. Their walls are made of patchwork of plywood and corrugated iron sheets. When it rains, it is noisy. When the weather is hot, it feels like an oven.
Keng washed his face with cold water from a bucket. Then, he puts on a faded but clean shirt and trousers with a slight tear in the pocket. Before heading out, he checked the remaining coins on top of the table. Three pesos. Not enough to buy even a piece of bread.
"I need to work twice as hard today," he whispered to himself.
He walked toward the wholesale vegetable market in Divisoria, where he carries boxes and sacks as a porter. For every sack, he earns 10 pesos. If he moves fast, he might be able to buy a decent breakfast by eight o'clock.
On the other side of the city, in a subdivision with paved roads and security guards at the gate, Namping woke up to the sound of soft music from his smart speaker. It is six in the morning. The room is already bright, thanks to the large windows of his bedroom.
He goes downstairs, still in his pajamas. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and garlic fried rice immediately fill the air. Sitting at the long dining table is his mother, reading on her iPad, while his father is already on the phone talking about business.
"Good morning, Ping," his mother greets without looking up. "Eat up. Yaya Susan packed a lunch for you for school, too. Don't forget your allowance on top of the counter."
Namping looks at the money. Two thousand pesos. That is just for one day. He knows that is a lot of money to other people, but in their circles, it is completely normal. It is pocket money for expensive coffee across the university, books, and gas for his car.
But as he stares at the cash, a certain heaviness settles in his chest. He is not stupid. He knows he is lucky. And above all, he knows someone who has to work for weeks just to earn the amount he is holding right now.
The two meet at the university library. Namping is a Business Management student. Keng, on the other hand, is a working student under a scholarship program taking up Engineering. Keng works under the school's maintenance and auxiliary services whenever he does not have classes to earn extra money for expenses.
"Keng," Namping calls out when he sees the guy arranging chairs at the far end of the library.
Keng turns around. He is sweaty and clearly exhausted, but he still smiles when he sees Namping. "Oh, Namping. Why are you here? Don't you have a class?"
"It's my break. I was looking for you," Namping says, placing a paper bag on the table. "I brought a sandwich. It's an extra from home."
Keng looks at the paper bag. He knows it is not just an "extra." It is expensive bread with a rich filling. He can feel the hunger in his stomach. His breakfast earlier was only a glass of water and a single piece of biscuit. Yet, something inside him hesitates.
"Thanks, Ping. But I'm still full," Keng lies.
Namping sets the bag down and sits on the chair across from Keng. He looks him straight in the eye. There is no judgment, only pure worry. "Keng, I know you. I know you haven't eaten since last night. Don't let your pride get in the way with me."
Keng lets out a deep sigh. He sits down beside Namping, takes the sandwich, and takes a bite. It is delicious. Incredibly delicious. But as he chews, he cannot help but think about the price of a single meal like this. It is probably worth three kilos of rice.
"Thank you," Keng says softly.
"How are your studies? And your work?" Namping asks, watching him eat.
"It's alright. The Hydraulics exam was hard, but I passed. The night shift at the construction site is just a bit tiring. Fare went up again, so I just walk home to save money," Keng answered seriously.
Namping falls silent. He wants to say, 'Don't walk anymore, I'll drive you home,' or 'I'll pay for your fare.' But he knows it will hurt Keng. Keng has a lot of self-respect. He does not ask for charity. And Namping does not want Keng to feel like he is being pitied.
"I wish I could just give you some of my allowance," Namping whispers, barely audible.
Keng gives a bitter smile. He puts down the half-eaten sandwich. "Ping, our worlds are different. The money you hold was worked hard for by your parents. The money I need has to come from my own sweat. It's not that I don't want help, but I can't depend on others forever."
"I know," Namping replies. "And that's what I admire about you. But sometimes, I wonder... do you find it hard when you're with me? Because I don't have anything to worry about except my grades. But you, you're carrying your life and your family's future."
Keng looks at Namping. His own hands are dirty compared to the smooth, clean hands of Namping. His shoes have holes in the soles. Namping’s are pristine white and brand new.
"I don't find it hard when I'm with you, Ping," Keng says, his voice serious. "You're actually my comfort at the end of the day. It's just that..."
"Just what?"
"Just that, I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"That a day might come when you get tired of me. Because I have nothing to give you except my time, which is barely even enough," Keng admits.
Namping looked away. He feels the weight of Keng's words. They are not kids who can just live off of words of comfort and "I love you." They are both wide awake to reality. Love in the real world comes with bills, stomachs that need to be fed, and dreams that need funding.
A few months pass. Keng becomes even busier. Aside from his studies and working as a porter, he also takes a job as a call center agent at night. He is down to barely three hours of sleep a day. He is losing weight, dark circles form under his eyes, and he is always exhausted.
One night, they meet at a small park near the university. It is almost ten in the evening. Keng is just coming out of his last class and is on his way to his job.
They sat on a concrete bench under the dim light of a streetlamp.
"Keng, this isn't good anymore," Namping starts. He holds Keng's hand. It is cold and rough. "You look like you're getting sick. Why don't you drop one of your jobs?"
"I can't, Ping," Keng answers, his voice thick with exhaustion. "The rent for our place went up. We can barely afford even a kilo of rice right now. If I don't push myself, we'll get evicted and we won't have anything to eat."
"I have money, Keng. Borrow from me first. Just pay me back when you graduate," Namping pleads. Tears are already welling up in his eyes. It hurts him deeply to see the person he loves slowly burning out.
Keng shakes his head. He faced Namping. His chest feels incredibly heavy.
"Ping, listen to me," Keng says softly. "I love you. You know that. And I know you love me too. But look around us. Everything is so expensive now. Food, fare, electricity. Everything is costing more."
Namping goes quiet, waiting for what Keng will say next.
"If we keep this going right now... if we force us to be together despite my situation, we're just going to starve together. Or maybe just me, and I don't want you dragged into this," Keng continues. "My love isn't enough to sustain you. My salary right now isn't even enough for me and my dad. What's the use of what I feel if I can't offer any certainty for the future?"
"Are you pushing me away because of that?" Namping asks, a tear finally rolling down his cheek. "Just because you're poor and I'm rich? Is it really that easy for you?"
"This isn't easy, Ping!" Keng's voice rises slightly, but he quickly softens, placing his hands on Namping’s shoulders to apologize. "I just don't... I just don't want to see you smiling at me while deep down, you're suffering because I can't take you out to a nice restaurant, or buy you a gift on your birthday. I don't want to see you miserable with me in poverty."
"I am not miserable with you!" Namping insists. "It's my choice who I love, Keng."
"But it's also my choice to protect you, even from myself," Keng answers. "Let's save this for later, Ping. When I finally have something certain in this uncertainty. When I have something to be proud of. For now, let's let each other go. Let's study. Let's work hard. And if we're really meant to be... I hope when that day comes, the world won't be this cruel to us anymore."
Namping can do nothing but cry. Not because he is angry with Keng, but because he knows the man is right. Love is not like the movies where everything is solved with a single hug. In real life, when the pockets are empty, the heart is often the first sacrifice.
They part ways that night with heavy hearts but with an understanding. No bitterness. Just the harsh reality.
Three years passed.
Time moved both fast and slow for Keng. Fast because he never stops working and studying. Slow because he thinks of Namping every single night. But he turns that pain into motivation. Whenever he feels like giving up, he remembers Namping's face under that streetlamp and his resolve returns.
Keng graduated with a degree in Engineering as Magna Cum Laude. Because of his excellent record, a major construction firm hires him immediately. His "luck" did not stop there. because he is hardworking and sharp, he is quickly promoted from a junior engineer to a project manager.
He also started taking on his own clients. He built a small construction and design firm with a few of his former classmates. Slowly, their lives changed. He and his foster father move into a proper and decent apartment. They no longer have to worry about what they will eat tomorrow. The refrigerator is full, and he has enough savings in the bank.
His shoes no longer have holes. His shirts are no longer faded. He can buy things without checking the remaining coins in his pocket first. But despite all this success, one thing is still missing.
One afternoon, while Keng is inspecting a newly constructed commercial building in Makati, he catched sight of a familiar figure walking into the adjacent coffee shop.
It's Namping.
His face is more mature, looking more professional in his corporate attire. But his eyes are exactly the same—gentle and carrying that distinct brightness.
Keng stopped. Nervousness washed over him, a feeling he has not felt in a long time, even when facing big corporate clients. He adjusted his polo shirt, took off his safety helmet, and walks toward the coffee shop.
He steps inside, hearing the chime of the bell above the door. He immediately looked for Namping. He is sitting at the far end, reading some documents on his laptop.
Keng approaches and stood in front of the table.
"Mind if I sit?" Keng asks in a calm voice.
Namping looked up. He freezes for a second, seemingly unable to believe his eyes. His eyes widen, and a familiar smile slowly breaks across his face.
"Keng?" Namping whispers. He quickly closes his laptop. "Keng! It's really you!"
Keng sat on the vacant chair. "Yeah, it's me. How have you been, Ping?"
"Good... I've been good," Namping answered, clearly thrilled and a bit shaken. He looked at Keng up and down. "You've changed so much. You look like... a boss."
Keng laughs softly. "Not really. Just working hard. You? I heard you're running some branches of your family's business now?"
"Yeah, I'm helping out," Namping said. "But wait, I also heard you're a well-known engineer now? I see your company's name on a couple of projects."
"Just getting lucky," Keng answers simply, but there is pride in his voice. Not arrogant pride, but the pride of someone who knows exactly how deep the hole was that he had to climb out of to get to where he is today.
They fell silent for a moment. Both have so much to say, but they are still testing the waters. Their last conversation was full of tears and hardship. Now, the situation is entirely different.
"Keng," Namping starts, his tone turning more serious. "The things you told me before... at the park..."
"I remember all of it, Ping," Keng cuts in. He looks Namping straight in the eye. "I told you, let's save this for later when I have something certain in the uncertainty. I told you that loving someone was too expensive back then and I couldn't afford it."
Keng reaches out for Namping’s hand on top of the table. This time, his hand is not cold. It is no longer rough from carrying heavy sacks. It is warm and holds a sense of certainty.
"Now, Ping... I can," Keng continues. "I can buy the rice, the sardines, and whatever you want without us going hungry. I have a good salary now, and above all, I am still completely faithful to you."
Tears blur Namping’s eyes, but this time, it is not from pain, but from overwhelming joy. "I waited a long time, Keng. I knew this day would come."
"Thank you for waiting," Keng says, squeezing his hand. "Now, I don't have to be scared of seeing you suffer in poverty with me. Now, you can smile with me without worrying about tomorrow."
Namping smiles, the most beautiful smile Keng has not seen in years. "Coffee first? My treat this time."
"No way," Keng laughed softly. "It's on me. I told you, I can afford it now."
Inside the quiet coffee shop, in the middle of the busy city, two people from completely different backgrounds hold hands, brought together by the same heartbeat. The time for enduring and hesitating is finally over. At last, the love that used to feel heavy and too expensive is light and free for the both of them.
Lahat ay politikal, pati ang pagmamahal.
Lalo ang pagmamahal.
(Everything is political, even love.
Especially love.)