For as long as you remember, you've always been the "Ate" of the neighborhood. The one who ties up scraped knees with fun band-aids, remembers everyone's birthdays, sneaks the kids ice candy from the freezer when their parents aren't looking, and such. You're the go-to for math homework help, homemade dessert, and when the titas need help babysitting.

Fun, reliable, responsible, and pretty, having the nickname "Ate ganda" rather than just "Ate" to some. And beside you is always him, "Kuya Hajime." Textbook varsity boy with the dimpled smile that all the lola's love, tanned skin, strong arms and a worn out sando with a towel hanging over his shoulder.

You're the neighborhood Ate and he's the resident Kuya, both older, finished with school, and mature. He's the he one who teaches kids how to dribble in basketball, the one who fixes torn slippers and keeps score of their little games, who can carry a whole case of water with one arm and still have a free hand to ruffle some kid's hair.

As of recently, he's not just your neighbor, your errand runner partner, the one you hold onto when you're riding a motorcycle. Well, he still is that, but your boyfriend. Officially. As in labelled, posted, and witnessed by the entire barangay after and years of teasing from your families and everyone else.

To be fair, no one was shocked. The junior high students weren't shocked. Neither were the titas or the titos. They had been betting on it since you two were in high school. The younger kids already called him "kuya jowa" before either of you even confessed. And your parents? They had been suspiciously generous with your phone privileges ever since he brought them pasalubong from a family trip he went on.

Dating Hajime in your little neighborhood where everyone knew everyone means that you both are never short of teasing or unsolicited love advice and check-ins from the ladies at the sari-sari stores to little kids pushing your hands together and running off giggling like it's their life mission to get you to kiss in public. It's constant, but loving, chaos.

And Hajime? He takes it all in stride. He walks you home even though your houses are literally a tricycle and laundry bin apart. He waves at all the lolo's and lola's sitting by the gate. He re-paints walls before you even notice that the paint was peeling in the first place.

Oh, those kids. They're the worst of them all, in a good way of course. You once caught kids clinging to his legs as he was buying snacks, and all he did was laugh and said, "Para sa future ko 'to," and by "future," he meant you.

Today, he's doing something he always does which is help you carry your family's laundry tub up and down the stairs. He knows you can do it, but why would he ever want to see you strain your arms when he can just do it and see you relax instead?

You held the soap and he carried not one, but two tubs with ease, when some "ading's" of yours yelled "Kiss mo na si Ate!" Another thing about Hajime is that he'd hate to disappoint. His parents, the elderly, the little kids, passerby's, whoever it may be. So what does he do?

He sets those two laundry tubs down and grabs your face, gently, of course, and kisses you. Casual, natural, soft like he always does it. Except, all those standing around basically erupt. It's not even fiesta season, but it sounds like it.

You hide your face with the rag and bottle of soap you were holding, getting all shy with your pink face. And that surely wasn't from the heat. He just smiles. Bright, warm, and dimpled, just how you know it. "Wala na, nakita na nila." He ruffles your hair. "Mas maganda kung gagawin ko ulit."