Love in Quarantine - InkSpot.Com

JOSE GERVIC LABE, JR.

Love in Quarantine

Love in Quarantine

It was a time of uncertainty and stillness. The year was 2019, and the world was navigating the ever-shifting landscape of the COVID-19 pandemic. Gill, like many others, found himself thrust into a new reality - a world of home confinement and unexpected free time. His company's doors were temporarily closed, his routine disrupted, and boredom seemed to loom large.

Seeking refuge in the digital realm, Gill's phone became his constant companion. Hours melted into each other as he scrolled through endless streams of content, a mix of laughter-inducing TikTok snippets and captivating YouTube documentaries. Then, one ordinary afternoon, something unexpected broke the monotony. An ad, different from the usual, blinked onto his screen - a vibrant invitation to a mobile app seemingly meant for individuals seeking connection beyond traditional boundaries. Curiosity sparked, Gill found himself clicking, downloading, and stepping into the unknown. And that's where the story truly begins.

April 13th dawned like any other Friday, except, for Gill, it held a spark of the extraordinary. He wasn't expecting the usual Friday the 13th fare of misfortune and mayhem. No, this Friday held the promise of something exhilarating, uplifting, and frankly, breathtaking. At least, that's how Gill felt when his dating app buzzed with a notification.

A tap brought up a profile. Name? A cryptic jumble of letters, symbols, and emojis. Picture? A blurry glimpse of something vaguely human. Intrigued but cautious, Gill sent a tap back. Moments later, a message: the standard "Hi" and "Hello," the opening lines in the dance of digital flirtation.

He responded, and the reply was an abbreviated "ASL?"—Age, Sex, Location. Gill bristled. "If you're interested, you could've checked my profile," he typed, a snarky retort betraying his curiosity. He was, after all, one of those social media exhibitionists who laid his life bare online, age, name, location, and all, despite every security warning to the contrary.

The stranger's response, in their regional dialect, was cool yet subtly barbed. "So strict," they wrote, the word carrying hints of offended pride. "I asked nicely," they added, "at least have the decency to acknowledge me or say no."

Gill felt a pang of guilt. He wasn't usually this rude. Taking a breath, he typed, "Sorry, that's just how I chat with strangers. You didn't even send your picture." A pause, then a cheeky addendum: "Please have the initiative."

The screen flickered with the familiar, tantalizing "... is typing..." A moment later, the words appeared: "I'll send one, but promise you won't laugh at me. I'm not exactly a catch."

Gill's fingers flew across the screen. "Don't worry," he wrote, "I'm not exactly GQ material myself.

A pixelated image flickered onto Gill's screen, pulling him from his thoughts. As it resolved, a stunning young man filled the frame, his physique hinted at beneath crisp clothing. But the message accompanying the picture threw Gill off course: "I'm sorry, I'm ugly. You might not like me after seeing that."

Despite the self-deprecating words, Gill found himself captivated by the stranger's features. "Who said you're ugly?" he shot back, surprised by his own boldness. "Man, you're hot!" he added, a laugh bubbling up inside him.

A burst of emojis appeared on the screen – laughter, disbelief, maybe even a hint of bashfulness. "I'm not kidding," Gill insisted. "It isn't you who's ugly, it's me." He tried to twist the conversation, deflecting attention away from the stranger's misplaced insecurity.

"No, you're not," came the reply, softer this time. "I like your looks." A jolt of electricity shot through Gill. "What's your name?" he asked, curiosity blooming alongside an unexpected flutter of attraction.

"Jacob," the message read. "Looks like we're close – you popped up in my 'nearby' corner." Gill scrolled back, eyes drawn to the picture once more. He saved it, the image warming his phone's memory.

"Nice to meet you, Jacob," he responded, injecting a playful jab at the app's matchmaking skills. "As you might see and read, my name is Gill."

The next message made his chest tighten. "Can we meet?" it asked. Gill's fingers fluttered over the keypad, typos blossoming from his excitement. "Wherr? When? Bow?" the nonsensical reply read, before he corrected it: "Where? Now?"

"Yes," came the tantalizing reply. "Right now, at your place." A thrill pulsed through Gill, momentarily blurring his reasoning. Then, with a jolt, he realized his screen already displayed a simple "sure," an unconscious surrender to the invitation.

The whirlwind of events left Gill dizzy. He couldn't recall how Jacob's invitation went from a casual online chat to an impending visit to his apartment. Now, anxieties swarmed his mind. What if Jacob was a thief, a walking virus, or worse, HIV-positive? The thought of a thief seemed unlikely given Jacob's polished appearance, but Gill knew he was taking a chance. Despite the worries, the excitement of finally meeting Jacob after weeks of anticipation had fueled his preparations.

The initial awkwardness melted away as soon as introductions were exchanged. Conversation flowed effortlessly as they delved into each other's lives. Jacob, a supervisor at a popular pizza joint, chuckled about his dough-slinging days. Gill, newly minted accounting staff at a prestigious motorcycle dealership, shared his dreams of revving up his career. Their exchange was a comfortable dance of discovery, each step leading them deeper into uncharted territory.

Yet, amidst the easy banter, moments of unsettling silence would creep in, leaving Gill adrift in his own room. Jacob's gaze, lingering a beat too long, or a subtle lean that pushed the boundaries of personal space, sent ripples of confusion through Gill. He found himself both intrigued and inexplicably wary.

The air crackled with unspoken emotions, shattered by a sudden, brutal boom on the front door. It reverberated through the room, a tangible blow that sent goosebumps erupting on Gill's skin. His eyes darted to Jacob, a flicker of panic betraying his steely facade. "Hush," he hissed, hot breath tickling Jacob's ear, "Someone's at the door. Could be the landlord." With a jolt, Gill rose to his feet, the urgency palpable in his frantic strides. He reached his room's door, flung it open, and vanished into the shadows, leaving a trail of nervous energy in his wake.

Stuck on the bed’s edge, Jacob strained to be silent. His gaze darted from the half-open door, ajar since Gill’s hurried exit, to the white ceiling painted with faint imperfections. A lone incandescent bulb cast a wan glow, barely reaching the corners. The room wasn’t spacious, but it sufficed for two or three occupants with a sliver of space for their belongings. A bed piled with worn cushions rested beneath a barred window adorned with a dusty royal blue curtain. A bedside table held an open book, its pages frozen mid-sentence catching the dim light. A rotating fan hummed, its breeze stirring the stale air. Despite its bareness, the room held a curious orderliness, hinting at an unseen fastidiousness in Gill’s nature.

The room, meticulously orchestrated for their encounter, lost its focus as the door swung open. Gill, his gaze softening from its keen inspection, stepped in, a smile playing on his lips. "Water woes," he sighed, tossing a paper to Jacob. "Landlord's vanished into thin air." Jacob, a flicker of concern in his eyes, asked, "Who was it?" "Just a Metro Water fella," Gill replied, his voice laced with amusement. "So, back to unraveling the mysteries of each other?" he asked, his red lips quirking in a playful challenge. Jacob felt a blush bloom on his cheeks. "Getting there, I think," he stammered. "And, speaking of mysteries," he added, reaching for a small tote bag left forgotten in the corner, "I have something for you." Gill, who'd already spied the bag, his heart skipping a beat, watched with anticipation.

The anticipation was thick in the air as Gill rushed towards Jacob, eyes glued to the mysterious bag he clutched. "What's in there?" he blurted, barely able to contain his excitement.

Jacob, still holding the bag close, grinned mischievously. With a flourish, he pulled out a bottle of liquor. "Surprise!" he exclaimed, his voice bubbling with glee.
The smile on Gill's face faltered, replaced by a flicker of surprise. He had forgotten to warn Jacob - no alcohol is allowed in their apartment, let alone visitors. "Uh, about that..." he began, a hint of dismay creeping into his voice. "We probably shouldn't be doing this here. Maybe we could meet somewhere else, yeah?"

Concern etched itself onto Jacob's face. "What if the landlord sees me? This could land you in trouble."
Gill squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Relax, we'll be quiet. Besides," he added, a touch of longing in his eyes, "I just couldn't wait to see you. The thought of breaking the rules didn't even cross my mind."

Jacob softened, a hesitant smile returning to his lips. "Alright," he sighed. "But are you sure?"

"Definitely," Gill replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "And hey," he added, a playful glint in his eyes, "I didn't come empty-handed either. Junk food galore!"

The air crackled with unspoken affection as they exchanged glances, the awkwardness of the situation momentarily forgotten. In that cramped apartment, surrounded by forbidden substances and unspoken rules, their forbidden meeting tasted all the sweeter.

1534 words

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