This Crazy Rich Boy

Miguel gazes at her for a long time, saying nothing. Quietly, he leaves.

Claire doesn't even notice him; she's so deep into her crying she was no longer aware of the world around her. She just lets go. She remembers how Gabriel saved him from Jake Magno, and she cries. She remembers the crazy pool party, how they talked in that sun-kissed room in his mansion in the countryside, and she cries. She has known Gabriel for only about a couple of weeks, but she already feels as if she has known him all his life. And the mere possibility of Gabriel being suddenly taken away from her—the smallest possibility—and Claire feels like her world is caving in.

She doesn't realize she must have been crying for hours when a hand appears before her, bearing the gift of a Starbucks beverage. She looks up, and for a moment, in her blurry vision, she thinks it's Gabriel, but it's not—it's Miguel, whose resemblance to his brother may be too uncanny for comfort. Blink fast enough and you might mistake Miguel for his brother.

"Drink this," Miguel says. "I know I can't stop you if you want to bawl your eyes out, but at least don't kill yourself."

She mutters "Thank you" as she accepts the coffee. She sips it; the caffeine throbs in her head. Only then she realizes she must be famished.

Miguel sits down beside her. "How is it?"

"How do you mean?"

"Has the doctor returned yet?"

She shakes her head softly. "I've seen nothing."

"You know what," he suddenly says. "Instead of crying here and being totally helpless, how about we do something crazy?"

Her brow creases.

"Let's say 'fuck it' and slip into that room. I'll let you hold Gabriel's hand as much as you want."

"Are you serious?" Claire's voice is hoarse, as though all the crying has scratched her throat dry. "What about his illness?"

"They've administered antibiotics on him, right? That should make him fine. And we'll be careful. For starters, wash your hands with alcohol."

"But I don't have—" she begins to say, but she stops as Miguel produces a small bottle of alcohol from his pocket. The man offers it to her with a smile. "You've thought this through, haven't you?"

"Anything just to stop you from crying your lungs out," he says, with a sheepish grin. "You're driving me crazy."

She smiles. She pours almost half the contents of the alcohol bottle on her hands, thinking about what the doctor said about infection and all that stuff. She hands the alcohol back to Miguel. "You, too."

"But I don't intend to hold Gabriel's hand. Why me, too?"

"Still. Better safe than sorry."

Reluctantly, Miguel takes the alcohol and does the same.

She stands up and peers into the small glass window. "Would those nurses let us in?"

Miguel stands beside her. "Let me take care of it." He opens the door; all the three nurses in the room gaze at him in shock.

"Sorry, mister, but visitors are not allowed in here," protests the most senior-looking nurse. Each of the three wears a face mask.

"I'm the patient's brother, Miguel Tan. I own half this hospital. We just need to speak to my brother for a minute."

The nurse glares at him for a moment. But when the name apparently sinks in, she backs down. "I will have to log this visit and tell the doctor about this," she says.

"Sure, no problem," Miguel says.

"He looks so fragile," Claire mutters, as she grasps Gabriel's hand.

The nurse glares at what she did, and furiously writes something on the chart.

"Can we give them a few minutes of privacy, please?" Miguel says.

"That's impossible!" the head nurse says.

"Just a few minutes, nurse, and I promise, I will give all three of you a hefty raise in your salaries."

The nurse stops on her tracks. They all exchange a look. This guy seems serious, they must think. They've taken note of his name, as it sounds familiar. And it's only a few minutes; surely, that would not kill the patient. And besides, the lady's eyes are now so swollen from all the crying that they feel sorry for her.

"Five minutes," the head nurse says, then she and her two companions leave.

Miguel looks at Claire and sighs. He quietly slips out the room.

Claire squeezes Gabriel's hand gently, trying to reach out to him. But Gabriel is deep in drug-induced sleep. His hand feels so dry. "I'm sorry, Gab," she mutters, as tears again stream down her face. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I had no idea. If only I…" She sobs even more.

Claire is usually a level-headed girl. She had never invested too much emotion on any man, until now. But even as she weeps in that room, it dawns on her how terrified she is of losing him. They haven't even fully started yet. All they had was the beginnings of what's supposedly an unforgettable story. But now this. Is this even real? Is he even on this bed right now? Isn't this just a nightmare, and any moment she would wake up from this?

"Gab, wake up, please. I know you can hear me." She sniffles through the tears. "I promise, I won't play coy, anymore. I'll give you everything your heart dėsɨrės. Because the truth is, all of those are my dėsɨrės, too. I was just trying to hold it up. So please, give me a chance. Give us a chance. Please wake up. I won't leave this place without you."

Miguel stands by the door, just outside the room, but he hears everything she has said. He sighs. Sadness wraps its wings around his heart. How he envies his brother so much. Why does he always end up as the audience to his brother's romantic story? Why couldn't he have his own? Ten years ago, he gave Michelle Alcantara up for Gabriel, because he had thought it was for the best. Who knew Michelle would become this evil conniving bitch? This time, it seems to be happening again. He really likes Claire, he's just trying to be all blasé about it. After all, who falls in love at first sight in this day and age? But it's true—he really fell in love at first sight with Claire. She really is that rare gem, that one-of-a-kind woman that a good man has the good fortune to encounter only once in his lifetime. And that rare gem loves no one else but his brother. Despite all his bravado, Miguel feels like crying, too.

Claire has soaked Gabriel's hand with her tears. This is enough, she commands herself, but even as she does so, she grips his hand even tighter. Gabriel stirs, as if he's starting to wake up. This sends a surge of excitement through Claire's entire being. Is he waking up? Is he finally well? Is the worst over?

Gabriel half-opens his eyes. He squints from the light.

"Gab? It's me. I'm right here," Claire mutters. "I'm just right here. Can you hear me?"

Gabriel almost opens his eyes, but it stays not fully open, not fully close. Slowly, his face relaxes again. He seems to have receded back to his sleep.

"What is this?" a voice suddenly booms right behind Claire.

It's the doctor, his face red with fury. "What are you trying to do?" He snaps at her. "Are you trying to kill the patient?"