Author POV
Location: Manila Airport – 1:30 AM
The terminal lights buzzed faintly overhead, painting a soft glow across the near-empty airport. Most passengers were curled into awkward sleeping positions. But two people sat wide awake near gate 7—looking like a couple from a movie poster but acting like a comedy duo from a drama gone wrong.
The flight to Negros Occidental was scheduled for 3:00 AM—a decision made by their agency to avoid fan attention and daytime chaos.
The crew would arrive separately.
The shoot wouldn't begin until late evening, giving them just enough time to rest and prepare.
Rabin:
"Why again shooting at a beach? There's literally land everywhere. Can't we film somewhere nearby? Like a parking lot?"
Y/N (without looking up):
"Because the Philippines has over 7,000 islands, woodenhead."
He blinked. Offended.
Not by the schedule.
But by the insult.
Rabin:
"You've been calling me that a lot lately."
Y/N:
"Then stop acting like a block of mahogany."
Rabin:
"Mahogany is luxury, babe."
Y/N:
"Exactly. Expensive but still wooden."
He grinned. Leaned closer on the metal bench.
Rabin (softly):
"Still yours, though."
She didn't answer.
Didn't even blink.
But her ears flushed the slightest shade of red.
He noticed.
And leaned back—smug and satisfied.
The van pulled up to the private resort facing the sea, waves crashing gently in the distance like a lullaby with secrets. The early sun was just starting to bleed orange through the clouds, casting golden reflections on the water.
Rabin stepped out first, stretching like he owned the beach, then turned to help Y/N, who looked like she hadn't slept in years (or at least since last night's airport sarcasm marathon).
Inside the minimalist but elegant lobby, the air was cool, and the scent of lemongrass lingered.
The receptionist greeted them warmly with a practiced smile.
Receptionist:
"Welcome to Manami Resort. The agency has reserved a private ocean-view suite. Here are your keys."
She slid two keycards across the counter.
She looked at Rabin.
He raised an eyebrow in mock surprise, pretending like he hadn't been hoping for just one.
Y/N (under her breath):
"Thank God."
Rabin (grinning):
"You sound disappointed, babe. Were you hoping for one room to recreate last week's couch incident?"
Y/N (grabbing her key, expression flat):
"I was hoping you'd forget about last week's couch incident."
Rabin (already following her):
"I'd forget everything else. But not you ..That memory's archived."
Later – Hallway of the Suite
Y/N paused in front of her door.
The hallway was quiet, except for the gentle hum of the sea breeze outside.
Rabin leaned against the wall beside her.
Rabin:
"So… next-door neighbors again?"
Y/N (unamused):
"Don't you dare try sneaking in through the balcony."
Rabin (offended):
"What do you think I am? A desperate Romeo with abs?"
Y/N (unlocking her door):
"Exactly."
Rabin (smirking):
"Then lock your balcony. I'm flexible."
She slammed her door shut before her brain could combust.
Lunchtime
The knock was soft but steady.
Knock knock.
After a few seconds, the door creaked open — revealing Rabin, still half-asleep, hair tousled in every possible direction, shirt slightly off his shoulder, and one eye barely open.
He didn't say anything.
Just stepped back silently and let the door stay wide open — a silent "come in."
Y/N entered with a paper bag and a tired expression.
She placed a warm lunch box on the side table by the window, careful not to wake the ocean-scented calmness of the room.
Y/N (quietly):
"Have your lunch."
Rabin (yawning, voice raspy):
"You?"
Y/N (avoiding his gaze):
"I already ate with the crew. They arrived earlier. I… let you sleep. Didn't wake you up."
He blinked slowly.
Something about her voice made him more awake than he wanted to be. It wasn't cold… but it wasn't warm either.
She turned to leave.
Rabin:
"Stay… for a while. I don't want to eat alone."
Rabin sat on the edge of his bed, unboxing the lunch she brought—still a bit groggy, but watching her every few seconds like she might disappear.
She didn't argue.
Didn't acknowledge how soft his voice had gotten.
She just stayed.
Y/N had sat down on the couch, not saying much. Her iPad was glowing softly on her lap, her thumb scrolling through the updated schedule.
Y/N (scrolling):
"Oh—they added an event tomorrow night."
Rabin (mildly interested):
"What event?"
Y/N:
*"Your perfume launch. The Bin Perfume one."
She glanced up briefly.
"They'll be doing the launch here. Since the shoot's already in a scenic spot—free marketing."
Rabin (with a nod):
"Ahh, that one. So what should I sing on stage tomorrow?"
Y/N (still scrolling):
"How about 'Miss Miss'? You looked good with Ashtine during that promo shoot. The fans love you two. The way you looked at her… that eye contact was… charming."
She didn't say it harshly.
But she didn't say it softly either.
Just neutral. Professional. Coldly fine.
Rabin froze slightly, his spoon midair.
He raised an eyebrow.
Rabin:
"Ashtine? That's what you saw?"
Y/N:
"Well, the fans even root for you two—Ashbin or whatever they call it now."
She didn't look up, but she felt it—his stare.
Like it burned a hole through the back of her iPad.
Rabin (low, sharp):
"Do you root for Ashbin too?"
She finally glanced up.
Y/N (dry):
"What I root for doesn't matter. I'm just your assistant."
Rabin (leaning forward):
"It does matter. More than the fans. More than that staged chemistry. I didn't even write that eye contact—I just looked at her how they told me to."
Y/N:
"You're an actor. That's your job."
Rabin (quietly, but firm):
"And I'm not acting right now. Especially not when I'm looking at you."
A heavy pause filled the room.
He placed the spoon down, slowly.
Stood up, walked toward her, each step deliberate.
Rabin (softer):
"You still think the way I looked at her… was special?"
Y/N:
"It's what everyone saw."
Rabin:
"Then maybe I should look at you like that… just so everyone knows who I really see."
Y/N didn't lift her eyes from the iPad, but she knew he was walking toward her.
Every footstep… every slow inhale… she felt it more than she saw it.
Y/N (neutral tone):
"Tibok and Miss Miss… is that alright for the setlist?"
Rabin (quietly nodding):
"Yeah…"
Y/N:
"Okay. I'll update the team."
But just as she tapped the screen, he asked—
Rabin:
"Why do you ignore my eyes when you talk to me?"
She finally looked up.
And he was close.
Too close.
That kind of close where you can hear their breathing before you even register their face.
Her lips parted slightly, words trapped somewhere between confusion and control.
Y/N:
"What now?"
Rabin (softly, almost playfully):
"Give me a kiss before I leave… so that I can only look at you."
Y/N (standing up fast, avoiding eye contact):
"I'm going, Rabin."
She stepped toward the door—but he caught her wrist again.
This time, he didn't pull her harshly.
He just held it.
Gently.
Like letting go meant losing her again.
Then he wrapped his arms around her from behind—a quiet, aching back hug that said more than any sentence he could ever craft.
His voice ghosted against her ear.
Rabin (low and steady):
"You're the 'miss' I'm always missing though."
Y/N's eyes stayed forward. Her breath caught—but she didn't move.
She didn't say anything.
She just opened the door…
And walked out.
Without turning back.
Y/N's POV
Location: Late evening set ,Beach
The sun had already dipped low, bleeding soft orange across the waves.
The wind was loud. The kind that whistles in your ear and tosses your hair like it wants to tangle with your thoughts.
Everyone on set was prepping.
Ashtine was laughing with the stylist, hair flying in the wind but still camera-perfect.
She looked comfortable around Rabin.
Friends.
They're friends.
Little did I know.
I was standing behind the lighting rig, looking at the call sheet, but I wasn't really reading it.
The wind kept hitting my arms, my spine shivered a little. I hugged myself tight, trying not to let it show.
Suddenly…
A weight draped around my shoulders.
Warm. Soft. Familiar.
A varsity jacket. His.
I turned around—
It was him.
Still in his stage outfit, but eyes gentle, lips curled into that smug little smirk he wears like it's part of his brand.
Rabin:
"I'll let my varsity hang on you… like a hanger."
Then—without waiting for my response,
he brushed past me and headed toward the set.
I was left there, holding his warmth around me, pretending it didn't mean anything.
But my heart?
Yeah… my heart wore that jacket long before my body did.
Author pov
The sea wind danced around the cameras, waves crashing in sync with the drama being filmed. Lights were positioned, reflectors held up. It was time for the final romantic scene of the day.
Director:
"More eye contact, Rabin! What happened to you today? You're usually sharper than this!"
Rabin (rubbing his neck):
"Sorry, Direct… I'll fix it."
Ashtine (lightly):
"It's fine, fine. Let's go again. Next take!"
Everyone reset.
Roll camera. Action.
Rabin stepped forward, gaze fixed on Ashtine.
His hand reached up, brushing away a stray strand of hair from her face.
Then, slowly, he leaned forward—his forehead resting gently against hers.
A long pause.
His eyes filled with softness, vulnerability… love?
The crew watched silently.
Behind the scenes, standing a little too still… was Y/N.
Wrapped in the same varsity jacket he had casually draped over her an hour ago.
Now it felt too big. Too warm. Too confusing.
She watched as the scene unfolded, unable to tear her eyes away.
Director (finally):
"Cut!! That's it! Beautiful shot. Good work, both of you!"
Someone from the crew shouted:
"Wrap up!"
Cheers went around the set. Staff started disassembling equipment.
But Y/N didn't move.
Rabin stepped away from Ashtine, nodding at the crew, offering a small smile. But as his eyes flicked toward where Y/N had been standing—
She was gone.
Just the jacket remained on the chair she had left behind.
The night was hushed, the only sound was the waves folding gently into the sand.
The crew had gone inside—eating, chatting, unwinding after a long shoot.
But she wasn't there.
And he noticed.
Rabin had looked through the dinner hall once.
Then the dressing room.
Then the lounge.
But no Y/N.
Not even the jacket she left behind gave him a clue this time.
Meanwhile, further down the beach, she walked barefoot in the cool sand.
Her cardigan wrapped tightly around her frame, arms crossed, head bowed.
Each step left a faint print that the tide slowly erased—just like her attempt to erase the feelings she was afraid to name.
She stopped walking.
Stared into the night sky, where the moon's reflection swam across the ocean surface.
Her thoughts were quiet but storming.
"What am I now?"
"Just a girl in the background?"
"Or am I the girl falling for the devil boss… too fast?"
Her throat tightened.
A lump forming she wouldn't admit.
Then—
Footsteps.
Slow. Crunching lightly against the shore.
She didn't have to look.
She knew.
He found her.
Rabin stopped a few steps behind her.
Said nothing for a while.
Just looked at her—hair swaying gently in the wind, silhouetted by the moonlight.
Then he spoke, voice softer than the tide.
Rabin:
"I looked for you inside… but you left me with the waves."
She still didn't turn.