Jayjay's POV:
(Some things don't explode. They freeze.)
The message came when I was already halfway out the door.
Not dramatic.
No music cue.
Just my phone vibrating once, sharp and insistent.
Unknown Number:
Hello, Jayjay. This is Ethan's mother. We were hoping you could come by for a while.
I stared at the screen longer than necessary.
My thumb hovered.
My chest tightened.
I hadn't heard from them in a long time.
'Okay, po,' I typed back. I'll come.
The tower loomed higher than I remembered.
Glass. Too many windows. Too many lives stacked on top of each other, as if nothing could go wrong.
I signed in at the lobby.
The guard glanced at the logbook, then handed me a visitor tag.
"Elevator B," he said.
I stepped inside.
The doors closed with a soft thud.
As the elevator rose, my eyes drifted to the building directory beside the buttons.
Residents listed by floor. Unit numbers. Names.
Routine.
Boring.
Until my brain snagged on something familiar.
April Delos Reyes. 17th Floor A
Ethan Josh Macaryo 17th Floor B
I blinked.
Read it again.
Once.
Twice.
April. Ethan.
My stomach dropped.
Same tower.
Close enough that the air suddenly felt thinner.
The elevator dinged.
I stepped out like my legs hadn't gotten the memo yet.
Their unit was quiet.
Too quiet.
His parents greeted me politely, a little stiff, like they didn't know whether this was a good idea but were hoping it would be.
"He's… not been sleeping well," they said. "We thought seeing you might help."
I nodded.
Inside, he sat on the couch.
Same posture.
Different weight.
When he looked up and saw me, something in him snapped.
Not loud.
Internal.
His breath hitched. His fingers curled into the fabric of his pants. His gaze darted.. door, window, hallway. Like the room was closing in.
"Hey," I said softly. "It's just me."
That didn't help.
He stood too fast.
"I.. I need-" His voice cracked. "I need air."
He pushed past me.
I followed.
The house felt narrow. The lights too white.
He paced, breathing unevenly, shoulders tight like he was bracing for something that wasn't there.
"I didn't know they'd call you," I said quickly. "I swear."
"I know," he said. His laugh came out wrong. "It's not you."
Silence stretched.
Then, quietly, dangerously honest:
"I thought I was over it."
My chest ached.
Some ghosts don't ask permission.
"I can't stay," I said. Not because I didn't care, but because staying felt like reopening something that barely scarred over.
He nodded.
Didn't look offended.
Just tired.
"I'm sorry," I said.
I left before either of us could say something we'd regret.
I walked back. Walked to school.
HVIS was loud when I got back.
Music. Shouting. Booths glowing under cheap lights.
Normal.
Except nothing felt normal.
I spotted Section E near the benches.
Keifer first, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Yuri stood a little away from him.
And April.
April wasn't laughing.
Her posture was closed. Arms folded, shoulders squared. Expression neutral in the way that means don't ask.
Yuri wasn't touching her, not near her, nor talking.
That's when I knew.
Something was wrong.
Keifer saw me and immediately snapped.
"Where were you?"
I flinched.
"We were calling you," he continued. "Do you know how long we waited?"
"I had to go somewhere," I said.
"You couldn't text?" he shot back.
"Keifer."
Keifer stopped. Barely.
I looked at April.
She didn't look at me.
Her eyes were focused on her phone. Headphones blasting music which was easily audible.
Cold April.
The version that shows up when she's alone, even in a crowd.
My throat tightened.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to disappear."
Still nothing.
Yuri shifted, clearly wanting to step closer and clearly not doing it.
The space between them hurt to look at.
"I went to see… someone," I said carefully.
April's eyes flicked to me.
Yuri turned fully now.
Keifer straightened.
"I ran into my ex," I finished.
No name.
Didn't need one.
April's breath stuttered. Just once, before she locked herself down again.
Keifer cursed under his breath.
Yuri went still.
The festival noise pressed in, cruel in its cheerfulness.
"I didn't plan it," I added. "Their parents called me."
That did it.
April finally turned to face me.
Yuri watched her closely, concern written all over his face, but he didn't touch her.
Didn't speak.
And somehow, that silence felt heavier than any argument.
Keifer ran a hand through his hair. "You should've said something."
"I didn't have time," I said. "And I didn't know it would-"
"It's fine," April cut in.
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
"We'll talk later."
She wasn't looking at me.
She was looking at Yuri.
Yuri nodded once.
Nothing else.
No reassurance.
No softness.
Just restraint.
And restraint, sometimes, hurts more.
I felt the weight of what I'd dragged in with me settle over the group.
Somewhere behind us, someone laughed.
The festival went on.
But Section E stood still.
Holding something unspoken between us.
That night, as the lights flickered and the music blurred into noise, I realised something I couldn't unsee:
April without Yuri nearby
was not loud.
Not dramatic.
Not reckless.
She was quiet.
Guarded.
And whatever had passed between her and Yuri before I arrived..
it wasn't over.
It was just waiting.