I ruffled my hair as I woke up from a deep slumber after my shift in the morning. And as usual, super hectic na naman sa ospital. Kahit si Faer nakatulog na lang sa upuan sa loob ng nurses room.
It was a Sunday night, so nope, the café wasn't open today. Which means no food and no seeing him either.
And it's great, because I'd rather starve than see his face again.
My chest might start pounding again for him. My heart really is a traitor.
I glanced at my alarm clock, "6 p.m.? Damn, did I really sleep for 10 hours?" I sat down as I stretched my arms.
My stomach rumbled, "Fine, I'll eat already. You're so noisy," I said, slapping my stomach.
I wore a t-shirt, not even bothering to change my pajamas as I left the house with only my wallet, phone, and myself.
The sun was setting, and the street lights were starting to light up one by one. Some are groups of students laughing and chatting loudly as they passed, couples fighting and flirting with each other, neighborhood gossips gathering at the side, and others who just looked exhausted and stressed out from work.
My mind was somehow at peace whenever I walked alone like this.
But tell me why I'm here, standing outside the closed café. Staring at the huge, bold letters 'Café Novus.'
I sighed. Why am I even here?
I shook my head as I groaned, "Why do I keep thinking about him again?" While the people started giving me weird looks.
Yeah, just look. I'm done with my people-pleasing era anyway.
I continued walking until I saw the old convenience store near our old school. I like it because it was one of the few old establishments that were truly historic in this neighborhood. And the bonus is that it's really just the corner from the street and a block away from the cafe.
Perfect, right? I can enjoy my noodles and soda for only a few cents.
I opened the door as a girl greeted me with a warm smile.
"Good evening, Sir."
I smiled back. "Good evening."
I walked toward the aisle and started rummaging around the cup noodles when I suddenly caught a glimpse of someone walking in.
A familiar one, at that.
I thought we would only meet at the shop, but why is he here, walking inside the convenience store just as I was grabbing instant noodles?
"Are you following me?" I blurted when he walked into the convenience store just as I was grabbing instant noodles.
He raised a brow. "Yes, I also live in this neighborhood. So yeah, by default, I'm also close to this convenience store."
Right. Of course. By coincidence, he lives just a few blocks away from the subdivision. F*** fate!
But wait, how did he know I live there?
"Wait, how did you know I live in this neighborhood?" I asked, crossing my arms.
"I saw you walking out of the subdivision," He casually said.
I glared at him. The f*** is he stalking me for?
He raised a brow, "And I'm not stalking," he added, grabbing a bottle of soda and dropping it into his basket.
Like he can read my mind.
"And nope, I didn't read your mind." He chuckled as he scanned through the shelves.
I scoffed, and crossed my arms, "Well, only when my ex-rival from high school starts showing up everywhere I go."
He smirked. That tiny, knowing smirk that made my stomach twist. "So you still think of me as a rival?"
"No," I said too quickly. "I don't think of you at all."
He didn't say anything. He just walked past me, brushing lightly against my arm.
"You're still a terrible liar, Noah."
I froze.
That name, again.
My heart pounded. The instant noodles in my hand felt heavy. Like, weights have been put on my shoulders.
I stared at the aisle in front of me for a long time, while he put things inside his basket.
What the hell is he doing?
Because whatever it was, it was working.
Because now, I couldn't stop thinking about him.
He then turned to me, "Oh, and if you're thinking of eating that junk, just come to my place. I'll cook you something better."
I turned, mid-sigh, caught between skepticism and surprise. "Are you serious?"
I hesitated, because a part of me wanted to walk away. Say no, and keep things simple. Keep him at arm's length, where it was safe.
But another part of me, one I've tried to shut up for years, missed the strange sense of calm that only he ever gave me.
Before I could respond, he took the noodles from my hand and placed them back on the shelf without a word.
"I'm having dinner anyway," He stated, looking straight in my eyes. As his eyes glisten with...is it hope?
"I'll cook spaghetti..." He trailed off, face getting closer to me.
My breath hitched as I instinctively closed my eyes and pursed my lips.
Until I can feel his breath on my cheek, "...with bell peppers." He whispered so close to my ears that I even felt the hair on my neck stand up.
My eyes opened, and I looked at him, almost brushing my lips on his cheeks.
"F-fine!" I muttered, flinching away from him, making him chuckle.
And until we got to the cashier, I only followed him in silence. I don't even know what made me follow him!
Maybe it was my favorite spaghetti with bell peppers, or maybe it's the way he said it, so casually, like inviting me over was the most natural thing in the world, or maybe, just maybe, deep down, I was just...tired of pretending I didn't care.
We walked side by side in silence, the evening air brushing coolly against my cheeks. I glanced at him, and just like always, under the moonlight, he looked more dashing than I'd like to admit.
If someone had told me years ago that I'd be walking alone with Nova Greatstone, I would've laughed. He and Tales were practically glued together, inseparable to the point that people started raising eyebrows.
Honestly, I did too.
Lagi silang magkasama, no matter where their classrooms were, even if they were in different buildings or on different floors, they always found a way to be with each other. I even started wondering what they really were.
I was overthinking it to the point of getting jealous.
But then again, Tales had a girlfriend back then.
"We're here," he announced, pulling something from his pocket.
I stared at the building in front of me. "Isn't this the café?" I asked him, and he nodded, as I heard key jiggling and the sound of him unlocking the door.
"I live on the second floor."
"So you really lived here," I muttered under my breath, apparently not quiet enough.
"Of course," he said. "After all…you're here."
"What?" I blurted out, heat rising to my face.
He laughed softly, "I said it's close to the café, of course."
He opened the door and stepped aside. "Get in."
I followed as we came upstairs, where there was a door that he opened, and my eyes immediately caught the boxes stacked by the wall, still unopened.
"Sorry, medyo busy pa sa Café. Kaya hindi ko pa naaayos lahat," he explained, slipping off his shoes and placing them neatly on the rack. I did the same, though I just left my slippers a little off to the side.
What surprised me the most was how clean the place looked despite the mess. His place was dressed almost entirely in white. White walls, white counters, even white curtains. Good thing the tiles were black, or else I'd probably be blinded.
The living room was spacious, furnished with a huge L-shaped couch, a sleek glass coffee table, and a large TV mounted on the wall. The kitchen was connected to the living room.
Rich vibes, if we're being honest. Even the lights were those long, expensive-looking bulbs that I only really see on the internet.
But beyond the clean design, the place felt...warm.
It was homey. There was a faint scent of garlic and soy sauce in the air, like someone had been cooking something comforting just earlier.
Nova moved around the kitchen with ease, like he belonged there.
"You can sit here," he said, nodding to the counter.
I obeyed without thinking.
"Do you want anything other than spaghetti?" he asked as he began unpacking the groceries and placing them in the fridge.
"Nope, spaghetti is fine with me," I replied, trying not to sound too awkward.
He smirked, "Do you want soda?"
My eyes lit up involuntarily. "Y-yes," I answered too quickly, almost squealing.
He caught that, smirked again. "As you wish," he said, already pulling out ingredients.
As you wish, my ass! If he's some random that said that to me, my stomach would have churned so much from the cringey line, but somehow it made my heart pound again.
And there I was, dumbfounded, watching him smile as if he didn't just throw my entire emotional equilibrium off-balance.
My face was warm again.
What the hell am I blushing for?
Heart, please. Don't be like this.
He tied up his hair in a low ponytail, his straight jet-black strands falling neatly behind him. His hands, now slightly veiny and more mature, moved with precision as he chopped onions and garlic.
I remembered those same hands from high school. It was skinny, always holding a pen, sometimes doodling at the back of his notebook. I used to stare at them when he wasn't looking.
Snap out of it.
I cleared my throat. "So...what made you think of becoming a chef?"
He paused, knife mid-air. Then he glanced at me before returning to his chopping.
"It's always been my dream," he said simply.
I went quiet. I didn't know what to say. He was smiling more than usual tonight, and now this? A chef? Really?
"Then why did you take STEM? You should've been in TVL if that's the case, right?" He stopped chopping again. This time, he stared at me, straight in the eyes.
"Well… there was someone I wanted to meet."
That hit me like a punch to the chest.
Something twisted painfully inside me. I didn't know why.
But I forced a laugh. "So you chose STEM just because of this someone?"
He nodded, lips curling into a smile again. "Yup."
And I suddenly wanted to ask, Who?
But I didn't. Because I was too afraid of the answer.
He cooked quietly, moving around the kitchen with ease while I sat there, arms crossed on the counter, just...watching him. There was something oddly comforting about the way he moved, like this was his own little world.
Just like back then.
While he was tenderizing the pork, he suddenly handed me a plate of warm rice and a glass of water, as if it were the most natural thing.
"Is there anything I can help with?" I offered, more out of politeness than anything else.
He glanced at me briefly, then shook his head. "Just stay there, Princess."
I shot him a glare. "Don't call me that."
He smirked but didn't look back. "Fine, Your Highness. Stay put."
"Whatever," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Cook well, okay? That might still be undercooked."
He just chuckled and turned off the stove.
Finally. My stomach growled. I can finally eat.
He plated the food with the kind of care you'd see in cooking shows, then placed a dish in front of me. "Hope you're not allergic to shrimp anymore," he said, so casually, almost too casually.
I froze, spoon halfway to my mouth. "You remember...that?"
I looked up, and he was already looking at me.
Our eyes met as the air shifted.
"I remember a lot of things about you, Noah," he said, soft but steady.
His voice was low, almost a whisper, as he stared into my eyes, as if he wanted to tell me something.
I blinked, unsure whether to melt or panic. He placed two plates, two glasses, and a pair of utensils on the counter as he placed rice and the dishes on the counter.
That accident suddenly came back to me. The one time a club member accidentally brought a dish with shrimp.
Gosh, that was chaotic.
It started so normally.
"Hey, this dish is really good," I mumbled with my mouth half-full, eyes widening in delight as I paired it with freshly cooked rice from the canteen.
It was my favorite Filipino dish, Laing. The creamy, earthy flavor with just the right amount of spice hit all the right spots. My comfort food at its best.
"Of course," Alisha beamed with pride. "My mom cooked that." Our ever-confident Vice President leaned back in her chair, flipping her hair like we were being filmed.
"Just eat, Pres. Good thing you like dishes like that," she added while shoveling rice into her mouth. "I'm sick of it. That's always our food at home."
I chuckled, still chewing. "You know, same. When my mom cooks this, it's always way too spicy. But your mom's laing? The spice level is just right, it—"
Before I could finish my sentence, the door to the Debate Club room burst open.
As usual, it was Tales. And beside him, like a matching accessory, was Nova. Always side by side, always following each other, it makes me just want to snatch Nova away from him.
Great, now I'm pissed. I didn't get to feel satisfied with my laing.
"Don't you guys know how to knock?" I said flatly, still mid-chew, too lazy to pretend I was happy to see them.
Alisha scoffed dramatically and crossed her arms. "And excuse me, non-members aren't allowed here. This is a club room, okay?"
Tales just smiled, unbothered as always. "Are debate members always like this? So scary." He mock-whimpered, then hid behind Nova's shoulder like a lost puppy. I could only roll my eyes.
Nova, as usual, looked unimpressed. But staring at me.
"Ma'am Cha, was planning to invite you to eat with us later. She said we're celebrating," Nova said quietly, eyes briefly flicking toward me before returning to the floor.
Tales nodded beside him, clearly excited. "There's food!"
Then he spotted our little setup.
"What's that?" tanong niya, pointing to the open Tupperware and the paper plate I was still munching from.
"Laing. Duh," Alisha snapped, rolling her eyes as if the answer was painfully obvious.
"Come ea—" I was about to add something when I suddenly stopped.
Something tingled on my tongue.
At first, I ignored it. Maybe it was just too spicy. But then it spread, and I felt it.
The itching.
Not just on my tongue, but inside my mouth, down my throat. Then my arms, then both of them.
I dropped my spoon. "Wait..."
"Jen, are you okay? Why are you turning red?!" Alisha's voice was sharp, laced with sudden panic.
"Holy sh*t—yeah!" Tales blurted, pointing at me. His usual smugness was gone. Panic was real on his face.
I looked down and sh*t. My skin was starting to blotch red, my breathing getting tight, my throat beginning to swell.
"Is this real?" I asked, my voice cracking, the itching unbearable now. I was trying to stay calm, pero nanginginig na rin ako.
Nova stepped forward so fast I didn't even see him move. He grabbed my wrist and inspected the redness on my arms, his face so serious it was like he was a completely different person.
"Are you allergic to something?" he asked, eyes sharp. Focusing on my arms.
Then it clicked.
"Alisha," I croaked, "Did your mom put shrimp in the laing?"
Alisha's face fell, and she covered her mouth. "Oh my God—she did! She used balao-balao[1]. She always adds it to her laing. Jen, I'm so sorry! I didn't know!" Alisha cried.
"Do you have any medicine?" Nova asked, as he stared at me.
I shook my head, lips trembling. "None. I never expect that I'd—HEY! What are you doing?!"
Before I could finish, Nova scooped me up. Literally bridal style that I bet I can beat an actual bride in a wedding dress. He lifted me like I weighed nothing. Like we were in some drama series, and he was the emotionally unavailable male lead.
Right? So dramatic. You'd think he was a prince.
I was so shocked I couldn't even move. "Let's go to the clinic," he said with a calmness that should've been illegal in that moment.
And then he ran down the hallway, passing by confused students. Some gasped, and some just stared in awe. I could barely protest. My arms wrapped around his neck instinctively because I was half-dizzy from the reaction and from the fact that Nova, my so-called rival, my certified annoyance, was carrying me like I was his.
I was pulled back to reality when he suddenly spoke, as if shattering the silence that had almost become comfortable.
"Do you want soda or juice?" he asked while opening the fridge, not even looking at me.
"Uh, do you have Lemon soda?" I asked, still a bit hesitant.
He peeked inside, then nodded. "Okay, Lemon it is."
"Wow, you even have canned Lemon soda," I said, half-joking but genuinely surprised. Only rich people can afford this, right? Or maybe my family's just really frugal.
"What, is this your first time seeing one?" he shot back with a playful grin as he grabbed some ice cubes.
He put three ice cubes carefully into the glass, then slowly poured the cold Sprite. I could clearly hear the hiss of carbonation as it bubbled inside the glass.
I rolled my eyes, trying not to smile. "Whatever," I said, though I knew my cheeks had turned slightly red.
Then he sat beside me, placing the glass of soda on top of the table when he asked another question.
"So...do you really not draw anymore?"
I shook my head, biting back a scoff. "I told you so many times—I don't have the time." I rolled my eyes, but even I could hear how forced it sounded.
He leaned back, arms crossed, eyes locked on mine. "It's a shame,"
"You were always beautiful when you painted." He added, and my breath hitched.
The words hit me like a whisper and a wave at the same time, crashing into all the places I thought I had safely buried.
I looked away, jaw tightening. "That was a long time ago," I muttered, almost like I was trying to convince myself. "I'm not that boy anymore."
"You're still that boy," he said, unwavering.
I turned back to him, eyes sharp. "No. That boy was in love. That boy was stupid."
He didn't flinch.
"He wasn't stupid," he said, voice lower now gentler, like he knew I'd break if he said it any louder. "He was brave."
Silence pressed down between us, thick and aching. My chest felt tight.
Then, softer than before, he whispered, "I missed you, Noah."
And just like that, the ground under me shifted.
My breath hitched, unsteady. My heart, traitorous as always, slammed against my ribs, loud and fast and alive.
He reached across the table, slow, hesitant. And when his fingers brushed against mine, just for a second, it was enough. Enough to make the air vanish. Enough to make the years between us feel like nothing.
And suddenly, I remembered what it felt like to be called Noah.
The name that only he used.
The name that belonged to someone who once dared to love him.
And for the first time in years, I felt that boy inside me stir again.
Still alive, waiting and wanting...him.
[1] It's small fermented shrimp.