I was panting by the time I reached my room. My steps were unsteady, my palms cold despite the heat that clung to my skin. The hallway stretched longer than usual, like the universe was trying to delay the inevitable moment I'd collapse under the weight of what just happened.
Nova's voice still echoed in my head.
Henzo's music was blaring from his room, his door left wide open as usual. Some pop heartbreak anthem thumped through the walls, loud enough to match the rhythm of my racing thoughts. As I passed by, I caught his eyes for a second.
He looked up.
Just one glance, and I knew he knew something was up.
Of course, he did. He always did.
There was no point pretending I was fine. I didn't even try. I walked past him without a word, without a single explanation. What was I supposed to say, anyway?
Hey, Henzo. Guess what? The guy who broke me just made me pasta and said my name like he still owned it.
Yeah. No thanks.
I shut my door quietly behind me. Then let myself fall, face-first, onto my bed.
I didn't even bother to kick off my shoes.
I lay there, stomach down, my face buried deep into the mattress, wishing it could swallow me whole. The silence in the room felt heavier than any noise. My limbs ached from holding in everything I wanted to scream.
And for a moment, I just let it wash over me, the shame, the anger, the pain I thought I had already buried.
I thought I could keep my distance. That I could outrun him with silence and ignore him until the feelings disappeared on their own.
But fate had other plans.
No matter how many corners I turned, we always ended up in the same place. Eyes locked and breath held. And then history bleeding through the cracks of our carefully rebuilt present.
We were always being thrown back into each other's paths.
And with every encounter, it felt like I was slowly being drained dry.
A soft knock interrupted the heavy silence of my room.
"It's Henzo," came his voice, gentle.
"Come in," I muttered, not even lifting my head from where it was buried in the sheets.
I heard the doorknob turn and the faint creak of the hinges as he stepped inside. Then, the slight dip in the mattress beside me. I didn't have to look to know he had sat down, careful not to disturb the cocoon I had wrapped around myself.
"Kuya," he said quietly, almost like he was afraid I might break. "Are you okay?"
"No," I answered, my voice muffled against the bed.
There was a pause, long enough to make me think he might leave it at that.
"You've been quiet," he continued. "Like, weirdly quiet. Not even making fun of my music." His tone tried to be light, but it was laced with worry.
The kind that twisted in your gut when someone you loved wasn't acting like themselves.
"I'm just tired," I said, still unmoving, still lying face down, half-hoping he'd take the excuse and let me be.
But Henzo was sharper than he let on.
He shifted slightly. "Is this about that guy from the café?"
I didn't respond, and instead buried myself harder on the sheets.
I didn't answer. I pressed my face deeper into the sheets.
He exhaled softly. "You're not the same," he said, quieter now. "You've been… off ever since you ran into him."
I slowly pushed myself up, dragging the blanket with me like armor as I turned my back to him. The air felt cold against my skin, or maybe that was just what grief disguised as longing felt like.
"I'm tired," I repeated, words heavier this time.
There was a pause again, but this one felt tense, like he wanted to say something but knew he'd get shut out.
"Kuya—"
"Drop it, Henzo."
I didn't raise my voice, but the finality was sharp enough to cut. The silence that followed told me it hit him.
I didn't hear him move, but I felt it, the bed lifting slightly as he stood up. His footsteps padded softly toward the door.
"Okay," he said, almost in a whisper. "Just... tell me if something's up, okay?"
Then the door clicked shut.
And just like that, I was alone again, with nothing but the echo of his concern and the weight of a name I hadn't been able to stop hearing since that night.
Nova.
Damn it.
I already buried Noah. Along with the part of me that confessed after graduation in high school, and was met with silence.
I didn't even know what to think.
I just don't want to feel it again. The pain of that silence he gave me back then.
And yet, I can't help but want to see him and, most of all, hear him call me Noah.
So after that day, I did what I always did best: avoidance.
I stopped passing by the café. I took the longer route home just to dodge even the faintest glimpse of Nova's windows. But this time, I went all in.
I buried myself in work.
I started sleeping in the hospital, telling myself it was just to stay close in case of emergencies, but really, I just didn't want to be alone with my thoughts. I overbooked my rounds, volunteered for last-minute shifts, and went two full days without going home.
Faer and I bought noodles and fast food from whichever convenience store was still open after our shifts. I slept on the nurse's lounge couch with a lab coat as a blanket and a bunched-up hoodie as a pillow.
By the third day, my eyes stung from sleep deprivation, and the matcha latte in my hand didn't taste like anything anymore.
We were in the resting area, an old lounge turned shared haven for exhausted residents. Faint jazz played from someone's phone speaker. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above us. There were mismatched chairs, two vending machines, and the scent of instant coffee forever lingering in the air.
Jen," Faer said gently, shrugging off his coat. "Are you really okay?"
I nodded immediately and forced a smile, lifting my latte. "Of course. I finished all my rounds today, so stop worrying."
I stared at the matcha, hoping it would magically erase the fatigue lining my bones. Or maybe just the ache I'd been trying to ignore.
He wasn't convinced.
He let out a small grunt and walked toward his locker, folding his coat with unnecessary precision before tossing it inside. He turned around and sat across from me, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes not leaving my face.
"You think I wouldn't notice that look?" he said, mildly annoyed. "We've known each other for five years. I know your drama by heart."
I chuckled weakly. "What look?"
"That one," he said, gesturing at my face. "The same one you had the day we first met."
"How is it the same?"
"You look like you're holding yourself together with duct tape and caffeine," he said. "You're exhausted—but it's more than that. You move like someone's chasing you."
I froze.
"And I know that look," he added softly. "The one where you're enduring something you refuse to talk about."
I looked away. "It's just work."
"Liar," he said flatly.
And I flinched.
"Is this about that café guy?" he pressed. "The one you say isn't a big deal—but clearly is?"
I didn't answer right away. I traced the edge of the paper cup in my hands.
"Jen," he said quietly. "You've been here for two nights straight. This isn't normal coping. You're hiding."
I looked up and finally met his eyes. He wasn't judging. Worry is all I could see on his face.
I swallowed thickly. "It's complicated."
"Okay," he said, leaning back again. "Then let's complicate it. Tell me."
I exhaled. "It's someone I thought I stopped feeling things for. Someone who came back, and now I don't know where I stand anymore...with him or myself."
Faer leaned forward. "And you think working yourself to death will fix that?"
"I think it helps me forget," I said, quieter this time.
"Even for just a shift or two?"
"Even for just a few hours." I quickly replied.
There was silence between us. The kind that wasn't empty, just filled with unsaid things and mutual exhaustion.
Faer shook his head slowly. "You're gonna crash if you keep this up."
"I know," I whispered.
"Then let yourself feel it, just for a sec," he said, looking at me with all the tired affection of someone who's seen every version of me.
"You don't have to bleed in front of everyone. But at least stop pretending you're not hurt."
My throat tightened.
The latte in my hand shook just a little.
And for once, I didn't have anything clever to say.
The lounge had emptied out, leaving behind the hum of the vending machine and the occasional cough from the hallway.
Faer and I were still sitting in the same spot, the clock above us ticking its way toward midnight. My latte had long gone cold. His coffee sat untouched beside him.
Neither of us spoke for a while.
Then I opened my mouth.
"I saw him," I admitted, finally. My voice barely carried past the space between us.
Faer didn't say anything. He just glanced over at me, eyes steady, letting me unravel on my own terms.
Of course, he knows. Every drinking party ended with me, puking and crying because of Nova.
"He made me pasta," I added with a small, bitter laugh. "As if five years of silence could be erased by fettuccine."
Faer leaned back against the couch, his head resting against the wall as he stared up at the ceiling like he was weighing his response.
"Did it work?" he asked eventually.
I didn't answer right away. I wanted to say no. And say I'm not that easy to win back.
"He called me N-Noah again," I said, voice trembling despite how much I tried to keep it still. "Like it still mattered."
"Does it?" Faer asked gently.
I didn't know how to answer that.
The burn reached my eyes before I could stop it. My hands shook as I rubbed at my face, like I could wipe the feeling away if I tried hard enough.
But Faer was already beside me, reaching out, just holding my wrist.
"You don't have to keep doing this to yourself," he said softly. "You don't have to pretend you're okay just because it's been years. Or because you think you're supposed to be over it by now."
A breath slipped out of me, fragile and uneven—too close to a sob.
"But I don't even know what I want anymore, Faer."
"You don't need to know everything yet," he said. "But you do need to stop running from it."
I looked at him, eyes tired, face bare of any pretense.
"What if I go back," I asked quietly, "and I get hurt again?"
He shrugged. "Then at least you'll know you tried. At least you gave yourself a chance."
My gaze dropped to the floor. The edge of my shoe was scuffed, my badge lanyard was twisted around my fingers. My hands were clenched, tight enough to ache, and I hadn't even noticed.
"I think…" I started, my voice barely there. "I think I need to stop hiding."
Faer smiled, the kind that didn't push but held you steady.
"Then that's a start."
And just like that, something shifted. And it was enough.
I didn't know what I was going to do next. I didn't know if I'd see Nova tomorrow or if I'd even have the courage to speak if I did. But for the first time in weeks, I let the thought of him linger without pushing it away.
I stopped fighting the ache in my chest.
I let myself miss him. Really miss him.
And in that moment, I knew that maybe the first step wasn't running back.
Maybe it was just...not running anymore.