I caught my breath as soon as I stumbled into the safety of my unit. I pressed both hands against my chest, feeling the heavy, frantic thrumming of my heart after that sudden flight. His gaze refused to leave me; it was haunting, pacing through the corridors of my mind as if it couldn't find the exit, choosing instead to stay and disturb my peace.
"Ensley, come on. Why did you just leave like that?" I muttered to myself, rubbing my face with my palms in a desperate attempt to wipe away the lingering tension.
I took a deep breath, forcing a composure I didn't feel. I paced a short distance in the foyer, my head spinning, yet my feet refused to go still. My heart was a restless thing, tight with a nervousness I couldn't quite name.
Searching for a distraction, I decided to take a shower, hoping the water would wash away the unease. But it was a futile wish. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. I saw the depth of his stare—those dark, soul-piercing eyes that seemed to wait for me behind my eyelids.
I knew then that I had to go back. I had to apologize, if only to silence the nagging guilt reflected in his memory. I couldn't bear it; the remorse was leaking into every corner of my mind. He had wanted nothing more than to offer comfort for whatever was bothering me, and in return, I had offered him nothing but silence and my back as I walked away.
I sat on the edge of my bed for a moment, paralyzed by the weight of my thoughts. Everything felt like a tangled mess: the issues at home, the way my mother treated me afterward, the steady presence of my father by my side... and now, this man and the way his eyes lingered.
I couldn't shake the memory of him checking up on me in the elevator. It acted like a trigger, pulling back the painful memories of my mother—her sharp words, her calculated movements, and the bitter arguments she had with my father.
The tears came then, and I didn't stop them. I knew if I bottled this up, I would eventually shatter. I had already bared my heart to Sage; I had already let myself cry in front of a crowd.
Enough crying, aren't you tired from crying every now and then?, I told myself.
I wiped my eyes and adjusted my reflection in the mirror, changing into something more comfortable—a simple racerback top and dolphin shorts. I gave myself one last look before heading toward his unit. My feet felt strangely light, as if they were moving on their own while my mind floated elsewhere. Perhaps my brain was simply too exhausted from overthinking and had opted for a temporary blackout.
Before I could second-guess myself, my hand moved of its own accord and knocked on his door. My heart and mind were still at war over the gesture, and when several minutes passed without an answer, I turned to leave.
But just as I pivoted, the sound of the door opening stopped me in my tracks.
There he stood, caught in the middle of undressing. His coat was gone, and the first three buttons of his white dress shirt were undone, revealing the sharp line of his collarbones and the firm planes of his chest. I even caught sight of a few stray moles against his skin.
His left hand was tangled in his necktie, which looked as though it had just been loosened, while his right hand gripped the top of the doorframe. The posture made him tower over me, his raised arm making his height feel even more imposing.
"Ms. Dela Merced," he greeted, tilting his head slightly.
I watched as his tongue darted out to graze his lower lip for a fleeting second before his jaw tightened. I felt small in his shadow. I bit my lip and averted my eyes, terrified of what he might think if I stared a second too long. I still didn't know how to act around him after the scene I'd caused earlier.
"You can come in."
He didn't wait for a reply. He swung the door wide, revealing a living room bathed in the classic palette of a bachelor: shades of black, white, and gray. It was a stark contrast to the lighter, warmer tones of my own unit.
He motioned toward the sofa, and I took a seat, my eyes wandering curiously. There were three doors leading off the main area—likely a bedroom, an office, and perhaps a guest room or restroom.
"Have you eaten?" he asked, setting his things aside. He placed a bowl of freshly reheated kare-kare and a plate of rice on the table in front of us. We are now facing each other on his table, both trying to act normal.
As if this isn't normal for us? We were never comfortable around each other ever since I came from this dimension. Not even once we get to be close friends or something.
Before I could even form a "no," my stomach betrayed me with a loud, demanding growl. The food suddenly looked like gold to me, and I couldn't hide the hunger in my eyes.
"I figured," he chuckled, handing me a plate. "Don't expect too much. I cooked it this morning, I just reheated it."
I nodded, already mesmerized by the rich aroma of the peanut sauce. My hunger intensified. "I can cook for you next time, when I have the time," he added while his gaze darted elsewhere.
Does this mean he has plans on having me over again? Not just to hangout but to cook for me as well? My cheeks heated from the mere thought. That is just too much, I know myself that he's just saying that out of his proper manners. Because I know for sure that he isn't telling me that out of his kindness.
He began rolling up his sleeves, pulling them back until they rested at his elbows. For the first time, I noticed the prominent veins in his forearms trailing down to his hands. Why hadn't I noticed that before, when he was in a simple polo shirt?
I swallowed hard and forced my focus back to the meal.
The first bite was heaven. I hadn't expected him to be such a capable cook; I'd assumed his busy schedule meant a diet of takeout and restaurant meals since he always portrays this image as a "busy man".
"You can slow down, we have a long way to go. We're having beers after this," he said with a hint of authority, his gaze fixed on his own plate. "Are you okay with that?" He finally looked up at me.
"With what?" I asked, caught in the intensity of his scrutiny.
He was likely searching for signs of my earlier breakdown. My eyes were probably still puffy, a dead giveaway of the tears I'd shed. Uncomfortable, I looked away.
"With the beers. I didn't want to assume you liked—"
"No, no, it's fine," I assured him.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him nod and return to his meal. I ate until I was nearly full, forcing myself to stop only to save room for the drinks.
"Leave the plates there, I'll take care of them. You can head out to the balcony first," he said, gesturing toward the curtains fluttering in the evening breeze.
I did as he suggested. I do not want to spoil the moment by arguing with him, pushing that I should do it instead since he already cooked for us, even though it's just a reheated food.
When I came to his balcony, the city lights and the cool night air greeted me. The view was breathtaking, with the moon and stars offering a silent, celestial comfort. The breeze felt like a gentle embrace against my skin that I couldn't resist but to close my eyes and feel the cold touch of the night.
I was lost in the sight of the bustling world below when he joined me, handing me a cold beer. I noticed a small round table nearby stocked with extra cans, chips, and tissues.
"Sorry, and thank you," I started, breaking the silence that threatened to become heavy.
He leaned against the railing, his gaze meeting mine. My heart skipped a beat again. I don't know if it was just the lighting, but his eyes seemed to sparkle under the moonlight.
"For what?" he asked, his eyes never wavering.
I took a sip of my drink, using the moment to break eye contact. But when I looked back, he was still watching me.
"For leaving you at the elevator like that. And for staying with me," I said, offering a small smile.
He chuckled, his eyes tracing the contours of my face. "It's fine. And besides, you're the one accompanying me, Ms. Dela Merced."
I shook my head, smiling. Technically he was right, but we both knew the truth. He seemed to sense that I didn't want to talk about my problems yet, and I appreciated his restraint. He didn't pry; he respected my boundaries.
"Just call me Ensley," I said, feeling a sudden wave of ease in his presence.
Perhaps we could actually get along, provided his arrogance and lack of manners stayed at bay. The world would be a much more peaceful place if that side of him remained hidden.
"Right. Ensley," he smirked, taking a sip of his drink before turning his gaze to the sky.
We stood there for several minutes, soaking in the night. My heart felt lighter, comforted by the quiet—no shouting, just the distant hum of traffic and the whispering wind. I felt him glancing at me periodically, as if checking my temperature.
Didn't he realize that he and the moon were the ones healing me?
"I wish it were always this peaceful. No hardships, no problems," I mused, captivated by the night.
Though I could feel his gaze on me, I kept my eyes on the stars.
He was silent for a long moment, his brow furrowed, his dark eyes mirroring the midnight sky. It sent a shiver down my spine.
He sighed before finally speaking. "There's no such thing as peace in this cruel world," Perseus said, his eyes locked on mine.
"I'm aware of that, it was just a wishful thinking," I replied.
Everyone knew that truth; we lived it every day. Even him—I knew he carried his own burdens. Given the nature of his work, my problems probably seemed trivial in comparison.
"Then I hope you're also aware that problems are meant to be fixed or dropped. Stop holding onto things that only drain you. If it's too much, try asking for help. Life is hard enough; don't make it more difficult than it needs to be." He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair away from my face.
His warm fingertips felt like fire against my cold skin. A shiver raced through me, and my heart felt as though it had been struck by a thousand volts of electricity.
That moment stayed with me, helping me navigate the storms in my mind. Whenever I felt myself slipping into negativity, I thought of his words. Even now, the weight of my mother's words felt a little lighter.
xxx
"Where are we going? Aren't we going to the library? I need to finish my part for our RPH project," Xael complained, her eyes glued to her phone.
"Let's just go to the computer cafe near the university," Sage replied, waiting for the food she'd just bought.
The campus was crawling with booths, most of them selling food. While there were some school supplies for sale, the snacks clearly dominated.
"That's a better idea. If you need to look something up, you'll have a computer right in front of you," Berna added, sipping her drink while texting her boyfriend.
None of us argued. A computer cafe meant air conditioning, internet access, and a decent place to hang out.
We stepped inside, and I was surprised to find it wasn't just any ordinary cafe. There was a section where you could order full meals while you worked. It was no wonder the place was packed.
"Hello, Ma'am. Are you here to eat, or do you need a station?" a male voice called out from behind a crowded counter. My friends were already hovering there.
"Can we have both?" a girl asked from the front of the line.
The crowd was buzzing, but I ignored it, impatient to sit down. The counter was swamped, mostly with girls.
"Yes, yes! You can eat while you enjoy the computers," the guy laughed, causing a fresh wave of giggles from the girls in front.
Something about his voice sounded familiar. I couldn't place it, but I felt a nagging sense of recognition. Then again, I didn't know many men, so I doubted it was anyone significant.
"Can we have you instead?" Sage joked, turning to me with a wink.
I rolled my eyes. Sage was always like this—playful and charming, which often led men to get the wrong idea.
"Only you can," the man replied. I looked up, and my eyes widened.
It was the owner of the computer shop near my house! What was his name again? Hawi? Cawhi? Harry?
"Hey, Ensley!" he shouted, waving me over.
Confused, I walked toward him. My friends saw the opening and followed me, effectively cutting the line. I felt the irritated glares of the other customers, but since the man behind the counter had summoned us, there wasn't much they could do.
"You know him?" Sage whispered. I nodded, and she gave him an interested look.
"Don't forget to introduce me, okay?" she pleaded in a mock-whimper.
"Fine, fine," I muttered. With Sage, 'no' wasn't an option.
When we reached the counter, Sage was beaming, while Berna and Xael offered apologetic smiles to the people we'd jumped over.
"Haven't seen you in a while," the guy greeted me.
I stared at him, desperately trying to fish his name out of my memory. We'd only met once; how was I supposed to remember?
"You don't remember me? It's Yawhi! Yawhi Madrigal. I let you use the computer that one time," he said, noticing my blank expression.
"I remember you, just not the name," I admitted.
"Ouch, Ms. Ensley!" He clutched his chest dramatically, feigning a wounded heart. I just pulled out my wallet.
"Cut it out. We need a station," I said, my eyes fixed on my cash. I had to be careful with my budget, balancing my daily expenses with the needs at home.
"Still grumpy, I see. Fine, I'll get you and your friend... Miss...?" He trailed off, looking at Sage, who was practically glowing.
"This is Sage. And the two behind us are Berna and Xael."
Berna gave a polite smile, while Xael just nodded and went back to surveying the room. Sage, however, offered him a hand and a smile that was definitely not her 'just friends' look. I knew that expression—Yawhi was in trouble.
Because the cafe was so busy, Yawhi quickly assigned us stations. I was a bit annoyed to find that Xael, Berna, and I were placed in the general area, while Sage was given the computer right at the counter—Yawhi's personal station. My friends didn't seem to mind; they were used to Sage's antics.
I shook off the thought and focused on my task: finding a second job. My mother's debt was a constant shadow over my life. It had been days since her near-arrest, and my search for work that fit my college schedule had been fruitless.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. Even the online listings looked like scams. I looked over at Xael, who was sipping orange juice and frowning at her screen.
"God! Honibee's fans are losing it! Queen Bee finally had to address the rumors," Xael said, her eyes glued to the monitor.
Berna immediately stood up to look over Xael's shoulder. "What are they asking?"
I joined them, curious. My friends were my only source of info on the "UA" (Underground Associates). If I tried to look it up myself, I usually ended up more confused.
"They're asking why the story is repeating, and if this version is going to be different from the first one," Xael explained with an eye-roll.
"What did she say?" I asked.
Xael pointed to the post on Tweetie.
HonxBeeI have my reasons to do so. And for the question on the flow of the story, it wouldn't be thrilling if I spoil you, right?
My heart hammered. Did she really write everything that was happening between Perseus and me? Did she know I existed? Was I really being pulled into her story?
Without another thought, I sent her a DM. I checked the paper Ira had given me to make sure I had the right handle. If I asked Xael, she'd definitely get suspicious.
As I sat there re-reading my message to Honibee, when Sage suddenly appeared behind me, grabbing my shoulders and making me jump.
"I've been watching you from over there," she said, pointing to the counter. "I can see what you're browsing. You could do that on your phone; you're wasting money here."
I sighed. "I don't have a decent phone, Sage."
My current phone was ancient—strictly for calls and texts. My budget didn't allow for expensive gadgets.
"Oh, right. That's why I brought my old one," she said, digging through her red designer tote bag.
She held out a phone to me. I stared at it, confused. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"Take a bite," she deadpanned.
"Sage, I'm serious."
"What do you think? Use it for your searches!" she said, gesturing to my computer screen. "It's yours now. Use it however you want—I don't care if you're watching porn on it." She smirked and dodged as I tried to swat her.
"Margaux Sage Agustin!" I called out, but she was already laughing her way to the food corner.
I looked at the phone. It was rose gold, sleek, and looked brand new. This is her old phone? I knew I couldn't return it; Sage would only take it as an insult.
Two hours later, we decided to head out. Sage was leaving with Yawhi, and Xael was heading back to the library, so I hitched a ride with Berna.
"Nice phone!" Berna noted as we walked to her car.
"Sage gave it to me. Now I don't know what to do with my old one."
"Use it for load!" Berna laughed, gesturing for me to get into the driver's seat.
We were in her family's driveway. She had offered to teach me how to drive in their subdivision, where it was quiet and safe.
"You're terrible," I laughed, finally getting the engine to turn over. It wasn't an automatic like her usual car; it was an old black Suzuki Jimny they kept in the garage. Berna insisted that learning manual was better—if you could drive a stick, you could drive anything.
"Look at you, coming out of your shell! Finally getting some sun?" she teased, glancing at her phone. She was referring to the fact that I'd finally created social media accounts and followed all of them.
"Shut up," I muttered, focusing on the road.
I was driving incredibly slowly, terrified of hitting the large rocks lining the curb. Every turn felt like a high-stakes maneuver.
"Oh, your phone lit up. Someone DM'd you," Berna said, picking up my new phone. Her eyes went wide. "QUEEN BEE DM'D YOU?!"
I slammed on the brakes, sending us both jolting forward. "Sorry! Sorry!" I gasped, grabbing the phone from her. Thankfully, the street was empty, or I'd have been in serious trouble.
I looked at the screen, my hands trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity.
Is this it? Am I finally going to get some answers?