JayJay POV
It started with me hunting for my charger.
It ended with psychological damage.
I was digging through the shared drawer in the common room — the one labeled "Miscellaneous" but secretly full of cursed secrets — when I found it.
A notebook.
Black.
Unlabeled.
Suspicious.
I opened it.
Instant regret.
Because on the first page, written in dramatic red ink, were three words that should never be together:
YURI'S HIT LIST
I blinked.
Paused.
Read it again.
YURI. HAS. A. HIT. LIST.
I flipped the page.
There were names.
Actual names.
In order.
First: Santos. His photo had a giant red X through it.
Santos was already dead.
Next: Jason. Then Ram.
And then—
Keifer.
His name was circled.
Twice.
With a tiny dagger doodle next to it.
I stared at it.
Froze.
Spiraled.
Then I heard footsteps.
Panic mode: activated.
I snapped a photo of the page, slammed the notebook shut, shoved it back into the drawer like it hadn't just emotionally wrecked me
I stepped out of my room and nearly crashed into Keifer.
He looked up, eyes soft, smile already forming — like he'd been waiting for me.
I froze.
Because I had the photo.
Because I knew.
Because Yuri, his best friend since forever, had circled his name on a hit list like it was a countdown.
And I?
I didn't want to be the reason they broke.
I didn't want to be the wedge.
I didn't want to be the girl who ruined a friendship built on years of loyalty and late-night chaos.
So I said nothing.
Just smiled.
Too tight.
Too fake.
Keifer tilted his head. "You okay?"
I nodded.
Lied.
Because how do you tell someone that the person who's always had their back might be aiming for their throat?
You don't.
Not yet.
Not until you're sure.
Not until you're ready.
We stepped out of class and I asked, "Shall we go?"
Keifer nodded, and we headed to his car.
The ride home was quick.
He was talking — something about Ci-n's failed pancake experiment or Blaster's new playlist — but I wasn't listening.
My mind was stuck on the hit list.
On Keifer's name.
Circled.
Twice.
With a dagger doodle.
"Jay, are you listening?" he asked, glancing at me.
"Of course I am," I lied.
He nodded, clearly not buying it.
We pulled into the driveway.
He parked.
Turned to me.
"Before you go," he said, "give me a kiss."
I gave him a look.
He gave me puppy eyes.
I sighed and leaned in, gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
He pouted. "That wasn't fair."
"You and I both know it won't stop with just a kiss," I said. "And you've already had enough."
"Fine," he muttered, dramatically defeated.
I opened the door.
Stepped out.
Still thinking about the list.
Still wondering how to tell him.
Still spiraling.
And Keifer?
He stayed in the car.
Still smiling.
Still unaware.
Still mine.
For now.