Jay-Jay's POV
By the time we got back to the apartment, my cheeks hurt from smiling. The smell of garlic and sugar from Eman's still clung to our clothes, and my phone was overflowing with new photos — C-in's blurry selfies, Felix's "artistic" shots, Percy's accidental close-ups of his own forehead.
Keifer shut the door behind us with a soft click and leaned his back against it, exhaling like he'd just finished a marathon. "I think my ears are still ringing," he said.
I dropped onto the couch, laughing. "From the screaming or from Percy's singing?"
"Both," he groaned, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. He walked over and flopped down beside me, head landing in my lap like it lived there. The bracelet Serina gave him slid down his wrist as he laced his fingers with mine.
For a moment, we just stayed like that — no words, just the hum of the city outside and the quiet in here.
"How's your heart?" I asked softly, playing with his hair.
He looked up at me, eyes softer than any light. "Full," he said simply. "Didn't think I'd ever get this. Mom laughing with Eman. Keiren and Keigan arguing over fries. You next to me like it's the most normal thing in the world."
"It is normal," I said. "Our normal."
He smiled, turning his face toward my hand to kiss my palm. "You know what my favorite part was?"
"C-in almost falling into the huge tub of ice cream ?"
"That was second." He chuckled. "First was when Mom called you 'anak' without even thinking about it."
Heat flooded my cheeks at the memory. Serina's voice, warm and casual: "Jay, anak, pass the soy sauce." Just like that, like I'd always been part of them.
"I… liked that too," I admitted, trying to sound calm and failing.
Keifer sat up slowly, shifting so we were face-to-face, knees touching. "You are family," he said. "Not just to me."
"You're gonna make me cry again," I muttered, blinking fast.
He cupped my cheeks, thumbs gentle. "We've done enough crying. Let's just… be happy for a while, yeah?"
"Deal."
He moved closer to my lips and gave a warm kiss.
We moved to the balcony after a bit, the night air cool against our skin. The city lights spread out below us, and for once they didn't feel distant or threatening — just pretty.
"Remember when you first brought me here?" I said, leaning on the rail. "I thought you were some mysterious rich kid hiding in a villain lair."
He snorted. "To be fair, you did keep calling me ulupong."
"Because you were."
"Am," he corrected, stepping behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. "Your ulupong."
I rolled my eyes, but I smiled. "My ulupong," I agreed softly.
We stood there in comfortable silence, the wind tugging at my hair, his chin resting on my shoulder.
"What do you want next?" he asked quietly after a while. "No more lists. No more Kaizer. Just… us. What's your next wish, Jay Jay?"
I thought about it. About everything we'd already survived. About Section E, Serina, Eman's, the apartment that finally felt like a home and not a hiding place.
"I want boring days," I said. "School. Movies. Fighting with C-in over snacks. You walking me to class. Serina nagging you to sleep early. Angelo scolding us for being too loud. Just… life."
He hummed, the sound vibrating against my back. "Boring sounds perfect."
"And you?" I asked.
He turned me gently so I was facing him, eyes searching mine. "I've got everything I wanted," he said. "You. My family back. A home that isn't built on fear." He paused, then smiled crookedly. "Maybe one more thing, though."
I raised a brow. "What?"
"Someday," he said, gaze softening, "when everything's really settled… I want to stand under that mango tree again. With you. Not because of ghosts or goodbyes. Just because."
My chest ached in the best way. "We can do that," I said. "That's easy."
He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. "With you, yeah. Everything's easier."
We went back inside when the air got colder, curling up on the couch with a shared blanket and a random movie we barely watched. His head rested on my shoulder, my fingers traced absent shapes on his arm, and the world outside could have disappeared and I wouldn't have cared.
As his breathing evened out, half asleep against me, I glanced at the bracelet on his wrist and the photo of us as kids on the coffee table.
Past, present, future — somehow, we'd stitched them together.
And for the first time, the next chapter of our lives didn't feel scary.
It just felt waiting.