Jay's POV :
Edrix and I somehow managed to carry him inside.
I don't even remember how.
All I remember is his weight against me… heavier than usual… lifeless.
We laid him down on the couch.
"Keifer… Keifer…" I whispered, shaking him gently.
No response.
My chest tightened.
I ran to the kitchen, almost slipping on the tiles, grabbed a glass of water, and rushed back.
My hands were trembling as I sprinkled water on his face.
"Wake up… please wake up…"
Nothing.
Not even a flinch.
My breathing turned uneven.
I looked up at Edrix desperately.
He was already on the phone.
"Yes, doctor ...."
I dropped beside Keifer again and lifted his head slightly onto my lap.
"Keifer… open your eyes," I whispered, my voice breaking. "This isn't funny anymore."
Why does he never listen?
Why does he always act like he's invincible?
Anger and fear were fighting inside me.
Tears welled up despite me trying to stay composed.
I brushed his hair back from his forehead.
His skin felt warm.
Too warm.
"This is your fault," I muttered under my breath. "You dramatic idiot… who asked you to come here?"
But my fingers tightened around him.
Because if anything happened to him—
I wouldn't survive it.
Edrix ended the call.
"The doctor said he probably strained the stitches and his body's still extremely weak," he said quickly. "We need to take him back. Now."
Back to the hospital.
My throat felt tight.
He came here… just to see me.
And now—
He was unconscious on my couch.
"Edrix… wait," I said quickly, tightening my hold around Keifer.
He looked at me, confused. "We need to take him back—"
"No." My voice was shaking, but firm. "It's better if we don't move him too much. What if his stitches tear more?"
I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself.
"Call the doctor here."
Edrix hesitated for a second.
"Jay—"
"Please," I whispered, my voice breaking now. "Just call him here."
Keifer shifted slightly in my lap, a faint groan escaping his lips.
My heart almost stopped.
I immediately leaned down closer to him.
"Shh… don't move," I murmured, brushing his hair back gently. "You're not allowed to move anymore. You've done enough drama for one night."
My tears fell before I could stop them.
Stupid.
Why does he always make me this weak?
Edrix stepped aside and dialed again, explaining the situation more urgently this time.
I kept one hand supporting Keifer's head and the other gripping his shirt like if I let go, he'd disappear.
"Keifer…" I whispered softly, my forehead almost touching his. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to scare me like this and then sleep peacefully."
His breathing was uneven.
But he was breathing.
Thank God.
I wiped my tears quickly.
If he wakes up and sees me crying, I'll never hear the end of it.
"Idiot," I muttered under my breath. "King of snakes… couldn't just wait two days in the hospital, huh?"
But my thumb kept tracing small circles near his temple unconsciously.
Because no matter how angry I was…
I was terrified.
The doctor arrived within minutes.
Those were the longest minutes of my life.
I stayed beside Keifer the entire time while the doctor examined him. Turns out the genius had strained his stitches. They had to stitch the wound again.
Again.
I stood there watching, my hands cold, my heart still racing.
He was still unconscious.
But stable.
Stable.
That word alone made me breathe properly for the first time since I saw him collapse.
"There's nothing to worry about," the doctor finally said. "He just needs complete rest. No unnecessary movement. Only for basic needs. If he moves too much again, it will worsen."
I nodded quickly.
"Yes, doctor."
I swear if this snake moves even one centimeter unnecessarily, I'll personally tie him to the bed.
After everything was settled, we laid him down in my room.
On my bed.
The irony.
Of all places.
Thankfully, Kuya Angelo wasn't home.
Neither were Aries or Tita Gema.
If they were here, I would've had to explain why an injured, stubborn Watson discharged himself early and collapsed dramatically in front of our house.
And I am not mentally prepared for that interrogation.
Edrix helped adjust him properly on the bed.
He looked… peaceful again.
Too peaceful.
I stood there for a moment just staring at him.
Why are you like this?
Why can't you ever do anything normally?
You couldn't just text.
You couldn't just wait.
You had to show up. Collapse. Get stitched again. And now you're in my room.
Unbelievable.
I crossed my arms.
But my eyes softened without my permission.
He came here injured.
Knowing I might not even come down.
Idiot. Complete idiot.
Edrix walked toward the door. "Call me if anything happens."
I nodded.
When the door closed and it was just me and him…
The room felt quiet.
Too quiet.
I didn't sit on the bed with him.
I couldn't.
But I also couldn't leave him alone.
So I pulled my study chair beside the bed and sat there, elbows on my knees, just… watching him.
"You better not move," I muttered softly. "You've already done enough hero entries for one night."
But my hand still reached out unconsciously… brushing his hair away from his forehead.
He didn't deserve my panic.
He didn't deserve my tears.
But here I was. Still here.
Hours passed.
The room was quiet except for the soft ticking of the clock and his steady breathing.
He didn't move.
Didn't wake up.
Didn't even twitch.
And I hated how that scared me.
Around 2 a.m., I was half asleep in the chair when I heard it—
A faint, painful groan.
My head snapped up.
He stirred slightly, eyebrows furrowing.
Slowly… very slowly… his eyes fluttered open.
They were unfocused. Heavy.
He blinked once. Twice.
Then in the weakest voice I've ever heard from him, he muttered,
"…w-water…"
For a second I just stared at him.
Because he was awake.
He was awake.
I immediately stood up, almost knocking the chair back.
"Don't move," I said quickly, my voice coming out more worried than angry.
I grabbed the glass of water from my desk and supported his head gently, sliding my hand behind his neck.
"Slowly," I whispered.
I brought the glass to his lips, tilting it carefully.
He drank like he hadn't in days.
His fingers weakly lifted, brushing against my wrist for balance.
The touch was light.
But it felt heavy.
After a few sips, he winced slightly.
"Enough," I said softly, pulling the glass away.
He blinked at me, vision clearing little by little.
Then he looked around.
Then at me.
Even in that weak state, there was that stupid familiar look in his eyes.
"…why are you here?" he whispered.
I crossed my arms immediately, masking everything.
"Excuse me? This is my room."
He stared at me for a long second.
"…oh."
I rolled my eyes.
"Don't get comfortable. You're only here because you can't follow basic medical instructions."
He tried to smirk.
Bad idea.
A sharp breath escaped him and his hand instinctively went to his side.
"See?" I snapped. "Doctor said don't move. And what do you do? Move."
He looked at me again.
Not teasing this time.
Just… looking.
"…you stayed?" he asked quietly.
I scoffed.
"Obviously not. I hired a ghost to watch you."
Keifer's POV
I woke up to pain.
Not the sharp kind.
The heavy, numb kind that sits in your bones and reminds you that you're very much alive.
My head felt foggy. My side felt like it had been torn open all over again.
For a second, I didn't even know where I was.
Everything was blurry.
The ceiling above me wasn't the hospital ceiling.
The room smelled different.
Familiar.
Soft.
I tried to shift slightly—
Bad idea.
Pain rushed through my side instantly, forcing a quiet breath out of me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to let it pass.
My throat felt like sand.
Dry.
Burning.
I swallowed, but it only made it worse.
God.
Why am I this thirsty?
Slowly, I forced my eyes open again.
The room came into focus bit by bit.
A desk.
Curtains.
A shelf.
This wasn't my room.
Then I turned my head slightly—
And I saw her.
Jay.
Sitting on a chair beside the bed.
Not asleep.
Not relaxed.
Just… there.
Watching.
For a second, I thought I was hallucinating.
Because why would she—
My throat burned again.
I tried to speak.
It came out barely a whisper.
"…w-water…"
My voice didn't even sound like mine.
She reacted instantly.
Chair scraping.
Footsteps.
"Don't move," she said quickly.
That tone.
Bossy.
Worried.
I felt her hand slide behind my neck, supporting my head carefully.
Her touch was gentle.
Too gentle.
The glass touched my lips and I drank slowly, every swallow easing the dryness.
Her fingers brushed my wrist as she steadied the glass.
Even in this condition…
I noticed that.
After a few sips, pain stabbed at my side again.
I inhaled sharply.
"Enough," she said softly, pulling the glass away before I could protest.
My vision cleared more.
And I finally looked at her properly.
She looked exhausted.
Eyes slightly red.
Hair messy.
Still stubborn.
"…why are you here?" I muttered weakly, because my brain hadn't caught up yet.
She crossed her arms immediately.
"Excuse me? This is my room."
Oh.
I blinked.
Her room.
I looked around again.
Yeah.
Definitely her room.
Wait.
That means—
"…you stayed?" I asked quietly.
She rolled her eyes.
"Obviously not. I hired a ghost to watch you."
Even like this…
She was still fighting.
But she didn't move away.
She didn't pull the chair back.
She was close enough that I could see the way her fingers were still slightly trembling.
She thinks I don't notice.
I do.
I always do.
My side throbbed again, reminding me I probably shouldn't be smirking.
But I couldn't help it.
Because out of all the places I could've woken up…
I woke up here.
In her room.
With her sitting beside me.
And somehow…
That hurt less than the stitches..
We stayed quiet for a while after that.
The room felt still. Too still.
I could hear the clock ticking.
I could hear her breathing.
I could feel my heartbeat in my stitches.
But the pain wasn't as bad anymore.
Not compared to the silence.
I swallowed.
"I—… I'm sorry, Jay."
The words felt unfamiliar in my mouth.
She looked at me.
Really looked at me.
And then she stood up from the chair.
Panic shot through me faster than the pain ever did.
I reached out without thinking and caught her wrist.
She froze.
But she didn't turn toward me.
Her back was stiff. Shoulders tight.
"Jay… please," I said softly. "Look at me."
Nothing.
She stayed facing away.
Her wrist felt small in my hand.
Warm.
"Please, Jay."
This time… she turned.
And my breath hitched.
Her eyes were glossy.
Tears sitting there, refusing to fall.
That hurt more than the wound tearing open earlier.
Because I did that.
I made her cry.
I pushed myself up instinctively, ignoring the warning pain in my side.
But before I could move much, her hand slammed gently but firmly against my chest, forcing me back onto the bed.
"Don't you dare," she said, her voice low and dangerous.
That look in her eyes—
Threatening.
Shaking.
Scared.
"Are you insane?" she snapped softly. "The doctor said don't move. And what do you do? Try to sit up like a hero?"
I stared at her.
Not scared of her anger.
Scared of the tears she was trying so hard to hold back.
"I'm fine—"
"You are not fine," she cut in immediately.
Her fingers were still pressed against my chest, keeping me down.
"And if you rip those stitches again, I swear I will stitch you myself."
Despite everything…
I almost smiled.
But her voice cracked slightly at the end.
And that smile died in my throat.
"Why did you discharge yourself?" she asked, barely above a whisper now.
I didn't answer.
Because the real answer sounded stupid.
Because I couldn't stay there knowing she was upset.
Because I couldn't breathe properly thinking she was mad at me.
Because I'd rather tear my wound open than let her walk away.
But instead I said quietly,
"I didn't want to stay there."
She laughed bitterly.
"Oh wow. Amazing logic. Let's almost bleed out because the hospital is boring."
"Jay—"
"You scared me," she whispered suddenly.
And that was it.
That was the crack.
Her hand loosened slightly against my chest.
"You scared me," she repeated, eyes shining now. "You think this is a joke? You think I can just— just—"
Her voice failed her.
I reached up slowly this time.
Carefully.
Not sitting up.
Just lifting my hand.
I brushed my thumb lightly against her wrist.
"I'm sorry," I said again. Not joking. Not teasing.
Real.
She looked at me.
And I swear I would take that pain a thousand times if it meant she'd never look at me like that again.
"I didn't mean to scare you."
Silence again.
But this one wasn't cold.
It was fragile.
She didn't pull her hand away.
She was still standing there, too close, too tense.
Her fingers hadn't fully left my chest yet.
"Please…" I said quietly.
She narrowed her eyes immediately.
"What now?"
"I want to sit up."
Her expression darkened.
"No."
I exhaled slowly. Of course.
"You won't let me do it myself," I muttered weakly. "So just… help me sit up."
She stared at me like I'd just asked her to let me jump off a building.
"Keifer."
"I won't move too much," I said quickly. "I promise. I just— I can't keep lying flat. It hurts."
That part wasn't entirely a lie.
Lying down made me feel helpless.
And I hated feeling helpless in front of her.
She looked unconvinced.
"You try anything stupid," she warned, pointing a finger at me, "and I'm calling the doctor back to sedate you."
Despite everything, that almost made me smile.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Stop being sarcastic."
"I'm not."
She rolled her eyes but moved anyway.
Carefully, she slid one arm behind my back, the other adjusting the pillow.
"Slowly," she instructed.
Her voice was still shaky.
I tried to lift myself slightly, but pain immediately flared across my side.
A sharp breath escaped me.
Her grip tightened instantly.
"See?!" she snapped. "You can't even breathe properly and you want to sit up!"
"I'm fine," I muttered through my teeth.
"You are not fine."
But she didn't let go.
Instead, she supported more of my weight, gently easing me up inch by inch until I was half-sitting against the headboard.
It hurt.
But not unbearable.
Once I was settled, she adjusted the pillow behind me again, making sure I wasn't straining.
Her face was close now.
Close enough that I could see the faint tear tracks she hadn't wiped properly.
Close enough that I could see how tired she looked.
"All good?" she asked finally, still suspicious.
I nodded slightly.
"Yeah."
She stepped back, crossing her arms again like she hadn't just held me up five seconds ago.
"You're unbelievable," she muttered.
I looked at her for a moment.
"You're still crying," I said softly.
She stiffened immediately.
"I am not."
"You are."
She turned away quickly.
"It's late. You're hallucinating."
I watched her back.
And something in my chest hurt worse than the stitches again.
Not from pain.
From knowing she'd rather fight me than let me see how much she cares.
"Jay," I said quietly.
She didn't turn.
"Thank you."
That made her freeze.
Just slightly.
"Can we talk?" I asked quietly. "Please… I need to explain."
She looked at me like I had just committed another crime.
"Explain?" she repeated, her voice sharp. "Explain what? I don't need any justifications. I don't want other lies—"
She stopped herself.
I saw it.
The way her chest rose sharply.
The way she inhaled like she was physically holding the rest of her words back.
I lowered my gaze.
"I know it's hard," I said softly. "But whatever you know… it's just half of the truth."
Silence.
"Please," I whispered. "Let me explain."
She shook her head immediately.
"Keifer, I don't want to."
Her voice wasn't angry anymore.
It was trembling.
"Please just stop it. I—" she swallowed. "I don't want you to strain yourself right now."
That wasn't the real reason.
We both knew that.
"And also I—" her voice cracked slightly. "I'm not ready for it yet."
I looked up at her.
She wasn't looking at me.
She was staring at the floor like it was safer than meeting my eyes.
"I'm… I'm scared, okay?" she admitted quietly.
That hit harder than anything else tonight.
Scared.
Jay doesn't say she's scared.
She fights.
She mocks.
She argues.
She doesn't admit fear.
"Scared of what?" I asked gently.
She laughed once, but it wasn't real.
"Of hearing something that'll make it worse."
Her fingers were clenched at her sides.
"Of believing you again."
There it was.
The real wound.
Not the stitches.
Not the blood.
Trust.
"I don't know if I can handle that right now," she said
"Jay," I said softly.
She shook her head again.
"Not tonight," she said, almost pleading now. "Please. Just… not tonight."
I nodded slowly.
"Okay," I said quietly. "Not tonight."
Her shoulders relaxed just a little.
But she still looked fragile.
She forced me to lie back down like I was a reckless child.
"Sleep," she ordered.
I wanted to argue.
I didn't.
Maybe because I was tired.
Maybe because when she says something in that tone… I listen.
And somehow, I slept.
The next morning, Edrix helped me back to the mansion.
I swear I didn't want to leave her room.
Didn't want to leave her.
But she was adamant.
Cold. Firm.
So I had to.
And the moment I reached home, it got worse.
My brothers practically threatened me.
Section E wouldn't stop calling.
Even the doctor made it very clear—
"Four to five days. Complete bed rest. If you want to heal fast, don't move."
So I didn't.
I stayed in bed.
Like they wanted.
But every single day, I had someone come over and update me.
"What's Jay doing?"
"How was she in class?"
"Anyone bothering her?"
I made it sound casual.
It wasn't.
I texted her.
Called her.
No reply.
Or one-word replies.
Dry.
Stubborn.
Still angry.
And somehow… that hurt more than the stitches pulling every time I shifted.
Jay's POV
We went to school daily like nothing had happened.
Everyone was there.
Except Keifer.
But he wasn't there for a month when he was in London anyway.
So technically…
It shouldn't have felt different.
But it did.
And that annoyed me.
Because the fact that he was in the Philippines and still not here was making me impatient.
What was he saying about explaining things?
What "half truth" was he talking about?
Ugh.
Forget it.
Probably another well-crafted story.
Another lie.
Another manipulation.
I'm not falling for that again.
Never.
But…
Why does it feel so off?
His eyes.
I know his eyes.
No matter how much I try to deny it.
I saw it that night.
That wasn't acting.
Those emotions?
They were real.
He looked sad.
Not the dramatic kind.
Not the playful wounded ego kind.
Deeply sad.
It was like the charm he used to carry in his eyes had disappeared in just one month.
Like something heavy had settled there.
What happened in London?
What is going on in his mind?
I sighed, frustrated with myself.
Should I… hear him out once?
Just once?
No.
That's how it starts.
That's how I get pulled back in.
But what if—
No.
Stop.
I shook my head.
And yet…
For the first time since he came back…
I wasn't angry.
I was confused.
And maybe…
A little scared of what the truth might actually be.
Keifer's POV
Five. Damn. Days.
Five days of staring at the ceiling.
Five days of medicine, lectures, and threats.
Five days of overthinking.
But today?
Today I was finally allowed to get out of that bed.
The doctor checked my stitches in the morning.
"They're healing well," he said. "But don't do anything stupid."
I almost laughed.
Define stupid.
Edrix crossed his arms. "You're still not fully healed."
"I know."
My brothers gave me that warning look.
The one that says we're watching you.
I ignored it.
Because today wasn't about the wound.
It was about her.
I stood in front of the mirror after getting dressed.
The scar still pulled slightly when I moved.
But it was manageable.
What wasn't manageable?
Five days of silence from Jay.
Five days of dry replies.
Five days of her avoiding every call.
I clenched my jaw slightly.
She's scared.
I know she is.
And I don't blame her.
But I'm done letting misunderstandings grow like poison between us.
Today, I'm going back to school.
And today, she's going to listen to me.
Not because I'll force her.
But because I won't let her run this time.
I grabbed my phone.
No new message from her.
Of course.
Fine.
If she won't reply to my texts…
She can face me in person.
And I swear—
No ego. No games. No half sentences.
I'll tell her everything.
Even if it costs me whatever dignity I have left.
Because losing pride is easier than losing her.
Jay's POV
I went to school like usual.
Same routine. Same hallway. Same noise.
But something felt… off.
People were looking at me.
Not in the usual gossip way.
It was different.
Some looked… excited.
Some looked concerned.
Some were trying way too hard not to smile.
What?
I was too sleepy and mentally drained to care.
I barely slept last night.
And I definitely wasn't in the mood for drama.
I entered the classroom without looking around much and went straight to my usual seat — between David and Ci-n.
David gave me a look.
Ci-n looked like he was holding something in.
"What?" I muttered, dropping my bag.
"Nothing," they both said too quickly.
Suspicious.
Before I could question them further, Sir Alvin walked in.
We all stood up.
"Good morning, Sir."
"Good morning. Sit down," he replied.
He opened his attendance sheet.
"John Felix Colins."
"Present, sir."
"Cinco-Neith Peralta."
"Present."
My head was resting lightly on my hand as he continued calling names.
The room felt unusually quiet.
Too quiet.
Why does it feel like something's about to happen?
"Mark keifer watson..."
Then—
"Present sir..."
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(4000 words)