Chapter Text
Aiah’s Point of View
"Two years na, Aiah. Limang taon mo ng kaibigan tapos two years mo nang gusto. Hindi ka pa rin nagsasawa magpaka-martyr?"
Stacey’s voice sliced through my morning peace like a knife, loud and unfiltered as always.
I was quietly scrolling through my notes while waiting for Mikha to come back from buying her usual iced chocolate.
Our spot by the shaded bench near the college garden was calm, breezy—until Stacey and Maloi showed up with no regard for volume control.
I sighed, not even looking up from my phone.
"Can we not start the day with a full-blown intervention?"
Maloi flopped onto the bench beside me and leaned in dramatically, voice lowered but still teasing. "Hindi na nga intervention 'to, eh. Funeral na. Pinaglalamayan na namin ang love life mong hindi umaabante."
Stacey snorted. "Oo nga. Araw-araw kang kasama ni Mikha pero hanggang ngayon, ni 'I like you' wala ka pang nasasabi. Gusto mo ba talaga siya or hobby mo lang 'tong self-sabotage?"
I finally looked up and glared at both of them. "I like breathing, you know. And confessing would ruin everything. I’m not about to throw away five years of friendship just to make it awkward."
"But you already make it awkward—with your eyes," Maloi deadpanned, mimicking my supposed lovesick stare. "'Oh Mikha, let me carry your bag. Oh Mikha, you dropped a pen, let me frame it. Oh Mikha, I memorized the exact shade of your lip balm.'"
"Shut up," I muttered, but my ears were already burning.
They laughed.
And right on cue—because of course the universe loves playing with me—Mikha came skipping back toward us with her iced chocolate in one hand and a big, innocent smile on her face.
Her hair was up in a high ponytail today, and she was wearing her oversized cream hoodie that nearly swallowed her whole.
I was convinced she could’ve murdered someone and still looked like a cartoon character saying sorry with sparkles in her eyes.
"Guys, ang init! The line sa café was so long pero I got you this!"
She handed me a second drink.
Cold brew. My favorite.
I blinked. "You bought me coffee?"
She nodded enthusiastically. "Para sa ‘best friend’ ko."
There it was. The F-word.
Best. Friend.
I bit back the way my heart did a little jump and die routine and smiled like a normal, non-suffering human.
"Thanks, Mikha."
She plopped down beside me and leaned her head on my shoulder with a little sigh, completely unaware that I had just ascended and died three different times.
"I swear this week’s draining me. Do we really have to go to that org meeting later? Colet and Jhoanna are making me go but I just wanna nap in the library."
"You always wanna nap in the library," I teased, careful to keep my voice light.
"And you always let me," she said proudly. "Kasi you love me, diba?"
I froze.
Then she looked up, laughing. "As a friend, of course!"
Yeah. Of course.
Behind her, Stacey silently mouthed ’lagot ka’ and bit back a grin.
I took a long sip of my coffee like it could save me from combusting.
An hour later, we were sitting inside the student council office-slash-org room, aka the least ventilated room on campus.
Colet was babbling about logistics for an upcoming campus fair, Jhoanna was fixing the giveaways, and Mikha was beside me doodling little stars in the margin of her notebook.
She tapped me with her pen.
“Do you think stars are romantic?”
“Huh?”
“Like, in real life. Kasi sa movies lagi silang ginagamit in love confessions. Do you think it actually works? Confessing under the stars?”
I blinked. “Are you… planning something?”
Mikha laughed. “Wala lang. Curious lang! Maybe someday, I want mine to be like that.”
Mine. As in her future someone.
I swallowed. “Yeah. It’s cute. Romantic.”
She smiled and went back to her doodles like she hadn’t just indirectly stabbed me with a shooting star.
Later that afternoon, I was walking her to her next class. Something I always did even if it wasn’t in my route. I mean, who wouldn’t walk Mikha Lim to her next class? She never asked me to. She just got used to it, like brushing her hair or carrying her emotional support stuffed penguin in her bag.
“I’m so sleepy,” she yawned. “Can I just skip?”
“Attendance,” I reminded her.
“Ugh. You sound like my mom.”
I grinned. “Glad I could fill the role.”
She stopped suddenly, turning to face me. “Hey, Aiah?”
My breath hitched. “Yeah?”
Her face was serious for once. She stepped closer. “Can I… ask something kinda weird?”
My mind was already spiraling. Was she going to ask me if I liked her? If I thought of her as more than a friend? If I—
“Do you think penguins have knees?”
I blinked. “What.”
She blinked back. “I mean. I googled it before but I still don’t get how they bend their legs.”
I stared at her for a long second, then started laughing. Loud and full.
“That’s your weird question?”
“Yes!” she giggled. “I was just randomly thinking about it kanina sa org room.”
“God, Mikha,” I chuckled, shaking my head as I walked her to the building steps. “You’re so—”
So adorable. So ridiculous. So perfect.
But I said, “So weird.”
She pouted. “You like me weird.”
Too much.
When she finally entered her classroom, I stood there for a few seconds just… catching my breath. Like always.
“Stop looking like a kicked puppy.”
There was Stacey again, appearing out of nowhere.
“You’re like a ghost,” I muttered.
“More like your conscience,” she quipped, falling into step beside me. “One day, you’re gonna have to tell her.”
“She wants to be confessed to under the stars,” I replied flatly. “Do I look like a constellation?”
Stacey shrugged. “Then fake a blackout and bring fairy lights. I don’t care. Just say something before someone else does.”
I paused.
Because that? That part? That’s what keeps me up at night.
Because even if she’s clueless now, someday someone else is going to see Mikha Lim the way I do—and what if that person’s braver?
What if he doesn’t wait two years?
And what if she falls?
Not into my arms, but his.
What if… I waited too long?
—
It started with a ping.
Actually—no. That’s a lie.
It started with me rereading our last chat for the fourth time like an idiot. Then the ping happened, and I nearly threw my phone across the room.
Meka Lem:
Aiahhh:(
My heartbeat? Immediate disaster mode.
I sat up straighter on my bed like she could somehow see me from the other side of the phone screen.
My dorm room was dim except for the warm desk lamp glowing beside my untouched notes. Midterms were coming up, but Mikha messaging me? That always took priority.
Meka Lem:
Are you busy? :(Me:
Kinda reviewing… why? What’s up?
She was typing. Mikha is typing…
Then it stopped.
Then it came back.
Then stopped again.
I was practically holding my breath. Girl, just say it. Say you need me. Say you wanna elope. I’ll pack.
Finally—
Meka Lem: I need help with stats 🥲
Oh.
Of course.
I exhaled and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Stats. It’s always stats.
Still, I smiled. Because even if it was just math, she needed me. She chose me.
Me:
Send the problems. Let’s suffer together.
She replied instantly.
Meka Lem:
Yay!! 🐧 ily aiah u da best.Me:
Penguin emoji? Really?Meka Lem:
He’s cute and round like you 😚
I froze.
Paused.
Read it again.
Cute. And round. LIKE ME?
WHAT.
THE.
HELL.
I stared at my phone like it personally betrayed me.
Round?
Excuse me?
Me:
…round???Meka Lem:
Not like… bad round!! You know!! Fluffy energy!! Like soft!! Not literal!! I mean you’re not round?? You’re—uhm—warm? Like comforting?? Not like a rice ball idk STOP 😭
I actually burst out laughing.
Out loud. Hand over my mouth. Laughing like a maniac.
Oh my God. She was panicking. I could picture her typing in a frenzy, her face flushed and her bangs flying everywhere as she scrambled to explain herself.
Fluffy energy.
Mikha Lim just described me as having fluffy energy.
That’s it. I’m dead. Bury me.
Me:
You’re lucky you’re cute.Meka Lem:
stopppMe:
No. I won’t. You deserve it.
There was a pause. No typing bubble.
I sat there in silence, heart thudding.
Too much?
But then—
Meka Lem:
You’re also cute tho 🙈
OH?
OH?
HELLO???
I had to close my eyes. I couldn’t breathe. I was literally clutching my pillow like it held my sanity.
I paced my room.
Pacing.
Literal pacing. Like some cliché K-drama male lead going,
"What does this mean? What do I say next?!"
Because what the hell do you say when the girl you’ve been secretly in love with for two years suddenly calls you cute too?
I sat back down, took a breath, and reminded myself of the golden rule:
Mikha says sweet things all the time. It doesn’t mean anything.
She calls Jhoanna “baby” during karaoke nights. She kisses Colet’s cheek when they’re drunk. She once held Maloi’s hand during a horror movie and didn’t even blink.
So no, Aiah. Do not read into this.
Even if your heart is flipping like a damn pancake.
Me:
Wow. Coming from Miss Strawberry Shortcake herself.Meka Lem:
That’s not even an insult I love it 🥰
She sent a selfie.
Just like that.
Mikha Lim. Sent. A. Selfie.
Her messy bun had mostly fallen out, she had her glasses on (the big round ones I secretly loved), and she was hugging a penguin plushie while pouting.
Pouting.
With fluffy energy, apparently.
I stared at the photo so long my phone dimmed.
Me:
Okay I take it back. You’re the fluffiest one here.Meka Lem:
NOOOMeka Lem:
You areeeMe:
I’m literally going to lose my mind, Mikha.
It slipped.
I typed it before I could stop myself.
Silence again.
Typing bubble.
Gone.
Typing again.
Oh God.
Meka Lem:
Why?? :((
I threw my head back dramatically.
Why?
Why, she says.
Because you’re adorable.
Because you keep making my chest tighten like it’s the last scene of a romance movie.
Because every little message you send makes me feel like I’m sixteen and in love for the first time.
Because you have no idea that you’ve been holding my heart since orientation day.
But of course I typed:
Me:
Because you say things like that and expect me to survive.Meka Lem:
Is it bad 😭Me:
No. It’s you. It’s always you.
I immediately wanted to take it back. That was too much. Too real.
But she didn’t question it.
Meka Lem:
Awww:( ilysm talaga, Aiah. I’m so lucky you’re my best friend.
And just like that, I got punched straight back into reality.
Best friend.
There it was again.
That little label that tasted sweet and sour all at once.
I didn’t reply right away. Just stared at her message, a soft ache blooming in my chest. Some twisted mix of joy and pain.
Because yeah, she said ily.
But it was the safe kind. The innocent kind. The kind that ended with emojis and hugs and absolutely no idea how badly I wanted her to mean it differently.
Finally, I replied.
Me:
Always, Mikha.
Always your best friend.
Always the one you come to at 8:41 PM for stats help and emotional comfort.
Always the one who walks you home and listens to your day and memorizes your coffee orders and saves your selfies in a hidden album called don’t-be-weird.jpg.
Always.
Even if I’m screaming inside.
Even if I never get to be anything more.
I locked my phone and fell backward onto my bed.
Then immediately opened it again just to look at her selfie one more time.
Yeah.
I’m not surviving this semester.