Chapter Text
The day started the same way it always did: with Park Han finding a way to ruin JL’s morning in every way he knows.
“Gaspar, negative dapat yan.”
JL’s chalk squeaked against the board. He froze, shoulders tensing. The class chuckled immediately, everyone recognizing that tone. Casual, a little smug, like Han lived to correct him.
JL spun around. “Han, shut the hell up! Hindi ikaw ang teacher dito!”
Han leaned back in his chair, pen twirling lazily between his fingers. “Just saving you from zero points.”
JL’s ears burned. “Tangina, kaya kong mag-solve mag-isa!”
“Then why do you keep messing up?”
The class roared. JL wanted to smash the chalkboard in half.
Behind him, his barkada were already making noise.
“Aray ko,” Woongki muttered ala malupiton style, clutching his chest like it was him who got hit.
“Vebs, kalma,” Juwon said, grinning like a devil. “Pumupula ka na naman na para bang fully riped tomato ka na.”
Daisuke, voice even as ever: “Just fix it kuya so we can move on.”
“Hay naku,” Shuaibo added, “eto na naman sila. Di na kayo nag sawa mag landian through pikunan no?”
JL scribbled furiously on the board, jaw locked. He didn’t need to look to know Han was still watching him.
Across the room, Han’s own barkada was whispering too.
“Gago, ang saya mo na naman,” Jeongwoo said.
Steven smirked. “Han’s hobby, apparently.”
Chihen didn’t look up from his phone. “It’s not going to end well.”
Han just let a small smile play at the corner of his mouth.
---
By dismissal, JL was done. He stomped out of the room, his friends trailing after him, still laughing.
“Mga beh, I swear, balang araw masusuntok ko ‘yun,” JL muttered.
Woongki threw an arm around his shoulders. “Tara, I-video natin pag nangyari para may remembrance.”
"Tama! Malay mo mag viral pa tayo eh di easy monetized agad!" Shuaibo butter in seemingly excited by the thought of extra cash.
“Gago,” JL shoved him off.
“Bakit ba? Nakakakilig naman minsan,” Juwon teased.
“Yuck!! Kadiri ka, Juwon!” JL barked, face heating.
The hallway was alive with noise, lockers slamming, laughter echoing, shoes squeaking against the polished floor. A thousand little sounds blending into one big hum. JL tried to drown it out, but irritation still bubbled in his chest. Every smirk, every correction, every “Gaspar” Han ever threw at him it all played on loop in his head.
He hated that voice.
He hated that tone.
And maybe, just maybe, he hated that he’d started waiting for it.
And then, right on cue—
“Gaspar.”
The name sliced through the crowd. JL’s whole body went rigid. His friends groaned in sync.
“Ayan na naman,” Woongki whispered, half amused, half exasperated.
On the far end of the hall, Han stood with his barkada, bag slung carelessly over one shoulder, smile soft but smug. That calm confidence again—like the world tilted just a little in his favor.
“Good luck sa quiz next week.”
JL’s eyes narrowed. “Good luck daw? Ikaw?!”
Han shrugged, lips twitching. “What’s wrong with wishing you luck?”
“You don’t do that. Ever. Laging may banat.”
Han tilted his head, smirk deepening. “Maybe this is the banat.” And jokingly blew a flying kiss at JL.
“PUTANGINA—” JL lunged, but Woongki and Juwon pulled him back by the elbows.
Steven rolled his eyes. “Here we go again.”
“Bro, pustahan mag aaminan din kayo one of these days,” Jeongwoo said, grinning.
Chihen finally looked up. “Annoying.”
For a second, Han almost laughed again—almost. But then he noticed it.
A flash of water on the tiles. A glint of something slick near the staircase.
The janitor’s cart—tipped on its side, mop rolling away, bucket overturned.
His smile faded instantly.
“Wait—!”
But JL was already storming forward, still fuming, eyes locked on Han. He didn’t see the puddle stretching across the floor like a thin sheet of glass.
Han didn’t think. He just moved.
“JL saglit—!”
He lunged, grabbing JL by the arm, yanking him back just as his foot hit the water.
There was a sharp skid, a shout—then the sound of something heavy slamming against the ground.
The world blurred for a second.
JL stumbled, caught off guard, and looked down. Han was sprawled on the floor, the side of his head hitting the edge of the lower step. Water spread under him, streaked with chalk dust and the faint smell of disinfectant.
Everything went still.
“Han?!” JL’s voice cracked.
Woongki and the others froze. Even Han’s barkada stopped mid-laugh, faces draining of color.
For the first time all day, JL’s chest wasn’t burning from anger—
but from the cold, sinking terror of seeing Han not move.
Students screamed.
“Shit!”
“Call a teacher!”
“Han!”
JL’s stomach dropped. His legs moved on instinct, shoving through the crowd until he was kneeling by Han’s side.
Han’s eyes were closed, skin pale, lips slack.
“Han!” JL shook his shoulder, voice breaking. “Hoy, wag kang mag-joke ng ganito!”
Steven dropped beside them, voice tight. “Gaspar, move. Give him air.”
Jeongwoo’s hands hovered uselessly. “Bro, please, gumising ka!”
Chihen already had his phone out, voice clipped. “Ambulance. Main hall. Hurry.”
JL’s barkada arrived seconds later, skidding to a stop.
“JL,” Woongki whispered, face drained. “Holy shit.”
“He’s still breathing,” Juwon said quickly, kneeling to check.
“Kuya,” Daisuke muttered, steady but urgent, “don’t lose it.”
Shuaibo’s hands shook.
JL could barely breathe. The smirk, the teasing—gone. For the first time since he’d known him, Park Han was terrifyingly still.
The sirens arrived. The chaos blurred. Teachers shouting, students whispering, stretcher wheels screeching on the tiles. JL found himself pushed outside, standing in the sun, hands sticky with sweat.
He kept whispering, voice rough. “Tangina, wag mong gawin ‘to, Han. Hindi ka pwedeng mawala.”
JL never forgot the sound.
It wasn’t the thud of Han’s body hitting the stairs. Not even the collective gasp that rippled through the crowd like a wave.
It was the sound of his own voice raw, desperate, screaming Han’s name as if that could stop gravity.
The hospital waiting area was cramped and noisy, the kind of place that smelled like rubbing alcohol and faint despair. Plastic chairs squeaked under the weight of anxious bodies.
JL sat hunched, elbows on his knees, hands pressed over his face. He rushed to the hospital as soon as he puleld himself together.
Shuaibo broke the silence first. “Yence… hindi mo yun kasalanan okay? Walang may gusto na mangyari yun kay Han."
JL’s laugh was harsh, humorless. “Really? Kasi pinigilan niyang mag walk-out ako. Kung hindi ko sana ginawa yun... Kung hindi lang sana ako pikon di sana—”
“Kung wala ka dun, baka walang tumawag ambulansya,” Daisuke interrupted firmly, voice level. “Stop blaming yourself.”
Woongki fidgeted, bouncing his leg. “Tangina, parang teleserye. What if next scene magkaron ng amnesia si Han??”
JL glared. “Tangina mo, wag kang mag-joke ngayon!”
But the word stuck in his head. Amnesia. Ridiculous. Over-the-top. Han would probably laugh in his face if he even thought about it.
JL pressed his hands harder against his face, wishing he could disappear.
When the nurse finally said visitors were allowed, both barkadas nearly stampeded through the hallway. They crowded outside the room, buzzing like flies, until Steven turned sharply and hissed, “Shut up. He needs rest.”
Inside, the room was quiet except for the steady beeping of a heart monitor. Han lay against the pillows, IV taped neatly to his hand, face still pale but breathing steady.
JL froze at the foot of the bed. His chest clenched. Guilt slowly penetrating his system.
For the first time since they’d met, Han looked… fragile.
He can't help himself but to blame himself. Because he knows that the reason why he's there bounded by those machines was because of him.
“Gising na siya?” Jeongwoo whispered, wide-eyed.
As if on cue, Han stirred. His eyelids fluttered, lashes brushing against his cheeks. A faint sound slipped from his throat.
Everyone held their breath.
Han blinked slowly, eyes adjusting to the fluorescent light. His brow furrowed, lips parting like he was piecing the world back together.
And then his gaze landed on JL.
JL stiffened, heart slamming against his ribs.
Han’s mouth curved into a small, relieved smile. “Babe, akala ko iniwan mo ako."
The silence that followed was deafening.
“Ano daw?!” Woongki screeched.
“Teka ang oa baka naman concerned lang siya?!” Juwon, nearly tripping over his chair.
Steven’s jaw dropped. “Did he just—”
Jeongwoo slapped his own face. “Bro, what the fuck.”
Even Chihen blinked, which for him was practically a full breakdown.
JL’s mouth worked uselessly, like a fish gasping on land. “A-Anong iniwan?! Bakit kita—”
But Han was still smiling, calm and certain, eyes fixed only on him. “You were trying to leave me diba? We were on the verge of breaking up? We had a small argument then I saw the water by the stairs. I was so scared I'd lose you. I was so scared that you'll get hurt, babe.”
JL felt his knees weaken. “H-ha??! What do you m-”
Han tilted his head, confused, like JL had just told him the sky wasn’t blue. “Huh? Ano ka ba. Don’t joke. You’re my—” He hesitated, but his voice softened, sure. “You’re my person.”
The room collectively imploded.
“PUTANGINA, HOY KAILAN PA KAYO NAGING MAGBOYFRIEND??!” Jeongwoo screamed.
“What the hell,” Steven added, half-laughing, half-horrified.
“Ilang chapters yung na skip ko?? ” Woongki muttered.
Juwon clutched his chest. “Kinilig ako, gago.”
Daisuke only sighed, adjusting his glasses. “Ang gulo jusko.”
JL, face crimson, exploded. “HOY TEKA, HINDI KITA JOWA, HAN! HINDI KITA JOWA!”
Han only frowned faintly, like JL was being unreasonable. “Gaspar… Are you ashamed of me? You’ve always been there for me. I know we always bicker and argue but that's just how we show our affection 'di ba? We've always been there for each other. At school, at the library we even eat at the cafeteria everyday together 'diba? Wala lang ba yun sayo? You're hurting me, babe.”
JL sputtered. “DAHIL WALA AKONG CHOICE! AYOKO SA’YO!”
But his voice cracked. And for some reason, Han only looked more certain.
As if in Han’s mind, JL wasn’t his rival.
He was home.
Now we’re inside Han’s POV:
He hated the brightness first. It stabbed behind his eyelids, disorienting, making his skull throb. Sounds came next—voices he half-recognized, fragments of names, tones, laughter.
He knew Steven’s steady presence, Jeongwoo’s loud sniffling, Chihen’s flat mutters. Familiar, grounding.
But his gaze slid past them.
Because there was one person clearer than anyone else.
Gaspar.
JL Gaspar, standing at the foot of his bed, tense and trembling, like the universe revolved around this moment.
Han didn’t remember everything perfectly. There were gaps, blurred edges. But Gaspar—he stood sharp, vivid, undeniable. Every memory of competitions, of late nights in the library, of cafeteria lunches—they stitched together in his mind like a pattern he suddenly understood.
Gaspar wasn’t his rival. Gaspar was his constant.
So when the words slipped out, they felt natural. Obvious. “Babe, akala ko iniwan mo ako.”
Because in Han’s fractured memory, JL Gaspar was the only one who never left.
JL opened his mouth, then closed it, fists balling at his sides. His barkada looked like they were about to combust from the sheer secondhand embarrassment. Han’s own friends stared at him like he’d sprouted wings.
But in the fog of his memory, one thing held true: if there was one constant in Park Han’s life, it was JL Gaspar. He didn’t remember all the details, not yet, but the feelings? The presence? That was undeniable.
Han gave him a small, lopsided smile, even as his head pounded. “You’re my person, di ba?”
And for the first time since the accident, JL didn’t have a ready insult on his tongue.
The room had emptied out.
After the explosion of voices, barkada protests, and one near fistfight (mostly because Woongki wouldn’t stop laughing), the nurse had shooed everyone out. “Ang iingay ninyo. Ospital to hindi palengke. Labas!”
So it was just JL now. Perched on the hard plastic chair beside the bed, arms crossed tight, trying to look anywhere but the boy lying down.
The boy who had just called him his person.
Han shifted against the pillows, watching him. “Tahimik ka. That’s new.”
JL snapped his head around, glaring. “You almost cracked your skull and tapos nagagawa mo pang mang-aasar?!”
Han’s smile was faint, tired. “So you do care.”
“Puta—” JL cut himself off, gripping the armrest so hard his knuckles went white. “Of course I care! Kung mamatay ka dito, baka ako pa sisihin ng lahat.”
Han tilted his head. “You’re yelling again.”
“Because you’re impossible.”
For a beat, silence. The monitor beeped steadily, the hum of fluorescent light filling the space.
Then Han’s voice, softer: “Pero nandito ka pa rin.”
JL’s breath hitched. He looked away quickly, eyes fixed on the curtain divider like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “I— sabi ni nurse Jamie someone had to stay.”
“Could’ve been Steven.”
“Steven went to buy food.”
“Jeongwoo?”
“Umiyak na kanina, sabi ng nurse magpahinga siya.”
“Chihen?”
“May kausap sa phone.”
“Your friends?”
JL groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Han, can you not make a roll call right now? Daig mo pa prof natin eh.”
Han chuckled, the sound weak but genuine. “So ikaw ang nagpaiwan.”
JL’s ears burned. “Shut up.”
Han let the silence stretch before murmuring, almost to himself, “I like it better this way.”
JL glanced at him then really looked. The smirk was gone, replaced by something raw, stripped down. Vulnerable.
And it unsettled him more than all the banter in the world.
“Han…” JL’s voice was low, uncertain. “Bakit mo… bakit mo sinabi kanina na—”
“That you’re my person?” Han supplied easily, eyes never leaving his.
JL’s mouth went dry.
Han’s gaze softened. “Kasi totoo. I don’t remember everything clearly yet, but you… I remember you. Palagi kang nandun. Palagi kitang kausap. Palagi kitang hinahanap. And I know deep within that you're someone special to me. May endearment pa nga tayo eh.”
JL’s chest squeezed, too tight. His tongue fumbled for an insult, something to push the weight away.
But nothing came.
Only silence.
And Han, watching him like he was the only solid thing in a world that had gone hazy.
The room felt too small.
JL shifted in his chair for the tenth time, arms crossed so tightly his muscles ached. He could hear every little sound: the steady beep of Han’s monitor, the distant squeak of shoes in the hallway, the faint buzz of the fluorescent light overhead.
Han’s breathing, too, slow, even, but always there, tugging at JL’s attention no matter how much he tried to look away.
“You can stop pretending,” Han said quietly, breaking the silence.
JL’s head snapped up. “Pretending what?”
“That you don’t want to be here.” Han’s gaze was steady, even if his body looked weak against the white sheets. “Kung ayaw mo, sana kanina ka pa umalis.”
JL scoffed, too quick, too defensive. “Please. Do you think I want to sit in a room with you? If I had a choice—”
“You do,” Han cut in. His voice was calm, almost gentle. “You could’ve left.”
JL faltered. His tongue tripped over a retort, but nothing came.
Han’s lips tugged into a tired smile. “But you didn’t.”
“Because—!” JL burst out, then stopped himself. His fists clenched on his knees. “Because someone had to make sure you don’t unplug yourself by accident, okay? Wag mong isipin na—na gusto kong nandito ako.”
Han chuckled softly, the sound scratching at JL’s defenses. “Kung yun ang dahilan, fine.” He paused, eyes narrowing playfully. “Pero mukha ka ngang guard dog dito, Gaspar.”
JL’s ears went red. “Guard dog ka dyan!”
Han tilted his head on the pillow, studying him. “Guard dog. Kasi kahit galit, nandyan pa rin. Kahit kumakagat, hindi umaalis.”
JL’s throat went dry. He forced a laugh, sharp and awkward. “Wow, congrats. Gumising ka lang, philosopher ka na.”
“Hindi ako nagbibiro,” Han murmured.
And JL hated it. The way the words landed heavier than they should, the way Han’s tone had shifted from teasing to something softer, something too real.
He cleared his throat and stood abruptly, pacing a little to shake off the weight in his chest. “Do you know how fucking stupid you looked kanina? Yung pagkahulog mo? Alam mo bang para kang tanga? May pa slow motion pa talaga!”
Han blinked, then let out a weak laugh. “So… napanood mo?”
“Of course I did, gago! You almost died in front of me! I saw how you slipped, saw how you hit your head on the stairs! I was so fucking scared I wasn't even able to blink. You...you-"
“But then you ran to me.”
JL froze mid-sentence, his breath catching.
Han’s eyes locked onto his, unwavering. “Gaspar. Out of everyone, ikaw yung unang tumakbo.”
JL swallowed hard. His chest felt too tight, his palms sweaty despite the aircon. He wanted to deny it, to throw another insult, to laugh it off—anything.
But he remembered it too vividly. His heart leaping to his throat, his legs moving before his brain caught up, the panic that ripped through him when Han hit the ground.
He looked away, muttering, “Don’t… don’t read too much into it.”
Han hummed softly, a smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t need to. I already know.”
JL whipped his head back, scowling. “Know what?”
“That you’re mine.”
The words hung in the air, simple and certain, like Han had just stated a fact.
JL’s mouth fell open. He sputtered, fists curling at his sides. “Tangina, ang kapal mo! You hit your head too hard, kaya ka nagkakaganito!”
But Han didn’t budge. His smile was soft, almost sleepy, but his eyes burned with quiet conviction.
“Maybe,” he admitted, voice lowering. “Pero kahit magulo yung iba… ikaw, malinaw.”
JL’s heart stuttered violently in his chest.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. He wanted to shake Han until that stupid smile fell off his face.
Instead, he sat back down heavily, burying his face in his hands. “I hate you,” he muttered, muffled against his palms.
Han chuckled, warm and fond. “Alam ko.”
JL peeked through his fingers, glaring at him. “Then why are you smiling like that?”
“Because you’re still here.”
JL groaned, dragging his hands down his face, but he couldn’t hide the way his ears burned red.
And in the stillness of that small hospital room, with no barkada to buffer them, no crowd to distract them, it was just JL and Han—trapped in the quiet, in the tension, in something dangerously close to the truth.
The silence stretched again after Han’s last remark. JL sat in his chair, sulking, arms crossed so tight his shoulders ached. He stared at the clock above the door, counting the seconds, pretending not to notice Han’s eyes following his every move.
Then came the inevitable.
“Gaspar,” Han said, voice low but amused.
“What now?” JL snapped, already bristling.
“I’m hungry.”
JL blinked. “And that’s my problem because…?”
Han gave him a pointed look, lifting his IV hand slightly. “Kind of hard to eat like this. Unless you want me to starve.”
JL’s jaw dropped. “You’ve got nurses for that!”
“They’re busy.” Han’s smirk was faint, but it was there. “Besides, I’d rather you do it.”
“Excuse me?!”
“You’re already here,” Han said simply, as if that explained everything. “Might as well.”
JL groaned loudly, dragging a hand down his face. “Tangina, bakit ba ako naiipit sa mga ganito…” He shot to his feet, muttering curses under his breath as he grabbed the covered tray on the bedside table.
Han’s smile widened, barely noticeable.
JL set the food down with a clatter. “Fine. But don’t make it weird.”
Han arched a brow. “How could eating be weird?”
JL glared daggers at him, stabbing the spoon into the soup with unnecessary force. “Open your mouth.”
Han leaned forward obediently, lips parting, eyes locked on JL’s the entire time.
JL froze. Heat rushed to his ears. “Stop... stop looking at me like that!”
“Like what?” Han asked after swallowing, voice teasing. “Like you’re the only person in the room?”
“Ano b—” JL almost dropped the spoon. “Do you ever shut up?!”
“No,” Han replied smoothly. “Not when you’re around.”
JL’s hand shook as he shoved another spoonful at him, almost too roughly. “Sana mabulunan ka! Kainis.”
Han chuckled even as he ate, the sound warm and maddening. “You’re terrible at pretending.”
“Pretending what?!” JL hissed.
“That you don’t care.”
JL’s breath caught, but he said nothing. He fed him in silence after that, jaw tight, refusing to meet Han’s eyes.
Later, when the tray was pushed aside and the room dimmed into evening, Han lay back against his pillows, exhaustion tugging at his features.
JL sat slouched in the chair again, trying not to watch the steady rise and fall of his chest.
“You’re still here,” Han murmured sleepily, eyes fluttering half-shut.
JL rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well. Someone has to babysit you. Can’t trust you not to fall off the bed.”
Han huffed a laugh. “Even half-dead, you still find ways to insult me.”
“Insulting you is my love language,” JL muttered before he could stop himself.
The words hung in the air. JL froze, eyes wide, mouth snapping shut like a trap.
Han cracked one eye open, a slow grin spreading across his face. “So you admit it.”
“NO I DON’T—” JL shot up from his chair, pacing furiously. “I—it was a slip of the tongue!”
Han chuckled, voice low and fond. “You’re adorable when you panic.”
“Stop saying shit like that!” JL shouted, but his voice lacked its usual bite. His chest felt too tight, his throat too dry.
Han closed his eyes fully this time, still smiling faintly. “Fine. I’ll stop… when you leave.”
JL glared at him, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t.
Minutes passed, the only sounds the monitor and Han’s breathing as he drifted closer to sleep.
JL sat back down slowly, watching despite himself. The faint crease in Han’s brow smoothed out, the lines of his face softening in sleep. Without the smirk, without the sharp words, Han looked… fragile. Almost breakable.
JL let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand over his eyes.
“Bakit ba ikaw pa,” he whispered, voice cracking in the quiet.
He didn’t notice the way Han’s lips curved faintly, even in sleep.
JL hadn’t meant to fall asleep.
He told himself he’d just sit for a bit, arms crossed, eyes closed for only a second while Han drifted off. But exhaustion dragged him under, and before he knew it, he was slumped forward in the chair, cheek pressed against the edge of Han’s bed.
When he stirred, it was to warmth. Something light, resting on his hair.
JL blinked blearily, groggy, until the realization hit him: Han’s hand. Fingers tangled lazily in his hair, absent, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
JL jerked upright. “The hell—!”
Han chuckled softly, voice still thick with sleep. “Good morning, sunshine.”
“Gsbi pa, gago,” JL snapped, rubbing his face furiously to hide the heat creeping up his neck. “And don’t touch me.”
Han tilted his head, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “You didn’t complain while you were sleeping.”
JL sputtered. “I—That’s because—I didn’t know! Kung gising ako—”
“You’d still let me,” Han interrupted smoothly.
“NO!” JL barked, louder than necessary. “Absolutely not! You’re delusional!”
Han’s laugh was soft, warm in the dim light. “You talk a lot for someone who didn’t move away.”
JL froze. His stomach twisted. Because it was true. He hadn’t moved. Even now, after waking, he hadn’t pulled his chair back.
He bit his lip, fumbling for something—anything—to throw back. Finally, he muttered, “You’re on pain meds. That’s the drugs talking.”
“Or it’s just me being honest,” Han murmured, voice steady.
JL swallowed hard, suddenly fascinated by the cracks in the floor tiles. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding.
-
Later, the night stretched long. The hallway noises died down, leaving only the hum of machines and their breathing.
Han shifted, wincing slightly, and JL was up in an instant.
“Hoy, magingat ka nga! Para namang tanga eh!” JL fussed, adjusting the blanket, making sure the IV line wasn’t tugged.
Han watched him silently, expression unreadable.
“What?” JL snapped, still smoothing the blanket like it was life or death.
“You’re scolding me like a mom.”
JL’s ears burned. “Shut up. You almost died, you don’t get to move without permission.”
Han’s lips curved into that maddeningly soft smile again. “I like this version of you.”
JL rolled his eyes. “Pinagsasabi mo? Anong version?”
“The one who doesn’t hide when he cares.”
JL froze, throat going dry. He looked away quickly, pretending to adjust the pillow. “You’re imagining things again. Baliw.”
But Han’s voice stayed quiet, sure. “I’m not.”
At some point past midnight, JL found himself staring at Han’s face while he slept again. The dim glow from the machines painted him softer—no smirk, no sharp words, just a boy with messy hair and lashes too long for his own good.
JL leaned back in his chair, sighing into the stillness. “Bakit ba ikaw pa,” he whispered, barely audible.
He didn’t notice Han’s eyes fluttering open, not all the way, just enough to catch the shape of JL’s silhouette, hunched and stubborn beside him.
Han smiled faintly to himself, eyes slipping shut again.
By the time morning filtered through the blinds, JL was half-asleep again, head lolling dangerously close to the bed.
“Gaspar,” Han’s voice came, still scratchy from sleep.
JL groaned. “What now?”
Han’s smile was lazy. “Stay.”
JL blinked, caught off guard. “I’ve been here all night, what more do you want?!”
Han’s gaze softened, quiet but firm. “More.”
JL’s chest tightened, words drying up before they could leave his mouth.
And for once, he didn’t argue.
The smell hit JL first. Warm rice, eggs, and the faint buttery sweetness of pan de sal.
He blinked awake in the stiff chair, neck aching, only to find a breakfast tray already waiting on the bedside table. A nurse must’ve dropped it off earlier while he dozed.
On the bed, Han was awake too, propped against the pillows, hair a total mess but somehow still looking annoyingly put-together. He glanced at JL, then at the tray, then back at JL again—already smirking.
“No,” JL said flatly.
Han raised a brow. “I didn’t even say anything yet.”
“I know where this is going,” JL muttered, rubbing his face. “And the answer is no.”
Han leaned back, voice deceptively casual. “So you’re just going to let me starve?”
JL groaned. “You’ve got hands!”
Han lifted the one with the IV line still taped to it, wiggling his fingers. “Not exactly ideal.”
“You’ve got another hand,” JL shot back.
Han gave him a pitiful look, lips turning down just enough to be dramatic. “Weak.”
“Oh my god—” JL shoved himself out of the chair. “Fine! Pero swear to god, one comment and I’m smothering you with the blanket.”
Han grinned, victorious. “Knew you’d say yes.”
JL sat on the edge of the bed this time, pulling the tray closer. He scooped some rice onto the spoon with exaggerated annoyance.
“Open,” he ordered.
Han, of course, took his sweet time. He leaned forward slightly, lips parting just enough, gaze fixed on JL like he was enjoying a private joke.
JL rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. “Pwede bang huwag kang tumitig na parang—”
“Parang ano?” Han interrupted smoothly, swallowing the bite.
“Parang tanga!” JL finished, ears red.
Han chuckled, low and warm. “I was going to say ‘parang inlove.’”
JL nearly dropped the spoon. “WHAT—”
Han shrugged innocently. “You’re easy to look at.”
JL’s brain short-circuited. “Tangina, you’re unbelievable.”
“Thank you,” Han said without missing a beat.
“That wasn’t a compliment!”
JL shoved another spoonful at him, a little too forcefully. Han only laughed more, chewing calmly like he hadn’t just wrecked JL’s entire morning.
After a few bites, Han reached for the bread with his free hand. His fingers fumbled, clumsy from the IV line, and without thinking, JL snatched it up first.
“Seriously,” JL muttered, breaking the pan de sal in half. “Hindi mo nga kaya, give it to me.”
Han’s smile softened—not his usual cocky grin, but something quieter. “You always say that. Give it to me, I’ll handle it.”
JL paused, pan de sal in hand, heat crawling up his neck again. “I don’t always say that.”
“You do,” Han murmured. “And you always mean it.”
For once, JL didn’t have a comeback. He just held out the bread stiffly. “Eat before I change my mind.”
Han took it, brushing JL’s fingers in the process. The touch was light, fleeting, but it sent a spark straight up JL’s arm.
He yanked his hand back immediately, glaring at the floor. “Never again. This is the last time.”
Han chewed thoughtfully, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You said that last night.”
JL shot him a look sharp enough to cut steel. “Keep talking and you’re going to choke.”
Han leaned back, still chewing, utterly unbothered. “At least you’d be the last thing I see before I die.”
“Tangin—” JL slammed the spoon down, face burning. “That’s it. I’m leaving.”
But he didn’t. He sat back down with a huff, arms crossed, and reached for another spoonful anyway.
Han just smiled, letting him.
The tray was gone, the room quiet except for the steady beep of the monitor. JL slouched in the chair, scrolling aimlessly through his phone, though he hadn’t actually read a single word for the past ten minutes.
Han was watching him. He could feel it. Every shift, every sigh, every blink—JL knew Han’s eyes were on him, and it made his skin prickle.
“Stop staring,” JL muttered, not looking up.
Han didn’t move. “I’m not.”
JL snapped his head up, glare sharp. “Yes, you are. Don’t even try—”
And then the words ripped out of him before he could stop them.
“What if you didn’t wake up?”
Han blinked, startled. “…what?”
JL threw his phone onto the side table, too hard, the clatter echoing. His hands clenched on his knees, knuckles pale.
“You don’t get it, do you? One second you were running your mouth, being your usual pain-in-the-ass self, and the next—” His breath hitched, chest tightening. “The next you were on the floor, and everything went fucking blank.”
He dragged a hand down his face, voice fraying at the edges. “Han, you weren’t moving. You weren’t answering. Everyone was screaming, and all I could think was—was—” He broke off, choking on the words.
Han’s brow furrowed, his usual cocky veneer stripped away. “Yence…”
JL laughed bitterly, a sound too sharp to be real. “It pissed me off. You pissed me off. Kasi bakit ako yung parang mamamatay din sa kaba? Out of all people, bakit ikaw?”
The silence between them grew thick, pressing in on JL’s chest. His shoulders sagged as he buried his face in his hands.
“I hated it,” he whispered. “I hated how much I cared.”
For a moment, Han just looked at him, lips parted, eyes wide like he didn’t know what to do with this version of JL—the one unraveling right in front of him.
Then, carefully, he shifted. The mattress dipped as he reached out, laying his good hand gently on JL’s forearm.
JL stiffened, ready to shake him off. But the touch was warm, steady. Grounding.
“You don’t have to hate it,” Han said softly.
JL lifted his head, eyes rimmed red, meeting Han’s gaze. No smirk. No sharp wit. Just sincerity that made it impossible to breathe.
“You don’t understand,” JL muttered, voice cracking. “You keep pushing yourself like nothing can touch you. You don’t care if you break. But the rest of us—” He cut himself off, throat closing up.
“The rest of you?” Han prodded gently.
JL swallowed hard, words tumbling out jagged. “The rest of us have to watch. I had to watch. I had to see you on the ground and wonder if it was the last time I’d—” He stopped, chest heaving, fists clenching in his lap.
Han’s hand tightened on his arm, firm this time. “But it wasn’t.”
JL’s laugh came out hollow. “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?” Han pressed, still calm, too calm.
“The point is—” JL snapped, standing abruptly, pacing to the far wall. His voice cracked under the weight of his own words. “The point is, I was terrified, okay?! Terrified out of my fucking mind. And I hated that it was you I was terrified for.”
The confession echoed in the sterile room, raw and jagged. JL pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, trying to hold himself together.
Han’s voice broke the silence, gentle, careful. “Gaspar.”
JL didn’t move.
“Look at me.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“JL.” Softer now, almost pleading.
Slowly, reluctantly, JL turned.
Han’s eyes were steady, unwavering. “I scared you and I’m sorry.”
JL’s throat bobbed. He looked away quickly, jaw tightening. “Sorry doesn’t change the fact it happened.”
Han nodded, accepting it, but his voice stayed even. “Then let me make it up to you.”
JL scoffed, brittle. “And how the hell do you plan to do that?”
“By not leaving,” Han said simply. “By staying. With you.”
JL’s breath caught, stomach twisting violently. “You—you can’t just say things like that.”
Han’s lips curved faintly, but his tone stayed calm. “Why not? It’s the truth.”
JL dragged a shaky hand through his hair, muttering, “You’re impossible.”
“Maybe,” Han admitted, leaning back against the pillows. “But right now, I’m your impossible.”
JL froze, every muscle in his body locking up.
The room went quiet again.
And despite everything—the fear, the anger, the chaos in his chest—he found himself moving back toward the bed, sinking into the chair like gravity itself wouldn’t let him walk away.
JL sat back down heavily, chair scraping the floor, his body angled away like he could still escape if he wanted. His arms were crossed so tight it was like he was holding himself together with sheer willpower.
Han didn’t say anything at first. He just watched, eyes soft in a way JL had never seen before. No teasing. No bite. Just… calm.
“You’re too far,” Han murmured after a long silence.
JL’s head whipped around. “What?”
Han gestured faintly with his uninjured hand, towards the empty stretch of bed. “You’re sitting like you’re scared I’ll bite.”
JL scoffed. “You do bite. Every day. With your words.”
“That’s different,” Han said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Sit closer.”
“No,” JL shot back instantly. “Absolutely not.”
Han tilted his head, pretending to think. “So you’re scared.”
JL bristled, heat rushing to his face. “I am not scared. I just don’t feel like being near you, okay?!”
“Then prove it.”
JL blinked. “…what?”
Han’s smile grew, gentle but mischievous. “Sit here. If you’re really not scared, then it shouldn’t matter.”
JL’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “You’re unbelievable. You almost died yesterday, and now you’re pulling this shit?”
Han’s voice softened again, threading through the sarcasm. “JL. Come here.”
Something in the way he said it—quiet, steady, like he wasn’t asking for a favor but for something real—made JL freeze. His chest tightened, pulse loud in his ears.
“I—” JL stammered, fingers twitching on his lap. He wanted to refuse. He should refuse. But his body betrayed him. Slowly, stiffly, he shifted his chair closer, until his knees brushed against the edge of the bed.
Han’s eyes warmed. “Closer.”
JL groaned. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”
“Always,” Han said, grinning faintly. “But only with you.”
“Ano b—” JL clutched his head like he could physically hold back the blush spreading across his face. “You’re gonna kill me faster than that accident did.”
Han chuckled low, then winced slightly at the pull in his chest. JL was up in an instant, leaning over without thinking. “Hoy, careful! Bakit ba kasi ang kulit mo—”
And then he realized how close they were. His hand was on Han’s pillow, his face barely inches from Han’s, close enough to see the flecks of light in his dark eyes.
Han’s voice dropped, softer than ever. “See? Not so scary.”
JL’s breath hitched, words dying in his throat. For a heartbeat, the room felt suspended in time—just the two of them, the monitor’s beeping the only sound.
Then JL jerked back, collapsing into the chair again, face flaming. “Never again. This is the last time, swear to god.”
Han smirked, eyes drifting shut as if he’d already won. “That’s what you always say.”
JL buried his face in his hands, muttering curses under his breath.
And yet… he didn’t move away.
The room slipped into stillness again. Han, for once, didn’t push further—he simply leaned back, eyes heavy, that small, irritatingly soft smile still curving his lips. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, the steady rhythm almost in sync with the monitor’s beeps.
JL sat frozen in the chair, arms crossed, trying not to look at him. But his eyes kept betraying him, sliding back to the bed. To Han’s messy hair, the faint crease between his brows, the rise and fall of his chest.
He should’ve left. He could’ve left. He’d threatened it enough times already.
But his body stayed rooted to the chair.
His mind replayed the words he’d spat earlier, jagged and raw: What if you didn’t wake up? The image of Han lying motionless, surrounded by chaos, slammed back into him, knocking the air out of his lungs.
JL rubbed his face roughly, muttering under his breath. “I hate you. I hate you so much.”
But the words felt empty. Hollow. Like they didn’t belong to him anymore.
He glanced at Han again. The boy’s lashes brushed against his cheeks, his expression soft in sleep. Vulnerable. Trusting.
And against every stubborn bone in his body, JL felt something in his chest unclench—just a fraction.
He leaned back in the chair, arms finally dropping to his sides, eyes fixed stubbornly on the ceiling. “Tangina, Han,” he whispered, barely audible. “Don’t make me get used to this.”
The only answer was the steady sound of Han’s breathing.
JL exhaled slowly, long and shaky, before letting his head tip against the back of the chair.
He stayed.