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Jeyel had always been a force of nature, warm, persistent, and full of life. He had a habit of inserting himself into Chih's life like a relentless ray of sunshine breaking through stormy clouds. And Chih, cold and distant, pretended not to care.
They met at the start of their senior year. Jeyel, all smiles and laughter, had transferred to Chih's school, instantly becoming everyone's favorite. Chih, however, was unmoved. He didn't care for the new student who made friends so easily, who seemed to shine in every room he entered. But Jeyel had an annoying habit of being persistent, and for some reason, he had taken an interest in Chih.
“Bakit ang sungit mo sakin?” Jeyel had asked one afternoon, grinning as he leaned over Chih's desk.
Chih barely spared him a glance. “I don't like noisy people.”
“Ay, paano na 'yan? Ang ingay ko pa naman.” Jeyel dramatically clutched his chest, feigning heartbreak. “So, dapat tahimik nalang ako para magustuhan mo?”
Chih scoffed. “I wouldn’t like you either.”
But Jeyel never took offense. He laughed, sat beside Chih every day, and treated him as if he were someone worth knowing. And slowly, reluctantly, Chih let him in. Not completely, not fully, but enough to keep him close–even when he knew he shouldn't.
And still, Jeyel stayed. Still, he cared. Still, he love Chih in a way that made it easy to believe in the impossible.
So, Chih let himself have this. Jeyel's warmth, his laughter, the way he made Chih feel like he was worth something more than just a name etched into his skin. Even if it would all come crashing down in the end.
~
Jeyel never thought about the soulmate mark much. Everyone made such a big deal about it, but he figured it would come when it came. What mattered was the now and right now, his world revolved around Chih.
At first, it was just fun. Teasing the grumpy, unapproachable guy in class had become his favorite pastime. But then, somewhere between stolen glances and quiet moments where Chih let his guard down, Jeyel had fallen. Hard.
He wished Chih would see it too.
“Chih, labas tayo this weekend?” Jeyel asked one afternoon, eyes full of hope.
Chih barely looked up from his book. “I’m busy.”
“Palagi ka nalang busy.” Jeyel sighed, leaning back against the chair. “One day, mawawala nalang ako, tapos hindi mo man lang mapapansin.”
Chih froze for a second before flipping the page. "Hindi ka mawawala."
It was selfish. Chih knew it was. But he wanted to keep Jeyel just a little longer, even if he couldn't promise forever.
One evening, they sat together on the rooftop of Chih’s house, the sky stretching vast and endless above them. Jeyel leaned back on his hands, staring at the stars. “Sana ikaw nalang soulmate ko, no?”
Chih, who had been sipping his coffee, nearly choked. He turned to Jeyel, who was grinning at him, as if the words weren’t a blade twisting in Chih’s gut.
“Just imagine,” Jeyel continued, “magkasama tayo palagi. Wala nang tanong-tanong, wala nang pag-aalinlangan. Kasi meant to be tayo.”
Chih let out a dry chuckle. “Hindi lahat ng gusto natin, makukuha natin.”
“Ang harsh mo naman.” Jeyel pouted. Then, after a moment, he whispered, “Pero gusto ko talaga sana ikaw.”
Chih didn’t reply. He just stared ahead, the weight of reality settling in his chest. Jeyel didn’t know. He didn’t know that no matter how much he wished for it, it wouldn’t change what was already written on Chih’s skin.
~
And then Jeyel turned eighteen.
His birthday was full of laughter, surrounded by friends, warmth, and love. Chih had been there, standing at the edge of the room, watching as Jeyel beamed at every gift, every greeting. He was glowing, brighter than ever.
Then came the moment Jeyel has been waiting for, the reveal of his soulmate mark. Jeyel, full of excitement, rolled up his sleeve, heart pounding. He had tried to act cool about it before, but truthfully, he had been waiting for this day.
He watched as the ink slowly surfaced on his skin, delicate and permanent. His heart skipped a beat, eyes widening as he recognized the name appearing on his wrist.
"Chih!" His voice trembled, breathless with joy. "Ikaw. Ikaw yung pangalan na lumitaw. Sabi ko na nga ba, eh!" His voice was filled with certainty, with love, with everything he had always believed in. He turned to Chih, expecting to see shock, happiness– something. But Chih only stood there, frozen.
A beat of silence passed, and then another. The smile on Jeyel’s lips wavered. "Chih? Bakit ganyan yung mukha mo?"
Chih opened his mouth, but no words came out. He felt suffocated, like the walls were caving in, like the universe was playing some cruel joke on them both.
Because on Chih’s shoulder, hidden beneath layers of fabric, the name had already been there for months.
Jeyel’s expression faltered, laughter dying on his lips. “Chih... ako yung soulmate mo, ‘di ba?”
Chih swallowed hard, turning away. He couldn’t bear to look at Jeyel’s hopeful eyes, couldn’t bear to shatter the dream he had built for himself.
But Jeyel wasn’t stupid. He saw the way Chih clenched his fists, the way his jaw tightened like he was holding something back. The room felt too quiet, too heavy, and suddenly, the warmth Jeyel had always felt with Chih…
It was gone.
“Hindi ba?” Jeyel’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Chih closed his eyes, inhaling sharply. He wished he could lie. Wish he could be selfish for just a little longer.
But the truth was already there, inked into his skin.
And it wasn’t Jeyel’s name.
~
Jeyel found Chih by the riverside the next day, standing still as the water flowed endlessly before him. The morning mist clung to the air, making everything feel colder than it should have been. Chih looked like he hadn’t slept, his hair disheveled, his clothes wrinkled like he had been up all night running from something he couldn’t escape.
Jeyel approached slowly, the crunch of his footsteps against the gravel the only sound between them. “You left me.”
Chih flinched, but he didn’t turn around. He kept his gaze locked on the river, as if looking anywhere else would break him. “I had to.”
Jeyel let out a breathy laugh, but there was no humor in it. “You had to?” His voice wavered. “Chih, do you have any idea how it felt? One second, ako yung pinaka-masayang tao sa buong mundo, and the next-” He swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists. “The next, you were gone.”
Chih finally turned to face him, and Jeyel’s breath caught at the exhaustion in his eyes. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” Chih admitted. His voice was hoarse, like he had spent the night choking on words he couldn’t say.
“Then why?” Jeyel’s voice cracked. “Why didn’t you say something? Bakit hindi mo man lang sinabi saakin before i–” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Before I let myself believe we could have this.”
Chih looked away. “Because I’m selfish.”
Jeyel stared at him, waiting, urging him to go on.
“I knew it wasn’t you,” Chih confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I knew it from the beginning. But I couldn’t let go. You were…” He stopped, inhaling sharply like he was trying to hold himself together. “You were the only thing that ever made me feel alive, Jeyel. And I was too much of a coward to push you away.”
Jeyel’s eyes burned. “So you were just going to keep this from me forever? Let me believe that we were-” He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “That we were meant to be?”
Chih closed his eyes, as if in pain. “I wanted to be selfish for a little longer.”
Jeyel wiped at his eyes harshly, the betrayal weighing heavy in his chest. “And now what, Chih? What happens now?”
Chih opened his mouth, but no words came. The truth was, he didn’t know. He didn’t know how to let go of Jeyel when every fiber of his being told him to hold on.
Jeyel took a shaky step forward. “Soulmate or not, Chih… I still want you. Ikaw yung minahal ko, hindi yung pangalan na nakalagay sa balat ko,”
Chih’s breath hitched. He wanted to tell Jeyel he was making a mistake, that he should turn away, find someone who could love him without the shadow of another name hanging over them. But the words wouldn’t come. Because the truth was, he wanted Jeyel to stay too.
So he let him.
~
Jeyel and Chih tried to go back to how things were, but the cracks in their relationship were impossible to ignore. Jeyel forced himself to believe that love was enough. That soulmarks didn’t matter. That fate wasn’t absolute.
Chih tried, too. He held Jeyel’s hand, let him press soft kisses against his knuckles, whispered sweet nothings that he tried to believe. But in the quiet moments, when Jeyel wasn’t looking, guilt gnawed at him. Jeyel is not his soulmate, and no matter how much he wanted to be, he could never rewrite fate.
They filled their days with laughter, forcing normalcy into their routines. They went to their favorite cafés, walked home under streetlights, kissed under shared umbrellas when the rain poured. And for a while, it almost worked. Almost.
One evening, they sat together in Jeyel’s room, wrapped in a blanket, sharing warmth against the chill of the outside world. A movie played on the screen, but neither of them was really watching. Jeyel rested his head against Chih’s shoulder, exhaling a quiet sigh.
“This feels nice,” Jeyel murmured.
Chih didn’t respond right away. His fingers toyed with the edge of the blanket, hesitating. Then, after a pause, he hummed softly.
Jeyel lifted his head slightly, studying Chih’s expression. “You believe that, right?” His voice was light, teasing-like he was afraid of the answer. “That we don’t need fate?”
Chih’s grip on the fabric tightened, but he forced a smile. “Of course.”
It wasn’t a lie. Not entirely. He wanted to believe it.
Jeyel smiled, satisfied with the answer, and curled closer. “Good.”
But Chih didn’t relax. He stared at the screen, eyes unfocused, and felt the weight of the unspoken words pressing against his chest.
Later that night, when Jeyel had fallen asleep beside him, Chih traced his fingertips over Jeyel’s wrist, over the name etched into his skin. Jeyel had spent years waiting for the day he would meet his soulmate. He had looked at this mark with so much hope.
Now, Chih could only look at it with guilt.
He swallowed hard, his hand hovering over his shoulder, where his soulmate mark was placed. But it wasn’t Jeyel’s name. It never would be.
Chih exhaled shakily and closed his eyes.
He wondered if, in another life, fate had been kinder.
They were walking home one evening, hands intertwined. The city lights cast a soft glow around them, and Jeyel, caught in the warmth of the moment, murmured, “I love you.”
Chih hesitated.
It was brief. A second too long. A moment of silence stretching between them like a crack in the pavement. Then he smiled, squeezing Jeyel’s hand. “I love you too.”
Jeyel smiled back, but something in his chest ached.
It happened again a week later. This time, Jeyel caught Chih staring at his soulmark, his fingers brushing over the letters absentmindedly.
Jeyel swallowed. “Do you ever wish na wala nalang yan?”
Chih blinked, startled. “What?”
“My soulmark,” Jeyel said quietly. “Do you wish it didn’t exist?”
Chih opened his mouth, closed it, then forced a chuckle. “That’s a weird question.”
Jeyel studied him, searching for something, anything that would ease the doubt gnawing at him. “I just… I don’t care about soulmates. Alam mo naman yun diba?”
Chih nodded. “I know.”
Jeyel reached out, taking Chih’s hand in his own. “Pero bakit ganyan ka makatingin?”
Chih stiffened. He hadn’t even realized he’d been staring.
“I-” Chih stopped himself. His mind raced for something to say, something that would make Jeyel let this go. But nothing came.
Jeyel let out a small, breathless laugh. “It’s stupid, right? To feel scared that I’m losing you when you’re right here.”
Chih swallowed hard. “You’re not losing me.”
Jeyel smiled, but it was strained. “Then say it.”
Chih furrowed his brows. “Say what?”
“Tell me you don’t think about him.”
The air between them went still.
Chih opened his mouth. No words came out.
And in the silence, Jeyel felt his heart crack just a little more.
He wanted to believe they could fight fate. But deep down, he knew love alone could not erase what was missing. Stupid fate, ‘alam mo talaga kung paano maglaro ng puso…’
~
Chih began pulling away in ways that were almost unnoticeable at first. He stopped saying I love you first. His kisses became hesitant. His touches unsure.
Jeyel noticed, of course he did.
At first, he tried to ignore it. Sinabihan niya ang sarili na baka pagod lang si Chih, baka may iniisip lang, baka kailangan lang ng space. Pero habang tumatagal, mas lalo niyang napapansin ang mga pagbabago.
The way Chih turned away just a second too soon when Jeyel kissed his cheek. The way he let go first every time they held hands. The way his replies turned shorter, less warm.
Then, one night, habang magkatabi sila sa kama, Jeyel turned to him, his voice soft with exhaustion.
“Love you,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against Chih’s wrist.
Silence.
Jeyel’s eyes fluttered open, finding Chih staring at the ceiling. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he waited, his chest growing tighter with every second of quiet that passed.
Then, finally
“…Mm. Love you too.”
It was soft. Almost automatic. Like an afterthought.
Jeyel felt something crack inside him. That was the first time he truly knew.
The second time he knew, it was even worse.
It happened by accident.
He was supposed to meet Chih after school. Nauna siya sa tambayan nila sa may covered court, but before he could call out to him, he heard his voice—low, tired, and heavy.
“I wish things were different,” Chih sighed..
A pause.
“Sana… hindi nalang ako yung soulmate ni Jeyel.”
Jeyel froze.
The words hit him like a physical blow.
The world around him blurred, his breath hitching as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He should leave. Dapat umalis na ako. Dapat hindi ko ito narinig. Pero hindi niya magawa.
Parang nakapako ang mga paa niya sa lupa, habang ang dibdib niya ay unti-unting dinudurog.
The silence that followed was deafening. No one said anything.
Then, Chih sighed again. “He deserves someone better. Someone who…” His voice faltered. “Someone who can love him without hesitation.”
Jeyel’s nails dug into his palms. His entire body was trembling.
So that was it, then.
Jeyel could give Chih all the love in the world, but it would never be enough.
~
That night, Jeyel couldn’t sleep.
Nakahiga lang siya sa tabi ni Chih, tahimik, habang pinagmamasdan ang kisame. His body felt cold, empty.
Chih shifted beside him, letting out a quiet sigh.
“…Jeyel?”
Jeyel swallowed, forcing himself to speak. “Hm?”
He felt Chih hesitate. Then, finally“Wala.”
Jeyel shut his eyes. Napangiti siya– a bitter and tired smile. Pati ‘yon, hindi mo masabi, ano?
Nag-ipon siya ng lakas ng loob, bago huminga nang malalim.
“Chih,” he started, voice quiet.
Chih stilled. “…Hm?”
Jeyel turned to him. Pinagmasdan niya ang taong minahal niya nang buong puso, at napansin niya ang pag-iwas ng tingin nito.
When did it become so difficult to look at each other? When did the comfort between them disappear?
Jeyel’s lips parted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Kailan mo pa ‘to naramdaman?”
Chih clenched his jaw. “Jeyel-”
“Kailan?” Jeyel insisted, and his voice cracked.
Chih exhaled sharply. His hands curled into fists over the sheets. Ilang saglit ang lumipas bago siya sumagot.
“…A long time ago.”
It was so soft, so quiet. Pero ramdam ni Jeyel ang bigat ng bawat salita.
His breath caught in his throat. Matagal na.
So all this time, Chih had been staying not because he wanted to, but because he felt like he had to.
Jeyel let out a broken laugh, shaking his head. “So all this time, ako lang?”
Chih opened his mouth, guilt flashing in his eyes.
Jeyel sniffled, wiping at his face. His voice wavered, but his next words came out steady.
“Hindi mo naman talaga kailangang mamili, ‘di ba?” Jeyel murmured, a small, broken smile on his lips. “Kasi simula’t sapul… hindi naman talaga ako.”
Chih squeezed his eyes shut. “Jeyel, I-”
“Don’t.” Jeyel shook his head, standing up before he could finish. “Huwag mo nang sabihin. Ayos lang.”
He grabbed his hoodie from the chair, his hands shaking. He walked toward the door, pausing just for a second.
“I love you, Chih.” His voice was soft, final. “Pero hindi ko kayang maging pangalawa sa tadhana.”
Chih inhaled sharply. “Jeyel...”
But Jeyel was already walking away.
… And Chih didn’t stop him.
~
That night, Chih sat alone in his room, staring blankly at the ceiling.
The silence was suffocating.
He never realized how loud Jeyel’s presence had been until it was gone. how the smallest things, the quiet hum of his voice, the way he’d unconsciously tap his fingers against Chih’s wrist, had filled the spaces between them.
Now, there was nothing.
Chih curled his fingers inward, pressing his palm against his chest as if he could hold himself together, as if he could stop the hollow ache that had taken root inside him.
Wala na si Jeyel. At wala nang natira kay Chih.
He turned to his side, instinctively reaching out, only to grasp at cold, empty sheets.
Right.
There was no warmth waiting for him anymore. His breath hitched. His hands were trembling.
Hinawakan niya ang sarili niyang kamay, pero parang hindi na niya maalala ang pakiramdam ng hawak ni Jeyel.
The way Jeyel’s fingers used to trace absentminded patterns against his skin. The way his touch had always been so steady, so sure, so full of love.
His throat tightened. His chest burned.
Then, a sharp, searing pain bloomed on his shoulder.
Chih flinched, gasping as he clutched at it.
It hurt. It hurt in a way that felt deeper than skin, deeper than muscle. Parang may isang bahagi sa kanya na pilit pinupunit, pinapalitan.
He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to look.
His soulmate mark pulsed with heat.
As if fate says it’s wrong.
Na hindi si Jeyel ang dapat niyang iyakan.
Na mula’t sapul, he was meant to love someone else.
Heejun.
The name burned against his skin, but in his heart, it was empty. Hollow.
Dapat gumaan ang pakiramdam ko, he thought bitterly. I should be happy.
This was fate, wasn’t it? This was what was supposed to happen.
And yet…
Bakit parang mas lalong bumigat ang dibdib niya? Bakit parang mas lalo siyang nawala?
His vision blurred. His breath shuddered.
Heejun.
Hindi si Jeyel.
Never Jeyel.
Chih pressed a hand over his eyes, but it did nothing to stop the memories from rushing in.
Jeyel, standing in the doorway, his shoulders stiff, his hands shaking. Jeyel, whispering his last I love you, voice barely holding together. Jeyel, walking away–walking away without looking back.
Chih squeezed his eyes shut.
He never realized how much it would hurt to watch him go.
He never realized that no matter what fate had decided, a part of him would always reach for Jeyel first.
That even if Heejun’s name was written in his skin, Jeyel’s name was carved into his soul.
A sob tore from his throat before he could stop it. His shoulders shook.
For the first time, he truly let himself cry.