Work Text:
Angel Canino stood under the bright lights, gripping the cold base of her Best Outside Hitter trophy while cameras flashed around her. Her face hurt from smiling too much, her throat dry from all the interviews—but she was riding on a high she never expected.
People clapped. Names were called. Photos were snapped. Everything felt surreal, but also strangely routine.
This is what you've worked for.
This is it.
She waved absently at the crowd as she returned to her place beside her teammates. And yet, something tugged at her.
While walking off the stage, her eyes briefly scanned the line of players beside her. Familiar faces, some strangers. One face blinked at her.
She didn’t think much of it—just another player from UP. Short hair. Wide eyes. Standing between Jolina and Thea. Her hands were mid-clap, but her face looked… dazed. Like she was somewhere else entirely.
Angel squinted slightly. Was she spacing out?
Maybe.
She turned away again, already prepping herself for the next award.
“Rookie of the Year… Angel Canino!”
The cheer was louder this time. Angel instinctively smiled wider, brushing her hair behind her ear before stepping forward again. She caught her reflection on the big screen—too composed, too polished. But she didn’t let it shake her.
She walked like she belonged there.
And yet, just as she turned to wave again, her eyes slid over the UP corner once more.
That girl—same one—was watching.
Not just clapping. Watching.
Angel didn’t know why she noticed that. Maybe because the girl looked like she had just gotten caught staring.
As Angel went back to the line of players, Jolina had her phone out, recording Angel as they both anticipate the announcement of the MVP.
Angel waved at the camera, and the girl behind Jolina caught her attention for a split second. The smallest flick of her hand twitched upward, like she almost waved—but didn’t.
Angel didn’t return the wave, of course. She wasn’t even sure it was a wave. Probably just someone adjusting their hair or something dumb like that.
Still.
That kind of expression—quiet, hesitant, unsure—it stayed with her for a second longer than it should have. A blink too long.
Eventually, her name was called for MVP, and the blinding lights never get old.
She didn’t realize how long she’d been holding her smile until she got backstage and let it drop.
Someone tapped her shoulder—another handler for a photo op.
Angel nodded, following them, but her thoughts flickered back to that girl. The one with the big eyes and the nearly-wave.
She shook her head, grinning faintly to herself.
What was that even about?
Just another face in the crowd.
Right?
Angel Canino never really noticed Niña Ytang—at least not beyond the usual glance every player gave their opponents. The girl was decent on court, sure. Scrappy. Intense. But nothing particularly remarkable stood out... until her notifs started blowing up days after the awarding.
She was casually scrolling through her timeline when a tweet that one of her fans quote retweeted caught her eye.
“Gustong gusto kita 🥺”
Angel paused, confused. It was a simple tweet. But the replies? Filled with angel emojis, “🟩🏹1️⃣2️⃣”, and—
“Canino ka lang?”
She blinked. Wait… this is about me?
Curiosity piqued, Angel tapped on the original tweet and was greeted by a profile photo of none other than Niña Ytang. A brief laugh escaped her lips. This girl really tweeted that? She found it ridiculous… and oddly cute. But before the smile could settle too long on her face, she scrolled off. Not a big deal, she told herself.
But then—TikTok betrayed her.
A random edit, barely 200 views, popped up on her FYP. It was a soft montage of her and Niña at the Season 85 awarding ceremony. Slow-mo clips, light filters, soft indie music. One part showed Niña clapping, then shyly looking away. Another—Angel definitely remembered this one—was Niña staring at her through someone else’s phone, nearly waving. To no one.
Angel choked back a laugh. Okay, that's wild. She hit share and sent it to Amie with a short:
"😭 grabe may ganito na pala HAHA"
She didn’t think much of it.
The next day during training, Amie strolled up to her mid-warmup, wiping sweat off her face.
"Hoy," Amie started casually, "Bakit mo nga pala sinend 'yung edit niyo ni Ytang kagabi?"
Angel stretched her shoulders. “Kasi ang random! Like… seriously? Out of all people?”
Amie raised a brow. “Random nga ba talaga?”
Angel narrowed her eyes. “Don’t start, Amie. It’s nothing. I just thought it was funny.”
"Sure, sure," Amie replied, but her look said otherwise.
Later that morning, during their water break, Angel sat quietly on the bench, scrolling on her phone. The gym buzzed in the background, sneakers squeaking and laughter bouncing off the walls—but Angel was zoned out.
Her thumb hovered over the search bar.
Fine. One look won’t hurt.
@Niñaytang
There she was. Profile still public. Still there. Angel scrolled through her tweets, pretending it was just curiosity. But the more she read, the more she smiled—especially at the tweet dated a few days after the awarding. Niña wasn’t even subtle.
Angel shook her head and chuckled softly.
"You’re smiling by yourself," Amie said, suddenly beside her.
Angel didn’t even flinch. “Look,” she said, showing Niña’s profile.
Amie looked at the screen, grinned, then gave her a look. “Stalker ka na ngayon?”
“Oh my god, shut up,” Angel muttered, rolling her eyes.
Before she could pull her phone away, Amie snatched it. "Bumalik ka dito!"
Too late. Followed.
“AMIE—!” Angel lunged, grabbing for her phone, but Amie was already on the run, laughing her heart out as she zigzagged through the gym.
"I-UNFOLLOW MO YAN!!!" Angel shouted, borderline hysterical, as she chased after her.
The chase had ended in laughter. Angel had finally retrieved her phone, landing a soft but victorious slap on Amie's back. Amie, still giggling, threw her hands up in surrender while Shevana blinked in confusion, caught between shielding herself and staying completely out of the drama.
"Okay, okay! Chill lang, stalker!" Amie teased.
Angel rolled her eyes, still catching her breath. "You’re the one who clicked follow!”
"Eh bakit ka nag-unfollow agad?" Amie raised a brow as they entered the locker room. "Baka naman… natakot ka masyado?"
Angel didn’t answer right away. She tossed her towel into her bag, sitting down on the bench with her back to Amie.
The truth?
She didn’t know why she unfollowed. Or, maybe she did. Maybe she just didn’t want to admit it. That following Niña Ytang felt… too real.
Too loud.
Too intentional.
Angel scrolled through her phone again, half-hoping Niña didn’t see the follow-notif. It was fast. Barely a second. Maybe she missed it.
"Baka she saw it," Amie added, as if reading her mind.
Angel groaned. "Huy, tigilan mo ko."
Shevana finally spoke up from the corner, her tone deadpan: “So… who's Ytang?”
Both Amie and Angel turned to her in unison.
“She’s UP’s middle blocker,” Amie explained with a knowing smile. “Na nahuli ni Angel na nakatingin sa kanya during awarding.”
“She wasn’t—” Angel started, then stopped. “Okay, she was. A little. But that doesn’t mean anything.”
Amie smirked. “Sabi mo e.”
Angel sank further into her jersey, suddenly tired. Not from training—but from the weird, fluttery tension that refused to settle.
She opened Twitter again, typing out Niña’s name in the search bar. She didn't follow her this time. She just stared.
Niña’s latest tweet before the tweet was a meme. Something dumb. Something funny.
Angel smiled to herself.
Then quickly looked away when Amie leaned over her shoulder again.
“Sobrang whipped naman,” Amie whispered.
Angel pushed her away hard.
By now, Angel had gotten over her brief panic from accidentally following Niña Ytang. Or at least, that’s what she told herself every morning when she woke up and still thought about it.
She hadn’t meant to follow her. Amie had tapped her phone. But now, the damage was done. Niña most likely saw it. Angel spent an entire evening convincing herself it didn’t matter.
The dorms that night were quiet. Most of the Lady Spikers were either asleep or in the middle of their skincare routines. But Angel Canino? She was wide awake, lying on her side, the soft hum of her electric fan blending with the occasional buzz from her phone.
She told herself she was just scrolling to unwind after a long day of drills and weights. But somewhere between checking the team group chat and watching more Tiktoks, her thumb paused… hovering over a familiar name.
Niña Ytang.
Again.
Angel scoffed at herself. “Tingin lang,” she muttered, as if saying it out loud would make it less embarrassing.
She tapped on Niña’s profile.
There wasn’t much—just a few retweets, some meme replies, and a sleepy mirror selfie from earlier that afternoon. Niña was in training gear, hair tied up in a messy bun, with the caption:
“Maawa't mahabag!!!”
Angel bit her lip to stop the stupid smile forming on her face.
The lighting was bad. The photo was grainy. Niña looked exhausted.
And somehow… still adorable.
Angel zoomed in before catching herself. “Tangina,” she whispered, dropping her phone on the bed like it burned her.
She stared at the ceiling for a second, willing her heart to slow down. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was just… appreciating a fellow player. Right?
But then she remembered that one TikTok edit.
The one she found by accident.
The one with slow motion clips from the awarding ceremony, including a split-second where Niña looked like she almost waved at her.
At her.
Angel shook her head and reached for her phone again.
Curiosity won.
She went back to Twitter, scrolling through old QRTs of that infamous “Gustong gusto kita 🥺” tweet. Angel clicked on one fan’s page—someone who’d been shipping them hard for weeks—and found another edit. A new one.
“Ytang x Canino!!! ano ship name? YtaNino? AngNa? Parang mas bagay YtanGel!”
The video was chaotic and clearly rushed, but it worked. Clips of Angel laughing at a timeout. Niña glancing in her direction between points. A voiceover saying “kilala mo ba kung sino yan?” before a dramatic cut to a zoomed-in photo of Angel on the big screen.
These clips weren't even connected to each other, and yet it worked.
It worked so well that Angel threw her head back on the pillow, laughing quietly.
“Grabe. May multiverse na pala kami,” she whispered, fingers brushing the side of her face as she tried to hide her growing grin.
Before she could stop herself, she screen-recorded the edit. Sent it to Amie with a crying emoji and:
“HAHAHA mga baliw 😭”
Seconds later, a reply came in:
"Girl, matulog ka na. Stalker ka nanaman! ”
Angel replied with a rolling eyes emoji—but she didn’t deny it.
Because the truth?
Somewhere between the noise, the tweets, the edits, and the accidental stalking, Angel started to realize: she was watching Niña more than she meant to.
More than she should.
What happens when watching isn’t enough anymore?
Angel tries her best to focus, and she succeeds. At least for a while.
She's eventually forgotten about Niña, although, because of Amie and Shevana's whispers, she hasn't completely forgotten about her.
Five days later, she eventually found herself checking Niña’s Twitter.
So much for trying to forget.
Then,
Quietly. Casually,
Like a criminal,
She clicks on Niña’s profile.
There wasn’t anything incriminating. Just another tweet Niña posted after their scrimmage:
“Coach, mahal kita, pero ang sakit😭” —with a blurry photo of her knee pads and what looked like three cans of Sting in the background.
Angel stared at the photo longer than she should’ve.
"Third time mo na yan," Amie said, suddenly behind her.
Angel nearly dropped her phone. “Gag-”
Amie cackled and leaned over Angel’s shoulder. “You’re stalking her again. Gusto mo na ba i-print ‘yung profile niya?”
“Shut up,” Angel groaned, locking her phone.
“Tell me why you’re smiling at her blurry knee pads, please.”
Angel glared. “I wasn’t.”
“Sure, and I’m the libero.”
Angel shoved her, and Amie just laughed harder, skipping away across the gym.
Angel knew what was coming—she chased after her immediately.
“Hoy! Amie!”
Amie ran straight across the floor, weaving through bags and mats as Angel sprinted after her. Their teammates laughed from the sidelines, used to their chaos by now.
After a few turns around the gym, Angel finally caught her and landed a soft slap to Amie’s back.
“Nakakainis talaga,” Angel panted, grinning despite herself as she retrieved her phone again.
Shevana looked up from where she was stretching. “What's happening now?”
“She’s stalking her volleyball crush,” Amie chirped.
Angel groaned. “Not true.”
“She even smiled at knee pads,” Amie added with a wink.
Shevana blinked. “Whose knee pads?”
“Ytang’s,” Amie whispered dramatically.
Angel lunged to grab Amie again, but this time Amie took cover behind Shevana.
Shevana raised her hands in surrender, almost as if she was bracing for impact.
Angel laughed at the sight and just hugged Shevana tightly instead, letting go after.
Angel then slumped to the floor, catching her breath and rolling her eyes at Amie whose smirking.
Her heart was still beating a little too fast.
Not just from the chase.
Not entirely.
She opened her phone again—this time, Niña’s profile was already on screen. Still not following. Still just… staring.
She didn’t realize she’d zoned out until her coach called for attention.
“Ladies, quick announcement.”
Angel stood, dusting off her legs and rejoining the team. Her face finally sobered when she saw her coach’s expression: unreadable but serious.
“We’ll be attending a week-long joint training camp.”
Angel glanced at Amie, who was still smirking. Her other teammates cheered, as they've been wanting to go to a training camp for months now.
Shevana suddenly chimes in the teasing, nudging Angel, who just sighs deeply, and listens more intently.
Coach continued, “And guess who we’ll be training with?”
Angel’s stomach tightened just slightly, her pulse quickening.
This was new.
Coach let the murmur settle before dropping the real news.
“The University of the Philippines, Fighting Maroons.”
Angel’s eyes flicked to Shevana, who nudged her again with a teasing smirk.
Amie leaned closer and whispered, loud enough for Angel to hear, “In the middle of everything talaga.”
Angel froze, blinking as if caught mid-thought.
She swallowed, unsure how to respond. “Yun ba tagline niya?”
Shevana chuckled. “It's like your Canino tagline, but her version.”
Angel gave a tight-lipped smile, her mind swirling with mixed feelings she hadn’t fully unpacked yet.
The team broke apart to grab their things, leaving Angel quietly caught between anticipation and confusion—knowing that the camp would bring her face to face with Niña in ways neither of them had expected.
Because, honestly?
She wasn’t sure whether to panic…
…or look forward to it.
The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but the soft pink light peeked through the curtains of the dormitory room. Niña sat cross-legged on her bed, her phone balanced between her knees and the wall.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Bienne: Ready ka na?
Niña typed back quickly, SOBRANG READY!!
But Niña didn't see Bienne's message after that, and she only realized it when she sent her message.
Ready ka na?
Ready ka na makita ulit ang asawa mo?
SOBRANG READY!!!
Niña curses Bienne out in their messages as Bienne just keeps spamming "HAHAHAHA" and "BADING" repeatedly.
Niña takes a deep breath after that chaos.
She glanced around the room — her bags were packed and leaning against the wall, her shoes lined neatly by the door. Today was the day they’d be heading out to the camp.
A mix of nerves and excitement swirled in her stomach, but mostly nerves. What would it be like? Would Angel really be there?
Niña sighed softly and stood up, stretching. She gave herself a quick pep talk in the mirror.
It’s just volleyball. You’re here to train. You can do this.
Outside, the faint sound of other teammates gathering their things floated up the hall. It was almost time to leave.
She grabbed her water bottle and slipped on her jacket and bags, feeling the weight of anticipation settle like a warm blanket.
Angel sat on the edge of her bed in her room, her volleyball bag open at her feet. She was methodically rolling up her compression sleeves, a habit she did before every big event.
The dorm was quiet except for the occasional clatter of bags being zipped and players murmuring in the halls.
Angel’s phone lay on the desk, screen lit up with notifications from fans, teammates, and even a few from that account that shipped her and Ytang so hard. She rolled her eyes but secretly smiled.
“Just focus on the camp,” she told herself.
Her phone buzzed again. Amie’s message popped up: Huwag duwag!
Angel scoffed and typed back, Anong duwag? Maglalaro lang tayo ng volleyball.
She stood and walked over to the window, looking out at the early morning cityscape.
The day ahead felt heavy with possibility. A week training alongside UP. Facing Niña again — not just as opponents, but possibly as teammates in the same space.
Angel’s heart beat a little faster. Not from nerves. Not quite. Something else.
She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, ready to take on whatever came next.
The UP bus was already half-full when Niña arrived, her bag slung across her shoulder and a cup of taho in one hand. She scanned the seats and spotted Bienne near the window, waving her over.
“Late ka na naman,” Bienne teased, nudging her as Niña slid into the seat beside her.
“May taho pa kasi sa labas,” Niña grinned, offering a spoonful like a peace offering.
Outside, the morning buzz of campus life began to fade as more teammates boarded, their energy a mix of excitement and sleepiness. Coaches were doing last-minute roll calls, checking the bags, giving reminders about uniforms and behavior.
Niña rested her head against the seat and stared out the window. Her heart was beating faster now, not from the caffeine, not from nerves… not exactly. Just this low buzz of anticipation she couldn’t shake.
She pulled out her phone and mindlessly scrolled through Twitter, then paused.
No new notifications.
She wondered if Angel would be there already. If they’d arrive at the same time. If they’d say hi. If Angel even remembered that she followed her.
Then... well... unfollowed her.
She shut her phone off quickly.
“Hoy,” Bienne said beside her. “Don’t overthink it. Training camp lang ’to.”
Niña chuckled softly, but her grip on her water bottle tightened.
“Training camp lang ’to,” she repeated, like a prayer.
Angel stood at the side of the DLSU bus, helping Shevana load a couple of extra balls into the storage compartment while Amie and Shane helped the others with their bigger bags.
“You better behave,” Shevana joked, nudging Angel with her elbow. “We’re sharing a court, not a battlefield.”
Angel rolled her eyes. “Ako pa? I’m literally the embodiment of peace.”
Amie scoffed, walking past. “Peace, but make it with a side of stalking someone's Twitter at 2 a.m.”
Angel narrowed her eyes and gave Amie a gentle shove, laughing despite herself.
Once on the bus, Angel picked a seat beside the window and watched as the campus buildings blurred by slowly. Her phone buzzed again. A group chat ping. A couple memes. A TikTok link.
She paused.
For a split second, she debated typing Niña’s name into the search bar again. Just to see if she posted anything new. But she resisted.
Instead, she rested her phone face down on her lap and leaned her head against the window. She could hear her teammates chattering, hyped about the training camp, but her thoughts were elsewhere.
The last time she saw Niña up close was the awarding ceremony.
Was that even up close?
Angel didn't even pay her any mind.
Now they’d be training together.
Same drills. Same court. Same air.
Angel wasn’t sure why that made her heart skip a beat, but it did.
The bus ride took a little over two hours, most of which Niña spent staring at the trees speeding past her window while pretending to be asleep.
Bienne had knocked out halfway through the trip, her head lolled against Niña’s shoulder, mouth slightly open. Niña didn’t dare move. Not because she was being a good friend—but because she was too lost in thought.
She had already seen the DLSU bus parked when they entered the camp’s gates. Her stomach did this thing again—something between butterflies and indigestion. Either way, it wasn’t ideal.
When their bus finally stopped, coaches were already standing by the camp lodge, clipboards in hand and whistles around their necks. Some players groaned at the sight. Others were bouncing on their feet, excited.
Niña wasn’t sure what she was.
As she stepped off the bus, sun hitting her face, she squinted at the unfamiliar campus. Trees lined the gravel pathways. There were two full courts inside the gym, dorm buildings just a few steps away. She could already hear volleyballs being bounced somewhere nearby.
She hadn’t even fully stretched yet and her heart was already racing.
Then she saw them.
DLSU. Standing in neat little groups near the far end of the lodge entrance, casually unloading their bags, laughing, chatting.
And then there she was.
Angel Canino.
In full training gear, hair down, headphones secured around her neck while she sipped from her tumbler. She wasn’t even doing anything special. She was just… standing there. Existing. But of course, her presence was magnetic.
Angel was laughing at something Lyka said, her head tilted back, shoulders shaking.
Niña could only blink.
Bienne came up beside her, slinging her duffle bag over her shoulder. “Uy. Tara. Room assignment na raw.”
“H-ha? Ah. Oo.”
But Niña took one last glance.
Just one more.
And—
Angel looked up.
Their eyes met.
For a second.
Half a second.
Too fast to mean anything. Too slow to pretend it didn’t happen.
Angel tilted her head slightly, as if recognizing her. Niña’s body froze. Her heart forgot how to function.
But then, Angel turned away.
Gone.
No wave. No smile. Nothing.
And yet, Niña was already ruined for the day.
“Kampante lang, Ytang,” she muttered to herself as she turned toward the dorms. “This is just training. Training lang ’to.”
But even she didn’t believe that.
The air buzzed with post-travel fatigue and excitement as the girls gathered around the front desk of the training camp dorms. Bags clunked against the tiled floor, and shoes squeaked with each shuffle.
“Okay, room assignments!” the coordinator called out, holding up a clipboard. “Each room has two bunk beds, four girls per room. No complaining ha, it’s only for a week.”
Niña, still groggy from the early trip, leaned against her duffel bag. Nica stood beside her, already sipping from a juice box she picked up at the stopover. Bienne and Jaz lingered nearby with Kianne, annoying her in their own tactics.
“Room 204… Niña Ytang and Nica Celis, Angel Canino and Amie Provido.”
Niña nearly choked on her own breath.
“What,” she whispered, as Nica slowly turned her head toward her with the fakest innocent smile.
Angel, just a few feet away, raised her eyebrows slightly, also clearly caught off guard. Amie? She just grinned.
“Oh my God,” Nica mouthed to Niña, barely holding in a squeal.
Amie bumped Angel’s shoulder. “Manifested.”
Angel sighed. “P’wede ba…”
They climbed the stairs in groups, a mix of excitement and low-key chaos filling the hallway.
When they finally stepped into Room 204, it was plain but cozy—two bunk beds, white sheets, a small dresser, and a big window that let the afternoon light spill in.
“Taas baba?” Nica asked Niña while already claiming the bottom bunk on the left.
“Sige na, dyan ka na,” Niña replied automatically, still pretending she wasn’t on the verge of cardiac arrest.
Angel and Amie quietly took the right-side bunk. Angel, with her usual casual air, took the top bunk. Amie dropped her bag on the bottom and immediately stretched out, like she owned the place.
As the four girls settled in, Nica caught Niña’s eye with a grin.
“Camp’s gonna be fun,” she whispered.
Niña just nodded, not trusting her voice—because across from her, just a few feet away, was the very girl she had spent the last few weeks trying not to think about.
And now they were breathing the same air. Sleeping in the same room. For a whole week.
Amie suddenly broke the silence with a grin.
“Ang cute, no? Parang sinadya. Magka-room yung mga middle blockers at team captains ng UP at DLSU.”
Niña looked up from her bag, expression unreadable. Nica, on the other hand, caught on quickly and played along.
“Oo nga! I’m Nica Celis. Sobrang excited ako to train with you,” she said as she walked toward Amie with a bright smile, offering her hand for a shake.
Amie took it, smiling back. “Amie Provido.”
Then Angel climbed down from the top bunk. No words—just a quiet glance toward Nica as she extended her hand, too.
Niña, from her perch on the top bunk, wanted the ground to swallow her whole.
“Hoy,” Nica called up to her, teasing lightly, “bumaba ka rin. Mahiya ka naman sa mga roommates natin.”
Niña rolled her eyes like it was nothing, but her pulse had started sprinting. She jumped down casually, greeted Amie first, then turned to Angel.
The handshake lasted longer than it should’ve. Like, objectively. Niña blinked.
Why is this lasting forever?
She pulled her hand back smoothly, though her heart felt like it was in a blender.
“I’m gonna go check up on Bienne at Kianne. Sunod ka nalang, Wowo,” she told Nica, tone even.
Nica nodded slowly, a little surprised. Niña rarely left like that. Especially not when Nica was mid-convo.
The door closed behind her, and the silence lingered.
“Uy,” Amie spoke up, nudging Nica with a knowing smile. “Jowa mo ba siya?”
Nica laughed, maybe a beat too loud. “Hindi naman! Lahat kami sa girls may callsign. Ganyan lang talaga kami magbiruan.”
But Angel’s stare hadn’t let up, sharp and unreadable. Like she was studying Nica’s every breath.
“Hmm. Cute ‘yung Wowo, ha,” Amie teased Angel now, turning her playful grin on her best friend. “Tawagin kaya kita nun?”
Angel just gave her a tight smile, but her eyes flicked toward the door Niña walked out of.
“I’ll catch up kay Nins,” Nica said quickly, already heading for the door. “Good luck sa training natin, ha!”
The moment the door shut again, Angel let herself collapse face-first onto Amie’s bed and screamed into the pillow.
Amie blinked. “…What was that?”
Angel groaned louder into the pillow. She didn’t have an answer. Just a growing ache in her chest and the lingering memory of Niña’s hand in hers—
—and the way Nica’s smile had looked a little too soft.
After a few moments of quiet—just the gentle hum of the air conditioning and their own thoughts—Amie shifted slightly in her seat. She glanced at Angel, who still seemed a little distant, like her mind was replaying every second of that first encounter with Niña.
Neither of them said anything for a while. They didn’t need to. The silence felt... mutual. A shared space of reflection.
Then Amie nudged Angel.
“Wanna walk around? Maybe catch up with the girls?”
Angel blinked out of her daze and looked at her.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” she said, a small smile breaking through.
They stood up together, stretching out the lingering tension in their shoulders. Outside, the late afternoon sun bathed the camp in warm gold, and the sound of laughter and volleyballs hitting the court echoed faintly in the background.
They found the others near the dorm gates, chatting and ready to explore the rest of the training camp grounds. And just like that, Angel slipped back into the rhythm—still a little shaken, still processing—but surrounded by the familiar comfort of her teammates.
Niña hugged her knees on the bottom bunk that Nica originally occupied, earbuds in, eyes fixed on the iPad in front of her. The room was quiet, save for the muffled audio of the drama she barely paid attention to. Her mind kept drifting.
Nica wasn’t back yet.
She said she was staying a little longer in Bienne’s room—“marami lang chika,” she claimed with an exaggerated yawn. Niña didn’t believe her for a second.
Meanwhile, Angel and her team had gone out for a “quick jog.”
Sure.
She tried not to think about it. She even picked her favorite comfort show, hoping it would distract her from the fact that she was currently alone in a room with one La Sallian who occupied her brain too often lately.
The door creaked open.
Niña stiffened.
Angel stepped in, slightly breathless, towel hanging around her neck, her hair still damp from the night air.
“Oh,” she said, stopping in her tracks when she saw Niña curled up in bed. “Akala ko tulog ka na.”
Niña didn’t remove her eyes from the screen, but she could see a glimpse of Angel from her peripheral vision. “Hindi pa inaantok.”
PUTANGINA LORD BAKIT GANYAN ITSURA NIYA ANG POGI????
Angel nodded slowly, toeing off her sneakers and stretching a little. “Nauna na si Amie sa baba. Mag-toothbrush daw muna. Tagal din nun.”
Niña didn’t respond.
Angel padded over to her bed and sat down on the top bunk, the mattress creaking softly.
A beat passed.
Then another.
The movie continued playing, but Niña’s thoughts weren’t with the characters. She could feel Angel’s presence. Feel her not looking at her, which somehow made it worse.
She thought—for a split second—of offering.
Of saying, “Gusto mo nood ka?”
But her pride swallowed the words.
Then:
“Anong pinapanood mo?” Angel’s voice broke through the silence.
Niña blinked.
She looked over just as Angel’s head peeked down from the top bunk.
“Wala, disney movie lang,” Niña said, showing the screen.
Angel tilted her head. “You haven’t watched that one?”
“Comfort movie,” Niña said, voice flat. “Ilang ulit ko na ‘to napanood.”
Angel hummed. Then there was a beat. A shift in weight.
“Pwede bang maki-nood?” she asked, gentle but casual, like she didn’t just drop a mini bomb.
Niña stared at her, blinking once.
“…Okay lang.” She scooted slightly, barely enough space for Angel but not too obvious.
Angel climbed down carefully, sitting at the edge of Niña’s bed, one leg tucked under her.
They didn’t say much.
They didn’t need to.
Niña stared at the screen, hyper-aware of the warmth next to her. Angel leaned just close enough to see, just far enough to pretend it was nothing.
It wasn’t much.
But to Niña?
It felt like too much.
And to Angel?
What the hell was she even doing there?
If anything, she didn’t even watch animated movies that much.
Let alone, invite herself to watch something with a complete stranger?!
The night dragged on, and the other two roommates didn’t come back at all.
The movie ended, and Angel had already fallen asleep halfway through.
Niña never realized—too much of a wimp to look over.
She slowly got up from the bottom bunk bed, leaving Angel asleep and unaware.
Niña stared for a moment, admiring the girl. But then she felt weird doing that, so she walked off quickly with her iPad in her hands.
She slowly climbed up to the top bunk, careful not to make it creak. Angel’s top bed—still a mess of bags—was clearly untouched, and Niña just prayed that Nica really did sleep over at Bienne’s.
She peeked over the edge.
Angel was still asleep, curled gently at the edge of Nica’s lower bunk.
Niña took another few seconds to admire the peaceful face below her.
Then she snapped herself out of it.
Pulled the blanket over her.
Told herself to sleep.
For once, Niña didn’t have to scroll through Instagram, or lurk on Twitter, or pretend to stumble upon Angel’s TikTok page—just to catch a glimpse of her face.
Because Angel was right there.
Not through a screen. Not in filtered pixels.
But in the quietest form of reality—fast asleep, just beneath the bed Niña lay on, breathing softly like the night itself had found someone worth slowing down for.
Training the next day came quickly. It was the first day, after all.
The sharp blast of a whistle echoed through the gym.
“Let’s go, warm-up laps!” one of the coaches called out, clipboard in hand.
Shoes squeaked against the hardwood floor as two teams filled the court, stretching out the stiffness from a night of barely any sleep.
Niña was lacing up her shoes in a corner, brows furrowed.
“Grabe ka,” she said flatly, not even looking up. “’Di ka talaga bumalik.”
Nica, beside her, just grinned sheepishly. “Ang sarap ng kama ni Bienne, promise.”
“Ah, gano’n,” Niña replied, still not looking at her, “Na para bang hindi pare-parehas yung mga kama natin lahat?”
“Uy,” Nica nudged her, “wag ka na magtampo. Gusto mo sunflowers? Tsaka Sting? Pancit canton?”
Niña finally looked up, eyes squinting like she was considering it. “Sunflowers, no. Sting, no. Gusto mo ba ako mamatay?” Niña says exaggeratedly, raising an eyebrow at her.
“Pancit canton?… Sige.”
“Deal,” Nica beamed, and Niña tried to hold in her smile—but failed.
Across the court, Amie was dealing with her own version of a cold shoulder.
“You didn’t come back,” Angel said bluntly, arms crossed as she did slow calf stretches.
Amie raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me? That was your idea!”
Angel scoffed. “I said jog. Not brush your teeth and then disappear into thin air.”
“I was giving you space!” Amie defended, clearly enjoying herself. “May movie night kayo ni Ytang, ‘di ba?”
Angel’s face scrunched. Right. Kinwento agad ni Angel while they were on the way here. “We didn’t plan anything—she was already watching something. I just—sat there.”
Amie raised both eyebrows. “And fell asleep on her bed?”
Angel shot her a look. “First off, Nica’s bed, not hers. Second, I hate you.”
“Love you too so much,” Amie grinned, skipping off to join the stretches.
Angel shook her head, muttering something under her breath as she walked to the other side of the court.
But her gaze still wandered to the other side.
Specifically—to the girl with her hair tied up, now jogging slow laps with Nica, laughing softly like she didn’t make Angel lose sleep last night.
But to be fair, it wasn’t really Niña’s fault.
Niña never asked Angel to stay.
Never asked her to sit so close the air felt different.
Never asked her to keep herself awake just to watch something she personally wouldn’t watch in her alone time, just to feel the warmth of someone who barely knew her.
And yet, Angel stayed.
And that was what haunted her the most.
Kailangan ko bumawi.
Warm-up continued. Jogging, stretches, mobility drills.
And yet the air between the two teams was thick with something… else.
Maybe it was competitiveness.
Maybe it was pride.
Or maybe it was something a little harder to name.
Because Angel could feel Niña’s presence more than she should. Even when they weren’t anywhere near each other. Even when they weren’t looking. It was there—in the way they both held eye contact just a second too long during a pass, or in the way Angel subconsciously straightened her back when Niña entered her peripheral vision.
Niña was trying not to look. She really was.
But every time Angel’s laugh echoed from across the gym, she felt it in her ribs. And she hated that she did.
The captains huddled with the coaches, setting the tone for the day. After that, both teams lingered along the sidelines, hydrating, mentally preparing.
Angel took a sip from her bottle.
Niña adjusted her knee pads.
Their eyes met for a moment across the gym.
Neither smiled.
Neither looked away immediately either.
So this is what we’re doing, Niña thought.
Fine.
Angel blinked once. Turned back toward her team.
Let’s see how well she plays when I’m actually watching.
And with that, training began.
The gym echoed with the rhythm of fast-paced drills—volleys flying, sneakers squeaking, coaches yelling cues. The air was thick with sweat, energy, and something else entirely.
Angel Canino stood across the net from Niña Ytang. Opposing teams, but one shared goal.
Well. Sort of.
They hadn’t said much all day—not since the awkward night before. But they hadn’t exactly ignored each other either.
“Watch the middle!” one of the coaches barked.
Angel moved first. Quick set, clean takeoff.
Niña read it too late. Angel’s spike cut through the block with precision.
“Nice one!” Amie called from the backline.
Angel tried not to glance, but her eyes flicked across anyway. Niña was already fixing her ponytail, pretending not to care.
But Niña felt that glance. It made her fingers twitch.
Next rotation. Niña got her chance. A clean slide play—fast, aggressive, impossible to block. Angel didn’t even jump. The ball landed square on the court.
This time, Niña did glance.
Angel raised one eyebrow, then cracked a half-smile.
It was childish. It was competitive. It was… definitely something.
It made Niña feel something.
Ganito pala pag relevant na sa isang Angel Canino. Niña managed to joke inside her head.
Finally, the whistle blew. Water break.
Niña headed to the corner, grabbing her towel. Before she could even sit down, someone plopped beside her.
“Yo,” Bienne said, casually tugging her headband off. “Solid block kanina.”
Niña smiled a little, cheeks still flushed. “Thanks.”
“She’s good, no?” Bienne said, tilting her head toward Angel. “Canino?”
Niña didn’t answer right away. She just sipped from her bottle. She knew Bienne was teasing her anyway.
“I mean,” Bienne added, grinning, “parang kayo lang dalawa nasa net kanina eh.”
Niña rolled her eyes. “Hindi naman. Just… competing.”
“Right,” Bienne said, amused. “I’m sure it’s just that.”
From across the court, Angel was also catching her breath when someone suddenly appeared beside her—Shevana.
“That was… intense,” she said in her usual calm tone.
Angel looked at her sideways. “What?”
“Your drills. That spike earlier. You really aimed for her.”
Angel snorted. “No, I didn’t.”
Shevana raised an eyebrow. “It’s okay. I get it. You wanna win.”
Angel didn’t reply.
Shevana offered a small grin. “She’s strong though. I like the way she moves.”
Angel didn’t even try to hide the eye-roll that time. “You just got here. Don’t act like you’re scouting already.”
“I’m just saying,” Shevana said with a light shrug. “You two have chemistry.”
Angel blinked. “On the court, you mean.”
“Sure,” Shevana said with a grin, already walking away.
Meanwhile, Nica had wandered over to Niña and Bienne.
“Break pa ba kayo?” she asked, casually taking a seat on the floor in front of them.
“Konti pa,” Niña said, tossing her towel over her shoulder.
Bienne leaned back on her hands. “Mukhang masaya itong camp, ah.”
Nica grinned. “Masaya talaga pag andito yung DLSU, no?” She teased.
Niña just raised an eyebrow while Bienne smirked. “Joke lang, wowo.” Nica followed.
Niña chuckled lightly, but her eyes—briefly—searched the gym again.
Angel was already walking back to the center court, Amie nudging her about something neither Nica nor Bienne could hear.
And for a moment, things felt… fine. No tension. Just competition.
At least, that’s what they told themselves.
The dorm room was quiet that night.
Nica was fast asleep on the bottom bunk, her arm draped lazily over the edge. Amie, across the room on the other bottom bunk, had one leg kicked out from under her blanket, her phone still lit in her hand, but her soft snoring gave her away.
Angel lay on the top bunk above Amie, earbuds in—but no music played.
She hadn’t hit play in over fifteen minutes.
Her head was turned toward the other side of the room. Toward the other top bunk. Toward Niña.
Niña was sitting up, back against the wall, blanket wrapped around her legs. She had her own pair of earphones in, one hand supporting her chin, eyes staring into nothing.
Not a word had been exchanged between them since earlier.
There was no fight. No reason, really. Just a mutual hesitance. A weird tension neither of them had the guts to acknowledge.
Angel sighed through her nose. Her fingers curled around the earphones in her lap.
She had to say something.
Then, like some weird telepathic cue, Niña shifted—just slightly—and her eyes flicked toward her.
Their eyes met.
And Angel took her chance.
She sat up slowly, careful not to make the bed creak. “You’re not sleeping yet?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Niña shook her head, pulling one earphone out. “Hindi pa. You?”
Angel lifted her useless earphones. “Trying. Pero tahimik sobra.”
Niña nodded once.
Another silence.
Then Angel added, “May utang pa pala ako sa’yo.”
Niña blinked. “Ha?”
Angel looked at her, more sure now. “Kagabi. Natulugan kita, diba? Bawi ako ngayon.”
Niña’s lips twitched like she was about to smile, but she just raised a brow. “Paano?”
Angel reached for her phone, opened her Spotify, and held up one of her earphones like a peace offering. “Introduce ko sa’yo music taste ko.”
Niña stared at the earphone, then at the phone.
But after a second, she unplugged her own, set her phone aside, and scooted over just enough to make space on the bed. She patted the mattress, eyes flicking toward Angel and then away again.
Angel didn’t hesitate this time. She climbed down her bunk as quietly as possible and made her way over, climbing up Niña’s ladder, heart pounding louder with each step.
Angel had won medals, trophies—shiny proof of battles fought and won.
But how could a simple moment—just stepping closer to someone—feel like the greatest prize of all?
Like the kind of victory that made her heart race and her breath catch,
an award no shelf could ever hold.
They sat side by side, shoulder to shoulder on the small top bunk.
Angel offered the other earbud again.
Niña took it, slowly.
Their hands brushed.
Niña pretended it didn’t happen.
Angel pressed play.
The first song was from Cup of Joe. Mananatili.
Niña glanced at her.
Angel wasn’t looking.
Niña looked away.
Angel tried to catch her gaze again, but Niña didn’t look back.
“Not your type?” Angel teased softly.
Niña finally met Angel’s eyes, and for the first time—tonight, this week, this year, this decade, this endless stretch of time—they held each other’s gaze like a secret whispered only between stars.
In that suspended moment, the world softened, the air around them shimmering with quiet wonder—
as if time itself paused just to watch their eyes speak the words their lips couldn’t say.
Niña looked away, hugging her knees as if to steady her heart, pretending to focus on the music.
Angel frowned slightly.
“Maganda naman siya. My type.” Niña glanced up after, a shy smile brushing her lips.
“Yung music?” Angel grinned, teasing.
Niña laughed, awkward and bright, like her heart was about to burst.
“Baliw, oo, yung music.” She swore she saw Angel’s eyes light up when she laughed.
Maybe it was just her imagination.
“Hm, okay.”
Angel slid down, leaning her back against the wall.
Every few seconds, she stole a glance at Niña.
It wasn’t much.
Not a full conversation.
But in the dim glow from the hallway light slipping under the door, with earphones shared and breaths growing soft and even, the silence between them softened—less distance, more electricity waiting to spark.
As one song bled into the next, their bodies inched closer—barely noticeable,
but close enough for Angel to quietly rest her head on Niña's shoulder.
And suddenly, the quiet between them spoke everything.
Mananatili sa iyong tabi magdamag
Ating paligid, hindi na natin napapansin
Gabi ay atin, kasabay ng puso at tugtugan