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When she enters the apartment, Mihan is sprawled on the couch, guitar in hand, strumming the chords to a familiar song. She hums instead of sings, but Charlie knows the words.
I wanna believe in everything that you say
'Cause it sounds so good
But if you really want me, move slow
There's things about me you just have to know
She wrinkles her nose. "Britney Spears?" Charlie asks.
Mihan looks confused at the question. "Ha?" She strums a few more chords before replying. "MUNA."
Charlie's face clears. Of course , she thinks. She sits down on the couch and nudges Mihan's shoulder with hers.
"Sabi mo sa text, SOS. Ano meron?"
She knows it's serious when Mihan puts down the guitar before sitting back. She doesn't speak for a bit, but when she finally breaks her silence, her voice is tentative.
"Sa tingin mo ba, if I make a move … I'll have a chance?" Mihan asks.
Charlie short-circuits.
She and Mihan have always been … easy. Safe . In their very volatile circle of friends, she's the one Charlie can turn to when she needs quiet. Kit -- Kit is also relatively easy to figure out, but she's not safe , by any means. To be honest, in Kit's way lies madness. And Hannah …
She takes a deep breath. Thinking of Hannah makes her already confused brain all the more muddled, because she's never quite been able to make sense of all the looks and moments and words that they share.
Besides, one problem at a time. She looks at Mihan, and takes the plunge.
"Make a move on … me?" Charlie asks, delicately.
It takes a second, but then Mihan laughs. Charlie doesn't know if she should be insulted or relieved.
"Ano ba, siyempre hindi," Mihan says.
Charlie decides that she's insulted. She rolls her eyes. "Grabe kang maka-siyempre hindi," she mutters. "Be more specific kasi."
At her words, Mihan visibly slumps. "Feel ko kasi wala akong chance," she says, still in that tentative tone.
"Kanino nga? Ano ba."
Mihan raises her gaze to hers. "Kay Hannah," she says.
Charlie short-circuits again.
"Ah," she says faintly, "Kay Hannah."
She, too, slumps against the couch. Her thoughts are awry, a mile a minute in her brain, and she doesn't quite know how to answer. Belatedly, she realizes that Mihan is still talking.
"Na-realize ko na finally," Mihan is saying. "Parang last week lang nga eh. Alam ko na medyo weird -- she's one of my best friends -- pero it just makes sense. It makes sense to me."
Charlie nods.
"And naisip ko na ikaw tanungin ko, kasi you're close din, 'di ba?"
"Yeah," Charlie says. "Yeah, close din naman kami."
"So," Mihan speaks again, "Ano sa tingin mo?"
Charlie thinks of Hannah -- of the soft way she looks at her, when she thinks she doesn't notice. Of the messages in the middle of the night, just to check up on her. Of the random visits, because she's "bored." Of the photos they have together that she never shares in their group chat, for reasons unknown.
Charlie thinks of Mihan -- of the easy, comfortable way they interact on stage, of the way their voices meld together. Of long nights writing songs, making music, coming up with lyrics that make sense only to the two of them. Of the photo of the two of them -- her with her arms wrapped around Mihan from behind -- that she stuck at the back of her guitar.
She thinks of them -- Hannah and Mihan, Mihan and Hannah, together. She thinks of the songs they've written recently -- and she wonders.
Charlie realizes she's been silent for a while. When she turns to Mihan, there's a worried expression on her friend's face. Quickly, she reaches out for her hand.
"Sa tingin ko," she says, "You should go for it."
***
A week later, she sees Hannah and Mihan sitting together after one of their gigs, their foreheads touching, their smiles matching each other.
She tries to smile.