Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The late afternoon sun filtered lazily through the windows of the school library. It was that familiar hour—just past dismissal when the corridors were quieter, the air a little stiller, and the only sounds that remained were the low murmurs of students finishing projects or gossiping over their phones, hoping to stretch their time before heading home.

In the far corner of the library, tucked away behind a fortress of math textbooks and half-drunk iced coffee cups, sat Aiah Arceta—top of her class, president of the student council, and unofficial queen of academic patience.

Across from her, in a posture that could only be described as “selective effort,” was Jhoanna Robles. Slouched in her seat, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, and pencil spinning aimlessly between her fingers, she looked more like a student in detention than someone actively seeking help.

Which, to be fair, wasn’t entirely wrong.

Their tutoring sessions had started at the request of one very tired math teacher and one very persuasive mother. Aiah had reluctantly agreed, on the condition that if Jhoanna missed more than two sessions, she was off the hook.

It was one of their who-knows-how-many sessions. Aiah suspected Jhoanna kept showing up just to annoy her.

Always.

And maybe... a small, shameful part of her didn't entirely mind.

Aiah tapped her pen against the worksheet between them, breaking the silence.

“It’s very simple,” Aiah said, tapping her pen against the question paper with the kind of restrained patience only saints and overachievers possessed. “You bring 78 to the right side. Add it with the number given, and then divide the total by x. That’s how you find the value of x. Gets?”

She leaned back, eyes flicking up to Jhoanna, fully expecting the younger girl to at least pretend to try. Instead, she was met with that maddening look—head tilted just slightly to the side, both hands tucked under her chin like she was posing for a portrait, lips curled into a lazy, deliberately amused smile.

Aiah sighed, her patience thinning. “Jhoanna,” she said, her voice already heavy with warning.

“I’m listening,” Jhoanna replied with faux innocence, even fluttering her lashes a little. “I just… don’t get it.”

Aiah’s grip on the pen tightened. She placed it down with a soft, deliberate click, not out of calm—but to keep herself from throwing it across the room.

“Maybe,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “you’d understand better if you stopped staring at me like I’m a limited edition anime figure you’re trying to win from a claw machine.”

Jhoanna’s grin widened, unapologetic. “I don’t even like anime,” she said. Then after a beat, “But if I did… you’d still be my favorite character.”

“Oh my god,” Aiah groaned, dragging her hand down her face as she resisted the urge to either laugh or scream. “You’re literally impossible.”

“If I don’t get it now,” Jhoanna said, leaning back in her chair, “then I probably never will.” Her tone softened into something mockingly tragic. “You might as well accept it, Arceta. This is my fate.”

Aiah crossed her arms, studying the girl across from her—messy bun barely holding itself together, wearing a hoodie two sizes too big, shoelaces untied, and yet sitting there with the confidence of someone who believed the universe bent slightly in her favor.

And maybe it did. Aiah hated how that thought didn’t feel entirely wrong.

“You’re not getting out of this,” Aiah said, voice flat. “So tell me, Jhoanna Robles. What do I have to do to make you study?”

A pause. 

It was subtle at first—the slight lift of Jhoanna’s shoulders, the shift in her gaze from teasing to thoughtful, almost... intentional.

The air around them seemed to thicken, like even the walls were leaning in.

Then, with the kind of smirk that had made Aiah’s heart skip one too many times over the years, Jhoanna leaned back, propping one elbow on the desk and said, casually, almost lazily—

“Date me.”

Aiah blinked.

Boang.

The words dropped like a stone in water—sudden, loud in its silence, and rippling far beyond their little study corner.

Somewhere two tables away, a freshman girl gasped audibly. Another dropped her pencil.

Aiah didn’t move.

She stared at Jhoanna, eyes wide, lips parting slightly. “You’re joking.”

“Not really,” Jhoanna said with a shrug. “You asked what would make me study. Well, there you go.”

“Jhoanna,” Aiah hissed, her voice low. “You can’t just—”

“Say what I want?” Jhoanna interrupted, blinking innocently. “But I just did.”

Aiah scoffed, half out of disbelief, half because she didn’t know what else to do with the way her pulse was suddenly thrumming in her ears. She picked up the worksheet and shoved it across the table toward Jhoanna.

“Finish the damn questions. I need to go home before dinner.”

“Aww, you didn’t say no~,” Jhoanna sings, already reaching for her pen, the grin on her face stretching just wide enough to be unbearable.

“I didn’t say yes either.”

“But you’re thinking about it.”

Aiah didn’t respond. She just glared at her notebook, willing her heartbeat to calm down.

But there it was again—that small, traitorous twitch at the corner of her mouth. A smile she didn’t want to admit was there.

She hated how that grin got to her.

And even more, she hated how Jhoanna knew.

*

It was supposed to be a normal day.

The kind where students mentally checked out during class while the teacher droned on, and Aiah could sip from her water bottle while checking the exam papers. The kind where chaos was manageable.

And then it happened.

A shrill voice cut through the classroom like a blade.

“JHOANNA ROBLES! WHAT IS THIS??”

The entire room fell into stunned silence. Even the electric fan at the corner seemed to hesitate mid-spin.

Heads turned. Eyebrows rose. Gasps were stifled.

Aiah stood up from her seat, fuming, her hand trembling ever so slightly as she held up a crumpled piece of paper like it was a crime scene exhibit. Her eyes blazed. Her jaw clenched.

Jhoanna, halfway through shoving her books into her bag, blinked up slowly, as if she’d just been rudely awakened from a pleasant nap.

She tilted her head. “Huh?”

Aiah stormed toward her, paper gripped like a weapon. “Ano na naman 'to? You got a zero.”

Jhoanna squinted at the sheet, recognizing her neon green name at the top—written in her typical messy bubble letters and beside it, drawn in what looked like a red gel pen, was…

An egg.

A literal egg.

With stick legs and a smug expression.

“Oh hey!” Jhoanna chirped. “That’s my test paper!”

“Bakit na sayo ‘to?” She reached for it like a proud artist reclaiming her masterpiece, flipping it open to reveal more doodles in the margins. “Look! I drew a unicorn too.”

The class leaned in.

It looked more like a llama going through something existential, but the horn was there. Points for effort.

Aiah’s hands twitched. If not for Stacey and Sheena rushing to her side, she would’ve probably launched the paper at Jhoanna’s forehead.

“Kalma, Ate Aiah—kalma” Stacey whispered, gripping Aiah’s shoulder.

“She’s not worth jail time,” Sheena added helpfully.

Across the room, Colet and Mikha moved like seasoned riot control, quickly pulling Jhoanna a few feet back and out of Aiah’s striking range.

“You got zero, Jho. Zero.” Aiah seethed, knuckles white. “How do you even manage that? We literally went over this yesterday with highlighters. And diagrams. And visual aids!”

“I wanted it to be a perfect zero,” Jhoanna replied, completely unbothered. “You know. For aesthetic.”

Aiah stared at her, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Aesthetic?” she repeated, voice cracking slightly.

Jhoanna smile widely. “Symmetry is important to me.”

“I—” Aiah’s eyes twitched.

Behind her, Stacey whispered to Sheena, “Do you think now’s a good time to call the ambulance?”

Shenna nodded solemnly. “Or the school priest.”

Aiah took a deep breath. Then another.

And then—she went still.

Too still.

Everyone in the room froze, because if there was one thing more terrifying than an angry Aiah, it was a quiet Aiah.

She turned the paper over. Folded it in half. Then in half again. Her movements were meticulous.

“I see,” she said, her voice deathly calm. “Of course. Of course you got a zero. Wouldn’t be Jhoanna Robles if you actually passed your math test.”

She turned on her heel with a hair flip worthy of a k-drama finale and began walking toward the door.

And then—

“Wait.”

The voice wasn’t teasing this time.

Aiah paused, one foot already out the door.

“What if…” Jhoanna said, her voice suddenly louder, clearer, “What if I get a perfect score on the next one?”

The classroom gasped. No one even tried to hide it.

Jhoanna Robles—known less for her grades and more for her antics. A playful, effortlessly charming student who coasted through classes with a grin, a joke, or a doodle in the margins of her test papers. The kind of girl who never seemed to take anything seriously—especially not school.

Jhoanna Robles had just dared Aiah Arceta. Out loud. In front of everyone.

Aiah slowly turned, eyebrows raised, arms crossed.

“Ikaw?” she said, eyeing Jhoanna like she’d just declared a war.

Jhoanna didn’t back down. For once, the usual mischief in her face was tempered by something quieter—not shy, but sincere. She met Aiah’s gaze directly, standing straighter than usual, like the challenge actually meant something.

“Yeah,” she said. “If I get a perfect score… will you go out with me?”

A stunned silence settled.

Aiah opened her mouth, closed it, then stared at Jhoanna for a beat too long—searching, maybe, for the usual sarcasm in her tone, the cheeky glint in her eye.

But it wasn’t there.

Jhoanna looked serious. Annoyingly, heart-poundingly serious.

Oh god, Aiah thought. Why does she always sound sincere when she’s being ridiculous?

She exhaled slowly, and allowed herself a small smirk.

“Perfect Score?” she said, eyes sharp, voice smooth. “And I’ll date you.”

Then she walked out, leaving stunned classmates and devastated fan girls in her wake.

Behind her, Jhoanna whispered to herself with a victorious grin, “Yes!!”

*

Two Months Later

“ATEEEEE AIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

A terrifying scream tore through the house, followed by the sound of someone running up the stairs like a stampede. Aiah, who had been perfectly cocooned in the sanctuary of her blanket fortress, let out a deep groan from under the covers.

It was Sunday.

The holy day of sleep-ins, snacks, and absolute silence.

She tugged her oversized Nemo plush tighter against her chest, desperately trying to block out the chaos. This was her morning. This was not supposed to involve Jhoanna freaking Robles. And yet—

“ATE AIAH, WAKE UP!!!”

The door slammed open with the subtlety of a hurricane, and Jhoanna walked in like she was auditioning for a disaster movie.

“WAKE UP WAKE UP LOOK LOOK LOOK—LOOOOOOOOOOOOOK!!!” she screeched, jumping up and down at the foot of Aiah’s bed.

Aiah cracked one sleep-heavy eye open, just in time to see a blur of dark hair, flailing arms, and way too much morning energy. With a dramatic sigh, she grabbed the nearest weapon—her beloved Nemo plush and hurled it at the intruder’s face.

It bounced off Jhoanna’s forehead with a soft plop.

Unfazed, Jhoanna caught it mid-bounce and hugged it to her chest like a trophy. “Aw, he missed me.”

Aiah groaned again, her voice annoyed. “Ano ba?!”

Without missing a beat, Jhoanna threw herself down onto the mattress beside her and shoved a piece of paper in her face like it was the winning lotto ticket.

“Look! LOOK!!” she said again, vibrating with glee.

Aiah blinked at the paper. The words were blurry. She could barely make out the lines, let alone read the—

Wait.

Big, red numbers at the top. Bold. Underlined. Circled twice in dramatic red loops.

100/100

She sat up like a vampire rising from the grave. “What the hell… is this?!”

“The test paper!” Jhoanna declared proudly, wiggling it in front of her like a flag.

Aiah blinked again, trying to piece her thoughts together. “That test was last Friday. Today is Sunday. Did you—did you break into the faculty office?!”

Jhoanna scoffed. “No, of course not. Ano akala mo sakin member ng Akyat Bahay Gang.”

Aiah narrowed her eyes.

“Okay. I went to Ms. Castro’s house.”

“You, what?”

“She lives two blocks away and well, she likes me!” Jhoanna defended quickly. “She gave me a copy because she said, and I quote, ‘You worked hard for once, Jhoanna. I want to witness the miracle myself.’”

Aiah looked back down at the paper.

Jhoanna Robles. Perfect Score. In math.

She had to reread it at least three more times just to make sure her sleep-deprived brain wasn’t projecting hallucinations onto the page.

Jhoanna grinned beside her, practically vibrating with anticipation.

“See? No unicorns this time. No eggs. No doodles. Just math. Clean, correct, terrifyingly adult math.”

Aiah stared at her. Blinked.

Then shoved the paper back into Jhoanna’s chest and slumped back into bed.

“Congrats,” she muttered. “Now can I go back to sleep?”

The silence that followed was so offended, it was almost loud.

“WHAT?! NO! DID YOU FORGET YOUR PROMISE??” Jhoanna wailed, flopping dramatically onto the bed.

Aiah groaned. “What promise?”

“THE PROMISE,” Jhoanna said, voice pitching higher. “You said if I got a perfect score—which I did, by the way, in case you missed the literal proof in your hand—you’d go on a date with me!”

Aiah blinked. “I said that?”

Jhoanna propped herself up on one elbow, pouting. “You did. And I remember every detail. You were wearing that oversized cardigan you think hides your stress but doesn’t, and your hair was tied in that tiny clip like it was barely holding on to your will to live. And I said, ‘If I get a perfect score, date me.’ And you said—” She paused for dramatic effect. “—‘Perfect score and I’ll date you.’”

“I really study hard for this, Aiah.”

Well, the truth is. 

The younger girl wasn’t stupid.

Contrary to popular belief—and her test scores—she wasn’t actually bad at math. Not really. Numbers didn’t scare her. Equations didn’t taunt her in her sleep. She just never cared enough to sit still long enough to solve them.

It started the night after the dare.

The moment Aiah walked out of the classroom, that teasing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth and that smug, sarcastic “Perfect score and I’ll date you ,” echoing in Jhoanna’s head like a song stuck in a loop—something in her clicked.

Something quiet. Dangerous. Determined.

So she went home and opened her math book.

Then closed it after five minutes because, God, it was boring.

But the next day, she opened it again.

She didn’t tell anyone. Not even her friends. Especially not Aiah.

Instead, every day after class, she started staying a little longer in the library. Not in her usual spot where she could annoy the girls from class 3-C or dramatically fall asleep on her notes. No, she started sitting near the back. Quiet. Hidden. Alone.

At first, it was a disaster.

She spent twenty minutes on a single equation, chewing the end of her pencil like it had wronged her in another life.

“Why are there so many letters in math?” she muttered under her breath one evening, flipping her workbook upside down as if the answers might reveal themselves in reverse. “If I wanted this much drama, I’d take literature.”

But she didn’t stop.

She brought sticky notes in neon colors and started labeling formulas with song lyrics so she could remember them better.

“‘a² + b² = c²’... you plus me equals love triangle,” she whispered one night, giggling at her own stupidity. “Okay, no—focus, Jho. Focus”

There were nights she fell asleep on her textbook. Days she forgot to eat lunch. Even weekends where she chose to review instead of go to the arcade with Colet and Mikha.

She didn’t tell Aiah. Not when they passed each other in the hallway. Not when Aiah narrowed her eyes during tutoring and muttered, “You’re just not trying.” Not even when she wanted to scream, I am! You just don’t see it yet!

Instead, Jhoanna just smiled.

Grinned. Flirted. Deflected.

Because this? This was hers.

Every formula she memorized. Every problem she broke down. Every night she stayed up with highlighters staining her fingers and math videos playing at 0.75x speed just so she could follow along—

She did it all for Aiah.

But also, a little for her.

Because when she’d get that 100%—not if, but when—she wanted Aiah to see it.

She wanted Aiah to feel it.

Not just as a joke. Not just as a flirtation.

But as proof.

Proof that Jhoanna Robles could give effort. 

Could commit, cause God! She was in love with her best friend.

Aiah’s mind flashed back. The study session. The teasing. The fan girls gasping. Her sarcastic smirk.

“Oh,” she said softly. “Right.”

“So?” Jhoanna’s voice was tentative now, “Are you gonna keep your promise or what?”

Aiah stared at her, half-buried in her blanket, sleep still clinging to her bones. This girl had actually done it. Studied. Focused. No chaos.

And all because she asked her to.

“Okay,” Aiah said at last, flopping back and dragging the blanket up over her head again. “Sure. I’ll date you. Mark it on your phone or calendar or... whatever cheesy thing you use. I’m going back to sleep now.”

She rolled over with a yawn.

Behind her, Jhoanna let out a high-pitched squeal of triumph and immediately whipped out her phone. “Siri, schedule a date with Aiah Arceta. Add sparkles. Triple exclamation points. Alert me ten times before.”

“You’re insufferable,” Aiah mumbled.

“And now I’m officially your problem,” Jhoanna sang.

The room fell quiet again—for about three seconds.

Then Aiah felt something behind her. A small frown tugged at the corners of Aiah’s lips as she felt the duvet shift beside her, the unmistakable sensation of someone crawling into her bed. 

Moments later, a pair of familiar arms wrapped around her waist, gently pulling her against a broad, warm chest.

She didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

Jhoanna Robles.

Her childhood best friend and soon to be her girlfriend.

The title still felt oddly new, yet not entirely foreign—as if her heart had been preparing for it all along. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and somehow, hearing it in her mind didn’t feel strange at all.

Still, she chose not to acknowledge her just yet. Let the younger girl cling to her in silence.

Let her pretend, just a little longer, that her heart hadn’t already softened the moment she felt her embrace.

“…Jho.”

“Yeah?”

“Is that your leg?”

“Nope,” Jhoanna said far too quickly. “Hehe.”

Aiah groaned into her pillow. “You’re such a liar.”

“Correction,” Jhoanna whispered smugly against her neck, “I’m your soon to be girlfriend now.”

And Aiah didn’t deny it.

She just let her eyes fall closed, heart steady and warm.

For once, peace didn’t mean being alone.

It meant this.

It meant her.

Chapter Text

“So, what does it feel like to finally date your best friend?”

“Mmm, okay lang.”

“Okay lang? Wow. And here I was thinking I was the best thing to ever happen to you.”

“You are. I’m just not giving you the satisfaction.”

“Grabe, so mean.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, Aiah hehe”

They didn’t mean to fall into rhythm.

But somehow, they did.

After their final test. After the dare that shook the whole class. After the agreement that turned them from best friends into something more—not quite with fireworks, not with a kiss under the stars, but with the soft, trembling breath of something new.

And just like that, everything shifted.

Whispers started slow, at first. The usual hallway chatter.

“Wait, are they, like, actually together now?”

“They’ve always been close, but this is different, right?”

“Jhoanna hasn’t flirted with anyone else all week—either she’s dying or in love.”

“Nah, they’re probably just faking it. You know Jhoanna, she never get serious."

At first, it felt surreal, like pretending. Like they were playacting a version of themselves that only existed in the corners of shared glances and unsaid what-ifs. Like they’d stepped sideways into a daydream neither of them had dared admit they wanted.

Their friends noticed, even if they didn’t say anything outright. The way Aiah laughed more now. The way Jhoanna looked at her like the world narrowed down to just that moment. Like Aiah was a constellation only she knew how to read.

It was obvious.

“So, kailan pa naging kayo?” Stacey demanded at lunch, slamming her milk carton on the table like she was about to stage an intervention. “At bakit hindi mo man lang sinabi agad?”

Aiah calmly peeled the lid off her lunch box. “Three weeks ago.”

“Well, in my defense, si Jho ang ayaw ipasabi.”

“At bakit? Siraulo yun, ah.”

“She wanted others to figure it out on their own, daw .”

“Wow! Pero kung makadikit at harot siya sayo, parang hindi na kailangan i-figure out. Teh, sobrang obvious! You’ve been best friends for years, and now you’re suddenly girlfriends, and you didn’t think that was worth mentioning?”

“Grabeng pagkakaibigan naman pala 'to.”

Aiah finally looked up. “Wag kang OA. Mag-best friend pa rin naman kami.”

“Uh-huh. Mag-best friend nga, pero with benefits na?” Stacey raised an eyebrow, leaning in. “Kasi girl, I saw her feeding you grapes like some ancient Roman empress.”

Aiah sighed. “It was one grape.”

“With eye contact,” Stacey pointed out. “And she wiped your mouth after. With her bare hand. That’s not friendship. That’s foreplay.”

“Can we eat in peace?” Aiah muttered, stabbing her rice. “Or do you wanna narrate our love life to the whole cafeteria?”

“Honestly? Yes.” Stacey grinned. “This is the most exciting thing to happen this semester.”

“You need a hobby.”

“I have one. It’s making sure you don’t emotionally combust because your girlfriend has no concept of subtlety.”

“She has... moments.”

“Girl. She kissed you in line at the registrar.”

“Okay, that one was her being impatient. She said I looked too cute to wait.”

Stacey covered her face, groaning. “Aray ko po, in love ang bading.”

Across the room, Jhoanna was sitting backwards on a chair, talking animatedly to two of her friends about how sine and cosine were basically proof that opposites attract. She caught Aiah’s eye mid-rant, grinned wide, and mouthed “hi babe” from across the canteen.

Aiah turned back to Stacey.

“She’s annoying,” she said, poking at her rice. “But she’s mine now.”

“Tsk. Malala ka na rin,”

But, of course, it was only a matter of time before the whole school knew about them.

It didn’t matter that neither of them had posted anything online. 

It didn’t matter because true to Stacey’s word, Jhoanna had never been subtle a day in her life.

Not when she shoved Aiah’s reviewer into her bag and called it “a love language.”

Not when she dropped the line “I’m dating a genius now” at least seven times in the classroom.

And definitely not when she sat on Aiah’s desk during break and declared—loud enough for three tables to hear — “Guys, please be honest: do I look more intelligent now that I’m dating someone whose brain is shaped like a TI-84?”

Aiah hadn’t even blinked. Just looked up from her notes and said, flatly, “That’s a calculator, not a compliment.”

“You’re the one who makes math sound hot,” Jhoanna had replied, beaming. “I’m just adapting, Aiah-babe”

The younger girl still calls her by made up names like she always had, loud enough for their classmates to turn. Still slung her arm over Aiah’s shoulder during breaks like she owned the space. Still poked at her in the study group with her pen and that annoyingly smug smile when she got a math problem.

And while Aiah rolled her eyes like always, she didn’t argue. She didn’t shove her off the desk. She didn’t hide the way their knees were lightly touching beneath it. 

On the surface, everything looked the same.

But Aiah felt the difference.

She felt it in the way Jhoanna started sitting just a little closer than before, legs brushing beneath the desk like it was nothing. In the way her teasing had softened—still annoying, still relentless, but laced now with affection that sat warm in Aiah’s chest instead of on her nerves. In the way her gaze lingered, not bold or cocky, but quietly saying, I love you, I’m always here.

They’re best friends.

But they were something more now.

And that something was delicate.

Aiah, ever the skeptic, ever the realist, kept waiting for the cracks to show. Kept waiting for the part where things got messy, complicated, hard. She wasn’t good at new . She wasn’t used to wearing her heart somewhere anyone else could see it. She’d always been sharp edges, straight lines, tightly folded emotions.

But Jhoanna was chaos wrapped in sunshine. She had a way of slipping past Aiah’s defenses like she belonged there—like she’d always known where the door was. And now that they’d crossed that invisible line between friendship and something else, she didn’t hold back.

Jhoanna would take Aiah’s hand in the middle of the hallway like it was the most natural thing in the world. Would lean her head on Aiah’s shoulder during breaks, humming some nonsense tune, like she hadn’t just disrupted Aiah’s concentration for the fifth time. Would send texts that read like declarations of war one minute and declarations of love the next.

[u up? also if i die of boredom in this class pls cry at my funeral and tell everyone i was pretty]
[also ily. like. annoyingly much.]

And Aiah, against all odds, didn’t roll her eyes at those anymore. Not really.

She’d smile. Just barely. Just enough to hide her crazy heart from beating so fast. 

Now, she would walk Jhoanna home, even when they're like five houses apart only, Jhoanna insisted she didn’t have to. She said it was for “safety,” but neither of them believed that. She started saving the last piece of cheese bread—the one Jhoanna always pretended not to care about but always reached for anyway. 

She started staying quiet in the moments that felt too big for words, letting her hand rest on Jhoanna’s knee during study sessions, She would let the younger girl stay longer, even when there was no more studying to be done—just quiet music and shared silence and the occasional half-laughed story about their chaotic classmates or letting her thumb gently brush over Jhoanna’s knuckles while waiting for class to start.

And maybe that was what falling in love with your best friend felt like. Not a plunge, but a slow unfolding. A series of small shifts—stolen glances, quiet warmths, the way your name sounds different coming from their mouth, like it holds a secret no one else gets to hear.

It wasn’t perfect, but it definitely made everything better.

Still, life kept happening. And so did they.

Now that they are in a relationship, they study together every weekend. Without fail.

It wasn’t something they ever officially agreed on. No schedules were drawn, no promises made. But somehow, like clockwork, by late Saturday morning, one of them would show up at the other’s door—sometimes with coffee, sometimes with snacks, always with textbooks and a kind of soft expectancy neither of them ever dared name.

The sun was just starting to set, spilling gold through the blinds of her room, when the door clicked open without warning.

“Aiah-babe!” Jhoanna called from the hallway.

“Here!”

“I knocked twice!”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I imagined knocking! That counts!”

Aiah sighed but didn’t argue. She already heard her slippers shuffling down the hall. Moments later, Jhoanna poked her head in, holding a paper bag up like a peace offering.

“Guess what?”

Aiah didn’t look up from her desk. “You bought cheese bread again.”

“Okay, rude,” Jhoanna said, stepping inside. “It’s actually a different bakery today. New brand. And it tastes like emotional security.”

“I already have that,” Aiah muttered, flipping a page in her book.

Jhoanna walks and drops the bag beside her. “You’re so cute when you pretend you’re unaffected.”

That made the older girl look up—finally.

Before Aiah could respond, she felt a pair of hands gently cup her face. It happened so fast—one blink, and Jhoanna was already leaning in. Then, soft lips met hers in a quick, unexpected kiss.

It was soft—quick enough to pass as nothing, but somehow it left a warm, buzzing imprint behind.

The older girl blinked, but the way her eyes slowly softened for half a second—just enough to betray how familiar this chaos had become. How Jhoanna slipping into her space didn’t feel like an intrusion anymore. Just… natural.

Aiah was still trying to recover from the sudden kiss when Jhoanna flopped onto her bed like she hadn't just driven her insane.

“You know everyone’s talking about us, right?” she said casually.

“Mm.”

“They think I’m gonna break your heart.”

Aiah paused. “You won’t.”

Jhoanna sat up, caught off guard by how quickly that answer came. “You sound so sure.”

Aiah turned fully toward her now, pen still resting between her fingers. “Because I know you.”

That shut Jhoanna up for once.

It was strange, being the quieter one now. Known for being the loudest person in the room—excited, dramatic, high on the thrill of finally being with Aiah after years of pining, teasing and pretending.

But here? In this moment?

She didn’t know what to say.

Aiah stood, walked over, and handed her a bottle of water from her desk. Then, calmly, sat beside her.

“You’re loud,” she said, almost fondly. “And dramatic. And so bad at whispering it’s painful.”

“Thanks?”

“But you don’t lie. And you don’t back out once you start something.”

Jhoanna blinked. Her throat felt tight in a way that had nothing to do with the bread.

Aiah leaned her head against the wall, their shoulders just barely touching now.

“I didn’t say yes because of the dare,” she added. “I said yes because you meant it.”

Jhoanna stared at her.

Then quietly, almost like a confession: “I’m terrified.”

“I know.”

“I’ve never… done this. Like, really done this.”

“You’re doing fine.”

Jhoanna exhaled, long and slow. “You’re really not gonna let me be the dramatic girlfriend, are you?”

“Nope.”

“You’re so mean.”

“And yet,” Aiah said, smiling slightly, “you keep coming back.”

Jhoanna flopped sideways until her head landed in Aiah’s lap.

“I’m so in love with you,” she mumbled into her thigh.

Aiah didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached down, gently brushed Jhoanna’s face, and said:

“I know.”

But love, no matter how warm, doesn’t mean perfect.

They had their first real fight as a couple. The kind that didn’t start with shouting—but silence. The kind that crept in slowly, sharp in all the wrong places.

It started with something small. It always does.

A missed call,  forgotten promise, and a sigh too long, or a smile too forced.

Jhoanna had always moved through life like the world would catch her if she tripped. She had this brightness—this chaotic, untamable ease about her that people either envied or leaned toward instinctively. She laughed even when things didn’t go her way. She shrugged off stress like it was optional. And when something did hurt, she buried it beneath jokes and charm and too-loud music.

Aiah, on the other hand, carried weight like it was stitched into her bones.

She felt pressure like gravity—constant, quiet, inescapable. The pressure to do well. To hold herself together. 

To never falter.

To always, always be the composed one.

And lately, that pressure has been piling higher than usual.

Deadlines. Expectations. Family obligations she didn’t talk about. A thesis draft she had rewritten three times. A scholarship renewal hanging over her like a countdown clock.

She’d been overwhelmed. Exhausted. Stretched too thin.

And Jhoanna, in all her sunlight and softness, didn’t seem to get it.

She’d show up unannounced. Bring snacks. Try to pull Aiah into conversations when she was clearly trying to focus. She meant well—God, she always meant well—but her version of support felt like noise to someone already drowning.

“You’re acting like this is the end of the world,” Jhoanna had joked one night, sprawled on Aiah’s bed, flipping through her planner like it didn’t contain half a dozen things Aiah was losing sleep over.

“It feels like it,” Aiah muttered, not looking up.

Jhoanna laughed—too light, too unaware—and said, “You need to chill. Take a break for once.” And that—somehow, unfairly—was the match.

Aiah slammed her pen down. “You think I don’t want to take a break? You think I’m doing all this because I like being stressed out?”

Jhoanna sat up slowly, blinking. “That’s not what I said—”

“No,” Aiah cut in, voice sharper now. “But it’s what it feels like. Like you don’t take anything seriously. Like you get to float through life and I’m the one who has to make sure everything doesn’t fall apart.”

There was a pause. The kind that stretches.

Jhoanna’s jaw clenched—something rare. She stood, slowly. “That’s not fair.”

“Well, neither is having to carry everything alone.”

And just like that, the quiet broke. Not into screaming—but into space. Distance.

They didn’t yell. That wasn’t their way.

But the silence after—the thick, cold kind—settled between them like a wall.

Jhoanna left not long after, without another word.

Aiah didn’t ask her to stay.

That night, they didn’t text.

No funny memes.

No “made it home safe.”

No goodnight.

It felt wrong. All of it.

And the worst part was—they weren’t even mad. Not really. They were hurt. Misunderstood.

Both feeling like the other wasn’t listening.

Jhoanna, who had only wanted to make Aiah breathe.

Aiah, who had only wanted someone to say “I know it’s hard. I’m here.”

But they hadn’t met halfway.

They stood at opposite ends, waiting for the other to move first.

Because love, no matter how soft, doesn’t make you immune to collision. Especially when one person lives in sunshine and the other in storm.

And somewhere between the laughter and the notes, the naps and the cheesy bread, they had forgotten that even the quietest love needs to be navigated.

That night, their rhythm faltered.

And for the first time, it didn’t feel like them. But somehow—they found their way back to each other.

***

3 years later.

“Congratulations, everyone!”

The crowd erupted in cheers as caps were tossed in the air, diplomas clutched tight against graduation gowns, and relief shimmered in the summer heat. Laughter echoed through the school grounds. Someone popped a party popper too early. Someone else already cried—twice.

Stacey screamed over the noise, hugging everyone she could reach. “We actually made it! We survived!” she sobbed dramatically, clinging to Mikha like they were at the end of a war.

Meanwhile, Jhoanna spun Aiah in a circle, arms thrown around her like she’d won a lifetime achievement award. “Look at us, Aiah-babe!” she grinned, breathless. “We’re officially done with college and still somehow dating. Statistically, we’ve beaten the odds!”

“And I got an Award!” Jhoanna added triumphantly, lifting her tiny certificate above her head like a trophy.

Aiah rolled her eyes but didn’t fight the hug. “Yeah. Perfect attendance. That’s a weird thing to brag about.”

“I’m just saying!” Jhoanna pouted. “Four years of academic chaos and I showed up every single day  Even when I was emotionally unstable! Even when you broke my heart over a failed quiz!”

Aiah shrugged. “You deserved it. You always forgot we had a quiz.”

“And yet!” Jhoanna flailed her arms. “Here I am! Graduated. In love. Award-winning.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And unforgettable,” Jhoanna shot back.

They stood together near the edge of the crowd, hands laced without thinking, pressed shoulder to shoulder. There was music playing somewhere, too many people talking all at once—but for a second, it all blurred around them.

Until Jhoanna suddenly stepped back like she’d remembered something important.

Too important.

“Babe. Stay here. Don’t move.”

Aiah raised a brow. “Why—what are you—?”

But Jhoanna was already bolting toward her friend group with the chaotic energy of someone on a mission.

“Oh. Saan pupunta si Jho?” Maloi suddenly asked.

“I don't know,” Aiah said flatly. 

Two minutes later, Jhoanna returned—but now she was suspiciously fidgety. She adjusted her gown, cleared her throat unnecessarily loud, then clapped her hands together.

“Ehem. Attention, everyone!” she called out, raising one hand dramatically like she was making an announcement at prom instead of graduation.

Heads turned.

Stacey ever the OA one audibly gasped.

Aiah squinted. “Jho…”

“I know we’re all crying and stuff,” Jhoanna continued, her voice already cracking. “And we all got cool medals and awards, and Aiah got, like, six—”

“Five,” Aiah corrected automatically.

“Okay, nerd. But anyway, I have something I need to say.”

Then—she dropped to one knee.

Gasps spread like wildfire. The crowd quieted in record time. Aiah’s heart stopped.

“I know this is ridiculous,” Jhoanna said, laughing nervously as she rummaged through her pocket, clearly struggling. “Hold on, it’s in here somewhere—I swear I put it in this pouch thing…”

Aiah’s eyes widened. “You better not be doing what I think—”

“WAIT! I found it!” Jhoanna pulled out a tiny velvet box—no, wait, not a box. A clear plastic capsule from a gacha machine. She cracked it open and revealed…

A candy ring pop.

The crowd actually “aww’.”

Jhoanna held it up like it was priceless. “Aiah Arceta,” she began, “my best friend, my math tutor, my person, and my girlfriend—will you continue to date me even after college? Will you… date me through job interviews? Through—God forbid—adulthood?”

Someone in the background sniffled. Mikha whispered, “She’s so real for this.”

Aiah was frozen. Her hands covered her mouth. Not because she was overwhelmed—well, not entirely—but because she was trying so hard not to laugh. Jhoanna’s face was redder than the tomato. Her voice shook. Her knees were shaking.

And yet, somehow… It was perfect.

“You’re seriously proposing with a ring pop?” Aiah finally managed, voice barely holding steady.

“I was going to use a friendship bracelet but Stacey said that’s not romantic enough!”

“Jho,” Aiah whispered, already smiling.

“I’m just—look. I know this is cheesy. But I want you to remember today. Not because we wore silly hats or sang the graduation song off-key. I want you to remember that we made it. And I still choose you.”

A beat of silence.

Then Aiah stepped forward, helped the younger girl to stand up and plucked the ring from her hand.

“I’ll wear this ring—and probably eat it,” she said, slipping it onto her pinky with exaggerated grace. 

“But I’m only saying yes if you reach nine digits in your bank account.”

“HUH? Seryoso ba?”

“Until then, I’m keeping this one.” Aiah reached for Jhoanna’s hand, slipped off her old ring, and put it on her own finger.

“And also if you agree that you’re buying me real food after this.”

“Deal.” 

“And—”

Jhoanna didn’t let her finish. She jumped up and wrapped her arms around her, hugging her like she didn’t care who saw.

“I love you,” Jhoanna whispered, voice muffled against her shoulder. “In every timeline.”

Aiah exhaled softly. Closed her eyes.

“You’re so annoying,” she muttered—but didn’t let go. “I love you too.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other as their classmates swarmed around them—laughing, screaming, celebrating.

Because somehow, in the middle of all the chaos, Jhoanna Robles had found the quietest, loudest way to say forever.

And Aiah?

Well—she said yes.

With a ring pop on her finger and a heart that already knew the answer long before the question.

“But can we make it to seven digits instead? Nine is too much.”

“Shut up. Eight and that’s it..”