Chapter Text
The red ink screamed 97/100 at the top of JL Gaspar’s test paper.
Almost perfect. Almost.
He stared at it like it was personally mocking him. Three points. Tatlong puntos na lang, panalo na sana ako.
And then, like salt on a fresh wound, came the sound of a smug chuckle.
“Gaspar,” Park Han drawled, voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Second place ulit. Consistent ka talaga. Parang Jollibee spaghetti—never number one.”
The class snorted. JL’s eye twitched.
“Wow,” JL shot back, gripping his pen tight. “Congrats ha. Perfect ka na naman. Sana all, walang social life, puro review lang.”
Han leaned back in his chair, wearing that infuriating half-smile. “At least ako may first place. Ikaw? May perseverance. Alam mo yung mga contestants sa It’s Showtime na laging pan-second round? Ganun ka.”
The room erupted. JL nearly combusted.
“PUTA—Han!” he hissed, ears flaming. “If sarcasm could kill, matagal na kitang pinaglalamayan!”
Han raised an eyebrow, smirk deepening. “Eh bakit buhay pa ako? Baka kasi deep down… you enjoy this. Crush mo talaga ko no? Aminin mo na Gaspar.” he snickered fully enjoying how his rival's ears turned a deeper shade of red.
“Enjoy?! Crush?! Kapal mo talagang yawa ka!" JL practically shouted. “Han, ano bang trip mo? Hobby mong mang-asar kasi bored ka sa buhay? Ganun na ba kawalang saysay yang buhay mo kaya ako pinag t-tripan mo?” JL retorted obviously annoyed. Pikon na nga siya kasi hindi ulit siya yung highest mas napikon pa siya sa kahambugan ng katabi niya.
“Hindi hobby,” Han said smoothly, leaning closer until JL could smell the faint scent of his cologne. “Specialty. At ikaw lang ang target.”
What the fuck?! JL’s brain short-circuited. He's not sure if it's because of what this asshole has said or their close proximity and how his whole system reacted to him.
From the back, Juwon groaned loudly. “Putangina, parang teleserye na naman ‘to.”
“Swear,” Shuaibo added, biting back laughter. “Han, JL—mag-kiss na lang kayo. Sayang ang build-up!”
Woongki cupped his hands like a megaphone. “Walang iwanan! Walang bitawan!”
Daisuke deadpanned, “Honestly, parang BL pilot episode na. Sino may camera?”
The whole class cackled. JL slammed his paper on the desk, face red enough to rival a tomato.
“Hindi kami—hoy! Tangina niyo, wala kayong ambag! Mga kaibigan ko ba talaga kayo??”
While Han? Han just chuckled, his gaze never leaving JL’s flustered expression. Enjoying every reaction that came from the younger
–
The cafeteria was alive with noise—clattering trays, laughter bouncing off the tiled walls, the smell of fried chicken and sinigang hanging heavy in the air.
JL slammed his tray onto the table, the plates rattling dangerously. His barkada jumped.
“PUTANGINA NG KUMAG NA HAN NA YUN!”
Everyone at the table looked up. Woongki almost choked on his rice. Shuaibo blinked slowly. Daisuke didn’t even flinch, just kept chewing.
“Uy, relax!” Woongki pulled his soda closer to safety. “Anong kasalanan na naman ng tao?”
“Kasalanan niyang humihinga siya! Kasalanan niyang nabuhay pa siya!” JL snapped, stabbing at his rice like it owed him money.
Juwon snorted, covering his mouth with his hand. “Hala, soafer galit ni beh. Grabe na to ang bitter na beh.”
“I’m not bitter!” JL shouted, pointing his spoon like a dagger. “Kanina, quiz results. Ninety-seven ako. Tatlong puntos na lang, panalo na sana! Tapos, ayan na siya, naka-perfect. Hindi pa nakuntento, ginawa pa akong punchline! Sa harap ng lahat! Para bang—” He flailed with his spoon, nearly flinging a chunk of rice across the table.
“Hoy, careful!” Shuaibo shielded his food. “Sayang ang kanin!”
“Para bang ano?” Woongki prompted, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Para bang hobby niya akong pahiyain!” JL’s voice cracked with frustration. “Every single time, ako ang target. Like—why me?! Bakit hindi ibang tao?! Ao bang ginawa ko para targetin ako ng leche na yun”
“Eh kasi ikaw lang din naman yung pumapatol. Pikon mo kasi masyado ayan tuloy tuwang tuwa si loko sayo,” Juwon pointed out, grinning. “Kung hindi ka sasagot, walang show.”
JL glared. “Show? This isn’t a show! This is psychological torture!”
“Psychological torture daw o, si OA” Shuaibo laughed, clapping. “Parang may special segment kayo.”
“Special segment?!” JL nearly stood up. “Tangina niyo, wag niyo akong gawing skit!”
“Eh kung hindi ka special,” Daisuke said calmly, spoon pa rin sa bibig, “bakit lagi ka niyang pinapansin?”
JL’s face heated. “Hindi ako special. Hindi! He just—he just hates me!”
“Sure ka ba d’yan?” Woongki asked, leaning forward with a grin. “Kasi parang iba yung vibe. Yung tipong… alam mo na.” he said with a glint of mischief adoring his eyes.
“Alam mo na, ano?” JL demanded.
“Alam mo na…” Shuaibo drawled. “Na baka crush ka.”
The entire table erupted in laughter. JL slammed his spoon down, face burning red. “Gago! Stop saying that! Kilabutan naman kayo! Crush?? Ako?? More like punching bag na gusto niya i crush!”
And as if summoned by the gods of timing, a familiar voice cut in—smooth, mocking.
“Well, well.”
The table went dead quiet. JL froze, blood turning to ice. Slowly, like a man facing a firing squad, he turned his head.
There he was. Park Han. Tray in hand. That same insufferable smirk plastered on his face. His barkada—Steven, Jeongwoo, Chihen—trailed behind him, already chuckling like they knew what was about to go down.
“Gaspar,” Han said casually, eyes sharp with amusement. “Wala ka bang ibang topic? Lagi na lang ako. Nagkita pa lang tayo kanina miss mo na agad ako? Don't worry baby, sayong sayo lang buong attention at mga pang aasar ko."
The barkada exploded.
“Shuta, lakas ng timing!” Woongki howled.
“Swear, may radar talaga ‘yan kay JL,” Juwon wheezed.
Shuaibo slapped the table, tears streaming. “May bat-signal siguro siya, naririnig pag name-drop mo!”
JL’s face flamed. “Leche ka! Hindi ikaw ang topic ko! Kaya pwede ba?!”
Han placed his tray on the table across from JL, sitting down deliberately, like he had all the time in the world. “Kung hindi ako topic…” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, eyes never leaving JL. “…bakit ako lagi ang laman ng bibig mo?”
JL opened his mouth, then shut it. Opened it again. No words came out.
“Oishi mic drop,” Daisuke muttered, shaking his head.
“Walang depensa!” Woongki cheered.
“Checkmate! Huli ka balbon!” Juwon bellowed.
The cafeteria echoed with laughter.
JL’s ears burned so hot he thought they might combust. “PUTANGINA NIYONG LAHAT!”
Han just smirked, finally digging into his chicken, perfectly calm while JL practically vibrated with rage. Every now and then, Han would glance up, just enough to make JL twitch.
“Stop looking at me!” JL hissed.
“I’m not,” Han replied smoothly, chewing. “You’re just in the way.”
“IN THE WAY?! EXCUSE ME??" JL nearly stood up. His barkada had to pull him back down before he launched across the table.
“Beh, kalma,” Juwon said between laughs. “Baka ma-ban ka sa cafeteria.”
“Park Han!” JL growled. “One day—ONE DAY—I will beat you. And when that happens, I swear, hindi na ako papayag na gawin mo akong joke.”
Han looked at him, eyes glinting, smile curling like he’d already won. “We’ll see, Gaspar. We’ll see.”
And just like that, JL’s blood boiled hotter than the sinigang still steaming on his tray.
--
The library was cold. Not just the kind of cold that came from air-conditioning turned up too high, but the heavy, prickling kind—the silence, the pressure, the weight of every eye that would cut into you if you so much as breathed too loud.
JL marched inside, shoulders tense, his irritation from lunch still simmering under his skin. Han’s face—smirking, taunting, unbothered—flashed in his mind over and over. He gripped the strap of his bag harder. Not this time. Hindi na ako papayag na laging second place. Today marks the start of his downfall.
At the counter near the front, the clipboard for the quiz bee participants lay waiting. JL snatched the pen with more force than necessary, scribbling his name down until the tip nearly ripped through the paper.
“Wow.”
That voice. That awfully familiar voice.
JL’s entire body went rigid. Slowly, like a man realizing he’d just summoned a demon, he turned.
And there he was. Lo and behold. Park Han.
Han leaned casually against the counter, tray of borrowed books in one hand, lips curled into that insufferable smile. “Gaspar, careful. Baka mabutas mo yung papel. Galit ka ba sa ballpen?”
JL dropped the pen onto the clipboard with a sharp clack. “Han. Not here.”
Han tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Not here? Eh saan? Cafeteria? Classroom? Hallway? Gaspar, anywhere you are, nandun din ako. Susundan kita kahit san ka pumunta baby."
JL clenched his teeth. “Tangina mo talaga. That’s exactly the problem.”
Han smirked, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Or maybe that’s the thrill.”
The librarian—an older woman with steel-rimmed glasses—looked up sharply from her desk.
“Shhh!”
JL flinched, bowing his head quickly. Tangina naman. Kahit dito, stress pa rin ako.
He turned back to Han, keeping his voice low. “Thrill? Ikaw, thrill? Please. You’re more like a headache I can’t get rid of. Para kang libag na di ma alis alis sa katawan ko. Kaya pwede ba?"
“Headaches are unforgettable,” Han replied smoothly, his grin soft but razor-sharp. “Also, grabe Gaspar gusto mo na agad akong kumapit sa katawan mo? I'm too young for that, pero if you insist baka I'll consider. " He said mischievously while wiggling his eyebrows.
JL’s eyes widened. “You—”
“Shhh!” The librarian’s glare sliced at them again.
Han chuckled quietly, stepping back just enough to look innocent. JL wanted to punch that laugh straight out of him.
Han reached for the clipboard, his handwriting clean and elegant as he signed his name directly beneath JL’s. He tapped the paper with the pen, handing it back with a flourish.
“Always right behind you,” Han murmured.
JL’s stomach flipped, though he refused to admit why. “Stalker vibes. Congrats.”
Han only smirked. “Or destiny. Either works.”
JL’s ears went hot. No. Nope. Not even gonna process that.
He spun on his heel, storming toward the shelves to hunt for a book to distract himself. He reached up toward the higher shelf, stretching his arm.
A hand appeared beside his.
JL froze. Slowly, he looked to his left. Han, of course, was reaching for the same book, his shoulder brushing against JL’s.
“Seriously?!” JL hissed.
Han leaned slightly closer, pretending to squint at the titles. “What? Same Educational taste tayo pareho. Destiny na talaga yung naglalapit satin, babe.”
“Destiny mo mukha mo—” JL muttered, snatching the book before Han could.
“Possessive,” Han teased, eyes gleaming. “Cute.”
“Shut up!” JL hissed, his face flushing red.
From the corner between the shelves, four heads popped out. Shuaibo, Woongki, Juwon, and Daisuke—half-hidden, whispering like giddy spectators.
“Bro, ang kapal ng tension,” Woongki whispered, trying not to laugh.
“Parang any second, magbabanggaan na sila ng labi,” Juwon wheezed.
“Kung hindi lang library, sigaw na sigaw na sila,” Shuaibo added.
“Ang immature,” Daisuke muttered. “Pero entertaining.”
JL felt his ears burn hotter, knowing exactly what his so-called friends were doing. He shoved the book against his chest and glared at Han.
“One day, Han. Mark my words. I’ll beat you. And when I do, tapos na ‘tong circus na ginagawa mo.”
Han’s smile curved, unreadable, almost soft. “Looking forward to it, Gaspar.”
JL stormed off, his barkada scattering to follow behind him, leaving Han standing by the shelves with his calm grin, as though he had orchestrated every move from the very beginning.
--
Han watched JL storm off, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. Predictable. But endearing.
“Bro.”
He turned his head. Steven had materialized from the next aisle, arms crossed. Behind him, Jeongwoo carried a stack of books like he’d been pretending to study, while Chihen leaned against the shelf with his usual poker face.
“You’re pushing it again,” Steven said, though his grin gave him away.
“Pushing what?” Han asked innocently, sliding his hands into his pockets.
“Si JL,” Jeongwoo supplied helpfully, his eyes bright with mischief. “Kanina pa sumasabog yung tenga niya sa pula. Kung lalong tumagal yun, baka nagka-nosebleed na siya sa inis.”
Chihen finally spoke, his tone dry as desert sand. “Hindi lang inis yung nakita ko.”
Han raised a brow. “Oh? Pinagsasabi mo, Chih.”
Chihen’s expression didn’t change. “Interest. Konti lang. Pero nandun.”
Jeongwoo nearly dropped his stack of books from laughing. “Tangina, ‘interest’ daw! Alam mo ba ibig sabihin nun, Han? May spark!”
Han smirked, feigning ignorance. “Spark? Kanino? Kay Gaspar? Impossible.”
Steven nudged his shoulder, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Teka nga… bakit si JL lagi target mo? May ibang tao naman na puwede mong i-bully, pero parang lagi siyang number one choice mo.”
Han didn’t answer right away. He simply leaned against the shelf where JL had been seconds ago, his fingers brushing the spine of the book JL had grabbed. He traced the edge absentmindedly, his smirk softer this time.
“Because he reacts,” Han finally said.
“React daw,” Jeongwoo repeated, snickering. “Understatement of the year. Bro, he doesn’t just react. He combusts.”
“Exactly,” Han murmured.
Steven whistled low. “Dude. Kung hindi kita kilala, iisipin kong may crush ka talaga sakanya.”
For the first time, Han’s smirk faltered just slightly—quick, almost invisible, but his friends caught it.
Jeongwoo’s jaw dropped. “WAIT. Don’t tell me—”
“Shhh.” The librarian’s death glare speared them from her desk.
The four of them immediately ducked their heads like scolded kids, muffling their laughter.
When the coast was clear, Chihen was the first to speak, voice calm, deliberate. “You did not deny it.”
Han met his gaze, smile curling back into place—sharp, practiced, unreadable. “I don’t need to deny anything. Especially not to you three.”
But as he walked off, trailing behind JL’s stormy exit, Steven elbowed Jeongwoo and whispered:
“Confirmed.”
Jeongwoo grinned ear to ear. “Enemies to lovers arc na ‘to, pre. Nakikita ko na.”
Chihen adjusted his glasses, deadpan as ever. “Wala pang lovers. Puro enemies.”
“Give it time, bibigay rin isa sakanila. Ilan pusta?” Steven said. Han zoned out the noise of his friends reminiscing the frustrated and irritated look on JL just a while ago. He can't help but to smile at the taught of having that effect on the younger.
As they trailed out of the aisle, Jeongwoo suddenly chuckled, remembering JL’s flushed face, the way his ears turned beet red.
“Pero guys, aminin niyo…” Jeongwoo grinned, hands gesturing animatedly. “Ang cute ni Gaspar kanina.”
Steven blinked. “Huh?”
“Yung nagpipigil siya sumigaw tapos namumula na parang kamatis?” Jeongwoo mimed fanning his cheeks. “Bro, ang adorable.”
Steven snorted. “Tangina, parang nanonood ka ng romcom.”
Chihen, without looking up from the book he was flipping through, added flatly, “He did look… animated. Para siyang cartoon.”
Jeongwoo gasped. “O diba? Even Chihen agrees! Confirmed cute si JL!”
That’s when Han stopped walking.
The playful smirk slipped, replaced by a look sharp enough to cut glass. His tone was even, but carried a dangerous edge.
“Watch it.”
The other three froze. Jeongwoo blinked, confused. “What? I was just saying—”
Han’s eyes narrowed, his voice low. “I know what you said. Just shut the fuck up.”
The air shifted, subtle but heavy. Steven raised his brows, exchanging a look with Chihen, who simply closed the book in his hands and gave the faintest shrug.
Jeongwoo, ever oblivious, tried to laugh it off. “Okay, okay! Chill, bro. Defensive much?”
Han’s smirk returned, but this time it was thin, practiced—one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I don’t share my toys.”
Steven let out a low whistle. “Yow, what?.”
Jeongwoo finally caught on, eyes widening. “Wait. WAIT—”
“Shhh!” the librarian hissed again from her desk.
The four ducked their heads, but this time, Steven and Chihen were quietly grinning to themselves, while Jeongwoo mouthed a silent OH. MY. GOD. at the realization.
Han just walked ahead, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable—but the quickened pace of his steps betrayed him.