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AUTHOR’S NOTES:
Since it’s Halloween, here’s a fantasy-ish inspired SteJay fic. I have not been able to update any of my other fics because I joined the SteJay OPM ficfest, which has taken up most of my time. I couldn’t resist writing this one, though!
There will be some Filipino words/phrases throughout the story.
If the text is in italic, it’s thoughts.
It started with a walk JL told himself he needed.
Just a few minutes of silence after rehearsal. But his phone keeps buzzing inside his jacket. One ring, two, three, then silence. He doesn’t look because he already knows who is calling.
Steven.
Mamaya na, swallowing a sigh. Just… I can’t right now.
The streets are strangely empty tonight, but he likes it. It’s the only time when everything slows down and the noise finally fades. He tells himself he just needs to unwind, get some fresh air. But deep down, he knows he’s running from the way Steven always lingers around him.
A hand on his back when he’s quiet too long.
A jacket draped over his shoulders before he even says he’s cold.
A corny joke whispered just to pull a laugh out of him.
All the small, ordinary ways that make it harder not to fall.
It’s confusing.
Ano ba talaga tayo, Steven Kim? Ang hirap mainlove sa’yo… Kasi bawat ngiti mo, may kasamang tanong kung totoo ba ‘to o baka ako lang nakakaramdam.
He kicks at a puddle, annoyed at himself for even thinking about it. Steven’s probably still at the studio, waiting for him. And here he is, walking these emotions off like that’s going to help. He stops at a crosswalk, waiting for a light that’s perpetually stuck blinking from red to green, and back again. He laughs quietly to himself.
Of course, kahit ‘yung ilaw confused.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, a flicker. Something faint at the end of the street.
A sign. Old and rusted. CAFÉ 0:00 — OPEN TONIGHT ONLY
JL frowns. “Huh?”
He swears that the store wasn’t there yesterday. The wind shifts, carrying a faint scent of something warm, comforting, almost nostalgic.
Weird. Pero parang... ang sarap ng amoy.
He takes a hesitant step forward, sneakers splashing in a shallow puddle. The closer he gets, the clearer the sound of soft jazz becomes. He reaches the door, which was painted black, with windows that see inside, and a small gold bell hanging above it.
JL hesitates to open it. His hand hovering over the handle.
“Gusto ko lang makita ‘yung loob,” He murmured. “Then I’ll go straight back home.”
The door creaks open on its own. A wash of light spills out. The air smells faintly of roasted coffee beans, orange peel, and the scent of rain. The bell above the door gives a soft chime welcoming him. He hesitantly steps inside.
Wow. The place feels like a dream.
Hundreds of tiny lights are strung across the ceiling, twinkling like stars. Ivy and dried flowers climb along the railings, spilling in tangled vines. Glass bottles line the shelves behind the bar, glinting amber and honey.
Somewhere, a gramophone is playing an old jazz tune. It crackles as if even the music is from another time.
Pop-up kaya ‘to? Parang hindi ‘to normal na café. Bakit ngayon ko lang ‘to napansin?
And that’s when he notices someone behind the counter, turning slightly toward him, smiling like they’ve been waiting all night. JL’s breath catches.
“Steven?”
The name escapes before he can stop it. The man tilts his head, still smiling.
“Welcome. You look like you could use a drink.”
The voice. It’s exactly the same, even the Australian accent.
JL blinks and rubs his eyes. He’s still there. The man is still there. But he can’t be Steven, because he left Steven in the rehearsal studio. Also, he’s not wearing what Steven wore today. This man’s wearing a black shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
Okay, JL. Either pagod ka lang kaya nakikita mo si Steven kahit saan, or panaginip lang ‘to at nakatulog ka somewhere.
He clears his throat, trying to hide the nervousness.
“Uh… do you guys serve coffee?”
The man nods.
“We serve what you need.”
“Right,” JL mutters. “So… where’s the menu?”
The man gestures toward a small chalkboard propped on the counter. JL steps closer. There are only five written, looping, and elegant, in white chalk.
TO KNOW, TO FORGET, TO FORGIVE, TO BEGIN, TO REST
JL reads the list twice.
Parang ang weird naman ng café na ‘to.
He glances at the man behind the counter, then asks, “Is there no matcha latte or iced americano?”
The man just gives him a soft smile. “Each cup is different. It gives what you need most.”
JL crosses his arms. “And what if what I need is to stop thinking?”
The man nods once, like he’s heard that before. “Then you already know what to order.”
JL looks back at the board. To Forget. It feels safe.
“Okay,” he mutters. “Let’s go with To Forget then.”
The man turns away, hands moving with practiced ease. He reaches for an old silver kettle, its handle worn, and pours hot water over finely ground beans in slow, perfect circles. No rush. No hesitation… like he’s done this a thousand times before.
JL sits down at the counter, elbows resting on the polished wood. Up close, the resemblance of him to Steven is uncanny. They have the same fox eyes, small nose, and sharp jaw. Even the way he rolls up his sleeves feels familiar, veins faintly catching the light.
He swallows. No way. Hindi talaga pwede.
The man hums under his breath. Not a tune JL recognizes, but it’s something Steven would do without realizing. He stirs once, twice, then wipes the rim of the cup with a clean paper towel before setting it gently in front of him.
When the cup slides toward JL, it’s pale gray, almost silver, with a faint shimmer on the surface, like moonlight caught in water.
“Drink while it’s warm,” the man says.
JL hesitates. Drink lang naman, ‘di ba?
He glances around. There were no other customers, no sign of anyone else working here. Sana hindi poison. Or setup. Or weird scam na mananakawan ako after.
He exhales, shaking his head at himself. Ang OA mo, JL. It’s just a drink.
Then, before he can second-guess again, he takes a sip and gasps.
The taste surprises him. It’s so sweet at first, comforting in the way sunlight feels on skin, then suddenly the warmth drains out of it, and so does the sweetness. The flavor collapses into emptiness, like music cut off mid-note.
He blinks.
The café lights around him soften, colors melting together like watercolors. In the reflection of the cup, something begins to ripple—
Steven’s voice, low and steady after a tough practice. You did well today, Yence. Steven’s hand on his back, steady and warm but electric. Steven running across the street to the café, wallet in hand, because JL forgot his. Steven teasing him, grinning over a plate of pancit canton at 3 a.m. And then Steven again, smiling at him. His eyes soft and unguarded.
Each scene plays like a loop of memories, familiar, ordinary. The kind you don’t realize are precious until you start losing them. Then the memories begin to dissolve into the liquid, one by one, until the surface smooths out.
A strange quiet settles in JL’s chest. Peace, maybe. Or nothingness. For a moment, it almost feels good not to feel anything at all. Then panic hits.
“Wait! No… stop!”
He sets the cup down hard. The sound rings through the café, loud, sharp, but the man doesn’t even flinch. JL’s chest rises and falls too fast, like he just ran a mile.
He stares at the man. Up close, the resemblance is impossible to ignore. But there’s something off about this person. He’s too still. Too perfect. He looks like Steven, but is not really Steven.
“Shit,” JL mutters under his breath. “Para akong naghahallucinate.”
He looks down at the cup again, heart thudding. The shimmer is gone, the surface dull like oxidized metal. His reflection wavers for a second before settling back into place.
He glances up. “Okay… seriously, what’s inside this?”
The man’s voice stays patient. “You asked to forget.”
“Huh?”
“The drink gives you what you asked for, and you asked to forget.”
“Not everything!”
JL swallows hard. Okay, JL, pagod ka lang. Or baka naparami ng kape. Or this is just some weird lucid dream. He rubs his temples, half-expecting the room to fade, but it doesn’t.
He exhales sharply. “You know, this drink is not exactly relaxing.”
The man gives a small, knowing smile. “Forgetting rarely is. People think peace comes from erasing, but it usually just leaves a hole.”
JL looks back at the cup again. “So that’s it? That’s what it does?”
“That’s all forgetting ever does,” the man says quietly. “It dulls the edges for a while… until you realize you never wanted to forget in the first place.”
After a long pause, the man wipes the counter and asks, in a gentle tone, “Would you like to try a different one?”
“What, like... another round?”
The man gestures toward the chalkboard. The next word eerily glows. To Begin.
JL lets out a shaky laugh. “You’re really upselling me, huh?”
“You’d be surprised how many come here for a second cup.”
JL glances at the board again. His fingers twitch against the counter. He doesn’t answer yet. Just sits there, the taste of sweetness and loss still clinging to his tongue.
The man waits, unbothered by JL’s silence. This time, he pours a liquid that glows faintly, slow and patient, like he already knew JL would stay. The drink has a yellow-orange hue with streaks of blue swirling through it—the color of a sunrise fighting its way out of the night.
JL watches, mesmerized. He almost says no, but his hands betray him, fingers curling around the warm glass.
“Another weird flavor?” he asks.
The man’s smile doesn’t change. “You could say this one’s for those who don’t know what to do or how to start.”
JL huffs out a breath. “Story of my life.”
He lifts the glass. The scent hits first, a mix of citrus and honey, with a hint of smokiness underneath. Parang may halong kaba? He takes a sip.
The warmth rushes in too quickly, spreading up his chest, and suddenly his pulse spikes. It isn’t comfort this time. It’s fear. A sharp, breath-catching kind, the same one that always grips him when he almost says what he feels but stops at the last second.
The man looks at him, curious. “How do you feel?”
JL laughs shakily. “Right now? I feel… scared. For no reason.”
“Hmm, not for no reason. Fear shows up when you’re about to cross a line.”
“Then why does it feel like it’s trying to stop me?” JL replies, pressing a hand against his chest.
“Because that’s what it does,” the man says gently. “Fear pretends to protect you, but most of the time it only keeps you from moving. It whispers that staying still is safer, when really it just stops you from finding out what could change.”
JL’s brows draw together. “What could it change, anyway?”
“Maybe nothing,” the man says. “Or maybe everything. You’ll never know until you stop letting fear answer for you.”
Everything? Parang ang bigat naman nun.
The man nods toward the cup. “Take another sip.”
JL does.
The bitterness softens, giving way to brightness. The drink now tastes like the first deep breath after crying. The café feels wider and lighter; the air somehow seems easier to breathe.
JL smiles faintly, surprised. “Okay, it’s getting… better.”
“Sometimes,” the man says, voice low, “you just have to let the fear pass. Because not saying anything hurts longer than the truth ever will.”
Ha? He lets out a small, shaky laugh that dies almost immediately. Tangina. Parang ganun lang kadali magsabi ng totoo. Akala mo simple lang. Sabihin mo lang, tapos bahala na.
He presses his palm flat against the counter, grounding himself. Pero hindi eh. Ang dami mong kailangang isipin. Baka masira ‘yung friendship namin. Baka maging awkward. Baka lumayo siya. Baka sa isang salita lang, mawala lahat ng meron ngayon.
The thought tightens his chest. He stares at the cup again, the faint swirl at the center like it’s still moving even when everything else feels stuck. He takes a deep breath.
Pero paano kung ‘yun din ‘yung kailangan para hindi ako ma-stuck dito, sa kung ano tayo pero hindi talaga tayo.
The man glances toward the clock hanging above the counter. Its hands frozen between twelve and one.
“Oh,” he murmurs. “Looks like it’s time to close.”
JL frowns. Close?
He gestures at his half-empty cup. “Huh? But I’m not done with my drink yet.”
The man smiles faintly, almost apologetic. “You’ve had enough for tonight.”
JL looks at the clock again. Still not moving. The second hand, stuck mid-tick.
“Seriously? But the clock is not even moving. How do you know it’s time to close?”
“That’s how it is here,” the man replies. “Time only starts again when you’re ready.”
JL blinks at him. “Ready for what?”
The man doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches for another glass. Smaller this time, clear as morning light.
“One last drink,” he says. “It’s not on the menu. I make it for everyone before they leave.”
JL hesitates. “What’s it called?”
The man only smiles. “You’ll know.”
He works quietly, movements steady and deliberate. When he sets the glass down, it’s clear and almost like water.
Huh? Ayan na ‘yun?
The man takes a small glass vial from beneath the counter and uncorks it. Inside is a single pearl of color. He drops it gently into the drink. It dissolves slowly, then all at once. The clear liquid stirs to life, glowing faintly as tendrils of color unfurl.
JL stares, transfixed.
The man finally says, “Now it’s ready.”
“So… what happens if I drink it?”
“That depends,” the man says. “Some wake up thinking it was all a dream and keep living the same way. Others remember, and finally decide to stop running.”
He glances at JL, voice softening. “But they all come here for a reason. The café doesn’t really choose who walks in. It just appears when someone’s heart starts wanting something sincerely.”
Bakit ako kinakabahan? His hand trembles slightly as he lifts the cup.
“Each drink becomes what the person needs most. For some, it’s forgiveness. For others… courage.”
Then JL takes a sip.
It burns, not painfully, but with a spark that spreads like lightning, cracking through his chest. His heartbeat steadies. The fear doesn’t vanish. It just stops feeling like something to run from. For the first time that night, he feels awake.
The man studies him quietly. “Better?”
JL exhales. His lips curve faintly. “Yeah. I think so.”
He glances at the clock again, and this time, it’s ticking.
The man’s voice softens, almost a whisper. “Well, I guess yours is called Courage.”
JL looks down at his empty glass, then back up, but the seat across the counter is empty. The jazz has stopped. The café feels like it’s fading at the edges, ready to disappear with the night.
He then finds himself outside again. The rain has stopped. The streets are still quiet.
His phone buzzes.
Steven.
JL breathes out a laugh. Okay, universe, gets na kita. He answers the call.
“Hey Yeup, yeah, I’m just outside, but I’ll be back soon. I was wondering… when I get back, if you have time to talk? No, no… nothing bad. There’s just something I want to say. I guess… I’m feeling a little brave tonight.”
When the call ends, and he looks back, Café 0:00 is gone.