Chapter Text
Under the city lights of Manila and messy group chats - a cloud that absolutely did not have permission for unscheduled missions, a cupid named AL dangled his legs over the edge and peered down at Earth.
AL is not your typical cupid. Unlike the cupids who look like they came straight out of a beautiful painting, with their golden dresses glowing wherever they go, AL wore sneakers and a halo so crooked it looked homemade.
One night, AL set his eyes on a group of friends—specifically, eight dangerously oblivious girls from BINI.
AL flipped through the Celestial book of Love and through his checklist.
Unchecked feelings.
"Typical.." AL mumbled.
Lingering glances.
"Ohh... how interesting!"
Suspiciously long hugs.
"Uh huh...."
Way too much “bestie” behavior.
"Definitely, a hundred percent gay!" AL screamed in excitement.
---
If anyone asked Mikha when it started, she wouldn’t know how to answer.
Because it didn’t start with a lightning strike.
It didn’t start with a realization.
It didn’t start at all.
It was more like waking up one day and discovering that someone had always been there.
Aiah has always been there.
Across crowded rooms.
Beside her during long rehearsals.
On the other end of late-night calls, Mikha couldn’t sleep but didn’t know why.
They had grown into each other’s presence so naturally that neither of them questioned it.
Which, unfortunately, made it very easy to pretend nothing was happening.
Mikha was lying on the studio floor, staring at the ceiling, one knee bent, phone balanced loosely on her stomach. Practice had ended, but her body felt like it had run a marathon she never signed up for.
“Everything hurts, like ayoko na sumayaw for today. Even in my dreams, I am still dancing.” she announced to no one in particular.
“I warned you about overdoing it.”
Mikha didn’t have to look to know who spoke.
Aiah sat beside her, legs folded, hair slightly messy from dancing, holding a hair tie between her fingers.
“You say that every time, and we still do it everyday.” Mikha replied.
“And every time, I’m right. Kay I am always right man.” Aiah said, along with her Bisaya comments, that Mikha somewhat understands now because of their daily conversations.
Mikha huffed. “Annoying.”
Aiah smiled.
It wasn’t a big smile.
It was the small one she only used when she felt comfortable.
Mikha didn’t see it.
But Cupid AL did, and it made him giggle.
From a cloud hovering just above the ceiling, AL squinted down at the pair.
“These two..” he muttered. “Have been emotionally married for years, and hindi man lang sila aware about it." he clicked is tounge in frustration.
AL wasn’t interested in grand gestures.
No dramatic confessions.
No sudden kisses.
Just…
Awareness.
He drew an arrow.
Not one of the heavy, fate-altering kind.
Just a nudge, because that is all they needed. AL just needs to push them a little bit forward, not intervening much more than necessary.
An arrow shot, with a shimmer of soft light, fell unnoticed.
Once hit, Aiah reached toward Mikha’s hair without thinking.
She’d done this hundreds of times before.
But this time—
Her fingers hesitated.
Mikha’s hair looked softer than usual.
Had it always caught the light like that? She wondered. Lagi naman nilang ginagawa 'to, pero something just felt different right now.
Aiah gently separated a section and started braiding.
Mikha felt it immediately.
Not the braid.
The weight of it.
Aiah’s fingers felt warmer than usual.
Slower.
Mikha swallowed.
“Why are you suddenly so gentle?” she asked.
Aiah blinked.
“I’m always gentle.”
“No, you’re not,” Mikha said. “You’re usually aggressive-gentle.”
Aiah laughed softly. "Unsang aggressive-gentle? Boang." (Trans: Anong aggressive-gentle? Baliw."
The sound did something very inconvenient to Mikha’s chest.
They fell quiet.
The kind of quiet that wasn’t awkward.
The kind that felt full.
Mikha stared at the ceiling again, but now she was hyper-aware of everything.
The brush of Aiah’s knuckles.
The faint scent of her shampoo.
The way Aiah leaned slightly closer when she concentrated.
It made Mikha’s stomach feel weird.
Not sick.
Not bad.
Just… tight.
“Mikha?” Aiah said.
“Yeah?”
“You’re… really pretty.”
The words slipped out before Aiah could stop them. "fhsahfalffafbajfabfkhwiouw, ngano man nakun to gin sulti sa iyaha?!!?!?" she shouted and scolded herself internally. (Trans: bakit ko sinabi sakanya 'yon?)
They hung in the air.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Mikha stopped breathing.
Slowly, she turned her head.
“Ha? A-ano 'yon?”
Aiah froze.
Her brain scrambled for a way to rewind time.
“I— I mean— not like— I, hindi—you are—obviously—everyone knows that— I just—”
Mikha sat up.
Aiah’s hands dropped to her lap.
They stared at each other.
Mikha’s ears burned.
Aiah’s heart felt like it was trying to punch its way out of her ribs.
“Do you…” Mikha started, then stopped.
She hated herself for hesitating.
Aiah hated herself for hoping.
Mikha took a breath.
“Do you think about me differently than you think about other people?”
Aiah’s mouth went dry.
She could lie.
She should lie.
She didn’t.
“Yes.”
Mikha’s chest tightened.
“In what way?”
Aiah stared at her hands.
“I notice things I don’t notice with anyone else, sa'yo ko lang napapansin.” she said quietly. “Like kapag nag p-pretend ka na okay ka lang. Or when you’re tired but don’t want to admit it. Or when you laugh differently around me, and how it sounds nice.”
Mikha whispered, “I do that?”
Aiah nodded.
Silence stretched.
Not empty.
Fragile.
Mikha hugged her knees.
“I get jealous, alam mo ba 'yon?” she admitted.
Aiah looked up sharply.
“When people get close to you,” Mikha continued. “I tell myself I don’t care. But I do. And I don’t know why, basta ganon.”
Aiah’s voice barely worked.
“I know why.”
Mikha met her eyes.
Aiah took a shaky breath.
“G-gusto kita, Mikha.” she said. “Not in a friendly way. Not in a casual way. In a way that scares me. Wala ko kabalo unsa ako himuon..” (Trans: hindi ko alam anong gagawin ko)
Mikha’s eyes stung.
“Good.” she said softly.
Aiah blinked. “Good?”
“Because I’ve been scared too.”
Aiah’s breath caught.
“I didn’t want to ruin what we have, gusto ko mag stay lang na ganito.. our quiet conversations, you braiding my hair..” Mikha said. “You’re my safe and comfortable place.”
Aiah reached out before she could overthink it.
Mikha didn’t pull away.
Their hands fit together like they’d been waiting to.
Aiah squeezed gently.
“Maybe this doesn’t ruin anything,” she said. “Maybe it just… changes it.”
Mikha smiled.
Small.
Real.
“I think I’d like that.”
They didn’t kiss.
Not yet.
They just sat there, hands tangled, foreheads almost touching, smiling like two people who had finally found the missing piece of a puzzle they didn’t know they were solving.
Above them, AL wiped his eyes.
“See?” he whispered. Proud of himself. “Didn’t even need fireworks.”
He checked his list.
Three more pairs left.
AL grinned.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.”