Chapter Text
## **Chapter 1: Amen to That (Whatever 'That' Is)**
The morning sun hit the dusty pews of the church along Aurora Boulevard, slicing through the air in long, golden needles. Inside, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the chaotic, jeepney-choked street just outside the heavy wooden doors. The air was cool, smelling deeply of old hymnals, floor wax, and the faint, lingering scent of frankincense from the early morning service. It was the kind of silence that felt heavy, almost liquid, vibrating only with the distant hum of a passing LRT-2 train.
You were currently perched on the organ bench, your expression as flat as the sugar filled pancakes that manang sells outside the church. While most eighteen-year-olds in the Philippines were currently stressing over university entrance exams or doom-scrolling through TikTok, you were staring at a printed report about the upcoming youth summer camp.
Your eyes scanned the list of logistics: *Sound system—needs repair. Chairs—short by 50. Budget—tight.* You groan "Lord," you thought, leaning your forehead against the cool wood of the organ. "Alam kong corrupt yung gobyerno namin, pero ’wag niyo naman gawing hell on earth ang Pinas. Please naman po. Ang init na nga, ang gulo pa."
You reached into the pocket of your oversized flannel shirt and pulled out a small towel to wipe the sweat from your neck. Even with the church’s high ceilings, the Manila humidity was a persistent stalker. You sighed, a low, monotone sound that echoed in the empty hall. You just wanted to finish your modular requirements, organize this camp, and take a nap that lasted at least three business days.
"Anak, fix your collar," your Mom called out. Her voice, conditioned by twenty years of being a head nurse, was sharp enough to cut through your daydreaming. She walked past the pews, her white uniform crisp and terrifyingly spotless. "Yung mga bisita papunta na. Don't look like you just woke up from a century-long nap. First impressions are lasting, (Y/n)."
"Opo, Ma," you replied. Your voice was a calm, low monotone, the kind that didn't betray a single emotion. You didn't fix the collar. In fact, you leaned back further, your fingers ghosting over the ivory keys of the organ.
"I mean it," she added, stopping to look at you. "Direk Lauren is an old friend of your father’s. Show some respect. At least try to look like you’re happy to be alive."
"I am happy, Ma. This is my happy face," you said, blinking once.
Your Mom just shook her head, muttering something about "nonchalant kids" and "Gen Z stoicism" as she disappeared into the vestry to check on your Dad.
You turned back to the organ. To anyone else, the instrument was an intimidating wall of pipes and pedals. To you, it was a giant puzzle. You began to play, not a hymn, but a complex, jazzy rearrangement of a song you’d heard on the radio. Your fingers moved with a terrifying, surgical precision. You weren't just playing; you were deconstructing the melody, adding layers of harmony that shouldn't have worked but somehow did. You were so deep in the zone that you didn't hear the heavy wooden doors creak open.
The doors didn't just open; they were conquered. In walked Direk Lauren, looking like he was on a mission from God himself, clutching a clipboard like a shield. But it wasn't him that changed the molecular structure of the room. It was the eight girls behind him.
They radiated "main character energy" so potent it could have powered the entire Meralco grid for a month. They were vibrant, loud, and smelled like expensive perfume and hairspray.
It was **BINI**.
"Uy, ang ganda rito! Very vintage aesthetic," Stacey whispered, her eyes wide as she took in the stained glass. "Perfect for a mood board, 'di ba?"
"Te, baka may mumu," Maloi teased, nudging her. "Pa-vintage vintage ka pa d'yan. Pag may sumulpot sa likod mo sa dilim, ewan ko na lang. Baka mapa-Huwag Muna Tayong Umuwi ka nang wala sa oras." Jhoanna snickered.
"Hoy, Maloi! Wag ka ngang ganyan, nakakatakot kaya," Gwen muttered, though she was busy fixing her hair in the reflection of a brass plaque.
Direk Lauren stopped in the middle of the aisle, his head cocked to the side. He was listening to the music. Your music. His eyes slowly traveled up to the organ loft, squinting against the sunlight.
"Wait... (Y/n)? Ikaw na ba 'yan?" he shouted.
You stopped playing abruptly, the final chord hanging in the air like a question mark. You slowly turned your head, blinking at the crowd below. From your vantage point, they looked like a collection of colorful birds that had accidentally flown into a monochrome cage.
"Hello po, Direk. Long time no see," you said, your voice drifting down, calm and unbothered.
The girls stopped behind Direk, staring up at you. You were wearing an oversized polo, faded slacks, and a look of such profound boredom that Sheena actually stepped back a bit.
"Grabe, Direk, sino siya? Bat parang hindi siya tao? Parang rebulto na poganda?" Sheena whispered, her voice echoing. She yelped as Colet pinched her side.
“Totoo naman eh!” Sheena hissed. “Parang main character sa anime na ayaw lumabas ng bahay.”
Direk Lauren ignored the bickering, his eyes shining with a strange, predatory excitement. "I heard you playing from the parking lot, (Y/n). That arrangement... that was yours? It sounded like your Lolo’s style, but cleaner. More... modern."
"Trip ko lang po 'yung chords," you said simply. You didn't mention that you’d spent three nights perfecting that specific harmonic shift. To you, it was just another task completed.
You stood up, intending to head down and greet them properly, when you noticed Colet struggling with a heavy equipment bag near the door. It was a bulky, awkward thing filled with camera gear or lighting kits. Without saying a word, and without changing your facial expression, you hopped down from the loft with a quiet thud and walked straight toward her.
Colet was mid-grunt, trying to adjust the strap on her shoulder, when the weight suddenly vanished. You had reached out and taken the bag from her hand in one smooth motion.
"Ay, Bai, 'wag na. Ang bigat niyan, ha," Colet said, startled. She looked up at you, surprised by how much taller you were up close.
"Magaan lang," you said. Your voice was smooth, polite, and completely devoid of strain. You hoisted the bag onto your shoulder as if it were filled with feathers. "Dito niyo po ba ilalagay? Ingat po sa step, medyo loose 'yung tile d'yan."
As Colet started to walk down toward the altar where the setup was supposed to be, you noticed she was slightly off-balance. You didn't hesitate. You held out your free hand, offering your forearm as a steadying post.
"Alalay po," you muttered.
Colet blinked, her hand instinctively grabbing your arm. It was solid, steady. She felt a weird surge of heat hit her face, which she quickly tried to hide by looking away. "Salamat, ha."
Aiah leaned over to Mikha, her eyes dancing with curiosity. "Hala, she’s so... gentlewoman ang atake. Effortless na effortless, 'di ba? She didn't even wait for us to ask."
Mikha nodded, her eyes narrowed as she watched you set the bag down with surgical precision. "Cool niya, ah. She's like on low battery mode. Not trying to brag, pero usually, people go crazy pag nakikita tayo. Siya, parang mas interesado pa siya sa tiles ng sahig."
You turned back to Direk Lauren, standing with your hands in your pockets, looking like you were ready to be dismissed so you could go back to your napping schedule.
"Direk, bakit niyo po pala sila dinala rito? May shooting po ba?"
Direk Lauren didn't answer immediately. He was looking at the way you stood—centered, unfazed, and possessing a natural authority you weren't even aware of. He looked at his girls, then back at you.
"Actually, (Y/n), I came here to ask your Dad if we could use the hall for a rehearsal space. But now..." he trailed off, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Girls, meet your new secret weapon."
The silence that followed was heavy.
"What?" Mikha blinked
"Huh?" Aiah asked
“Po?” Stacey asked, her eyes darting between Direk and you.
“Ha?” Maloi added.
“Direk, high ka ba sa katol?” Sheena blurted out.
“Hoy, piste, Sheena Mae! Wag mo nga sabihin 'yun kay Direk!” Colet hissed, though she looked just as confused.
“Bebe, nasa simbahan tayo, bawas-bawasan ang daldal,” Gwen whispered, though she was busy scanning you from head to toe.
Jhoanna’s jaw dropped. "Wait, Direk? Don't tell me—"
"Exactly," Direk Lauren grinned, looking like the cat that ate the canary. "I’ve been looking for a stabilizer. Someone na may technical brain of a producer but the raw talent of an idol. Someone who doesn't get rattled by the noise. (Y/n) is the one. (Y/n), pack your bags. You’re coming with us sa ABS."
You stared at him for a solid five seconds. The girls were holding their breath, expecting a scream of joy, a faint, or at least a confused stutter. Instead, you just tilted your head slightly to the left.
"May aircon po ba dun?"
The BINI girls collectively stumbled.
"Yun lang? Yun lang talaga ang tanong mo?" Mikha asked, her cool exterior finally cracking into a look of pure disbelief. "We’re talking about BINI. The nation’s girl group. And your priority is... ventilation?"
"Mainit sa Pinas, eh. Bakit ba," you replied, your voice as flat as ever. "Ayoko pong pinagpapawisan sa practice. Nakakahilo."
Direk Lauren laughed, a booming sound that echoed off the pews. "Oo, (Y/n). Meron. High-end industrial aircon. You’ll be freezing."
"Ge po. Paalam lang ako kay Papa. At kay Mama, baka kailanganin ko ng extrang SkyFlakes," you said. You turned around and started walking toward the vestry, but stopped after three steps. You turned back to the girls, who were still standing there in various states of shock.
"Uh... yung mga gamit niyo po sa labas? Ako na po magpapasok. Baka manakaw, maraming snatcher sa labas ng Aurora Blvd," you said.
Before they could respond, you were already heading for the door.
"I like her," Sheena giggled, breaking the silence. "Kulang tayo sa ganitong energy. 'Yung tipong kahit lumilindol, 'Ah, sige, lundag lang tayo' ang peg. Chill lang siya."
"Para siyang nang gagayuma," Colet muttered, still feeling the phantom warmth of where she’d held your arm. "Masyado siyang charming, bai."
Aiah smiled, watching your retreating back. "She’s the 'Ace,' huh? I think Cubao just got a lot more interesting."
You, meanwhile, were already outside, lifting a heavy speaker box like it was a grocery bag, thinking only one thing: *Sana talaga malamig yung aircon dun. Ayokong magka-bungang araw.*
And just like that, your plans of dull, silent Gap years were uprooted and thrown into chaos.
No tears, no screaming fans, just a simple request for a cooler climate.
"Amen talaga, Lord"