Chapter Text
The first time Stell realized he would never truly escape Justin’s family was three months after the breakup. He was standing in the produce section of a grocery store, squinting at avocados, when his phone rang.
“Tita Mercy” flashed across the screen.
Stell stared at it. Then at the avocados. Then back at the phone.
He answered anyway, already knowing exactly what the person on the other end would sound like.
“Hello po?”
“Stell, anak!” Justin’s aunt sounded scandalized. “Bakit parang nagulat ka? Anyway, lunch on Sunday, okay? Don’t be late this time. Your Tito Boy is making kare-kare.”
Stell blinked.
Everything felt so casual. It had been a while since he last spoke to Tita Mercy, yet it felt like no time had passed at all. Being invited over for lunch by Justin’s family used to happen all the time back when he and Justin were still together. After the breakup, though, Stell had stopped coming, already knowing how awkward it would feel around Justin’s relatives.
But they kept inviting him anyway.
Two weeks after the breakup, it was a family get-together somewhere in Tagaytay. Stell had refused, of course, claiming he already had plans that day even though he didn’t. The following week, it was a random family dinner. He declined again, saying he was sick. Then it just kept happening: another invitation, another excuse.
Stell figured staying away was the safer option. If he showed up, there would be questions, protests, or even threats—not the serious kind, but the “magbalikan na kasi kayo” kind. Stell wasn’t sure he could handle that, not when he was still trying hard to move on. Besides, he didn’t even know how Justin would feel if he suddenly appeared at another family gathering.
Maybe that was the cruel part. Justin had let him go, but the family never really did.
“Ah… po?” Stell finally snapped out of his thoughts.
“Bring dessert. No excuses this time ah.”
The line went dead.
Stell stood there in silence while a stranger beside him gently reached around him for tomatoes with an apologetic smile.
Apparently, even after ending a three-year long relationship with Justin, he was still expected at family lunch.
-------
“You’re going?” Josh asked, horrified.
“You don’t understand,” Stell pointed accusingly with his fork. “His lola cried last time when I said I might skip.”
“That’s emotional manipulation,” Josh said, shoving the fork away.
Stell shrugged. It would be a lie to say he didn’t miss those family gatherings. If there was one thing Justin’s family knew how to do, it was to make people feel welcome. They had treated Stell like family from the very beginning, and somehow, he still felt guilty for walking away from that.
“Maybe it’s Filipino love,” Stell said half-jokingly.
“You’re literally not dating Justin anymore.”
“I know that.”
“So why are you bringing leche flan to his family reunion?”
Stell laughed. “Because Tito Boy likes mine better than Justin’s.”
Josh stared at him for a long moment.
“...That’s actually kind of insane.”
“Thank you.”
-------
The breakup itself had been painfully mature. No cheating. No screaming. No dramatic airport chase. It was just two exhausted people realizing they loved each other but could no longer make the timing work anymore.
But in truth, it hadn’t started that night.
It had been happening slowly for months, almost unnoticeably. In the pauses between conversations that used to come naturally. In the unanswered messages left hanging for hours, then days. In the way Justin began retreating inward a little more each time something went wrong, and Stell began noticing it a little too late each time.
The breakup finally happened quietly in Justin’s condo at two in the morning, with half-drunk cups of coffee growing cold on the table.
They had stopped by a convenience store on the way home after the afterparty of a small concert, buying coffee neither of them really wanted. Stell remembered staring at the brightly lit signages while Justin paid at the counter, wondering if he should finally ask what was wrong. He never did.
The card ride home had been painfully quiet. Justin sat in the passenger seat with his head turned toward the window. From the reflection in the glass, Stell could see how exhausted he looked—not just physically exhausted, but emotionally exhausted in a way that seemed heavier somehow. The kind that settled into a person slowly until it became impossible to carry alone.
Stell kept glancing at him every red light, waiting for Justin to say something. To explain. To reassure him that this strange distance between them would disappear by morning.
But Justin remained silent.
When they got upstairs to their unit, Justin unlocked the condo and walked inside without a word. Stell followed quietly behind him, listening to the familiar sound of keys hitting the counter and cabinet doors opening and closing. Justin busied himself preparing the coffee, moving carefully around the kitchen as if keeping his hands occupied would somehow make the silence bearable.
Stell watched him the entire time.
That was the thing about Justin. Whenever he was overwhelmed, he disappeared into himself. Stell had spent three years learning how to read the quiet versions of Justin–the tightness in his shoulders, the avoidance in his eyes, the way he suddenly became focused on small tasks whenever something was wrong. Just like now.
And Stell, unfortunately, had always been the opposite.
Whenever silence appeared, he chased after it, trying to fix it all before it could grow into distance between them.
By the time they sat across from each other at the small dining table, Stell already knew.
“I think we keep hurting each other by accident,” Justin had whispered.
Stell felt his throat tighten, simply because he knew Justin was right.
So he cried quietly instead, staring down at his untouched coffee while Justin sat across from him looking just as devastated.
And that was the worst part.
There was nobody to hate.
-------
Sunday lunch was a nightmare.
Because Justin was there. Of course he was there. It was his family.
And yet somehow, Stell arrived first.
“Ayan!” Justin’s mother beamed when Stell walked in. “You’re early!”
Stell handed over the leche flan he brought. “Hindi naman po gaano ka-traffic.”
“Good. Come help me in the kitchen.”
Justin’s mother invited him over like he lived there. Like nothing had changed.
It made Stell’s chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite name. He missed them—Justin’s family. They showed no signs of awkwardness around him, greeting him as if he had always belonged in their home, as if nothing had shifted at all.
Justin’s aunts kissed him on the cheeks, while the uncles patted him on the back. Justin’s little cousins called out, “Kuya Stell!” waving excitedly at him as if he had only been gone for a few days instead of months. Justin’s lola, already teary-eyed the moment she saw him, pulled him into a hug so tight it almost hurt.
For a moment, Stell thought she hadn’t changed at all.
“Stell, ang payat mo na! Ikaw kasi hindi ka na nagpupunta dito eh.”
His chest ached at her words. He couldn’t tell her the reason why he stopped coming. He couldn’t say Justin’s name in that context, not without risking something fragile breaking further.
“Sorry po, naging busy lang,” he said instead, forcing a small smile.
Stell excused himself and went into the kitchen, where Justin’s mother and a few of the house helps were already chopping ingredients. It wasn’t surprising—Justin’s extended family was large, and Sunday lunches were never simple affairs.
He reached for a draw, instinctively finding a knife as muscle memory guided him. He knew this kitchen too well. He had learned it the same way he had learned Justin’s habits—through repetition, through time, through belonging.
Stell had barely tied on an apron when he heard the front door open.
Then Justin’s voice.
Then silence.
The specific kind of silence that happens when a room full of relatives suddenly remembers two people in it used to love each other and broke up.
Justin stepped into the kitchen holding a plastic bag of ice.
“Ma, eto na yung–” he stopped mid-sentence as their eyes met.
Neither of them moved. It wasn’t dramatic. It was worse than that. It was familiar but unprepared, like walking into a performance neither of them had rehearsed.
Justin’s mother glanced between them once, then calmly went back to chopping onions.
“Oh good, both of you are here,” she said. “Justin, help Stell peel the potatoes.”
“Ma,” Justin complained weakly, already defeated before the argument could even start.
“Bilis na, Justin.”
Stell nearly laughed.
Because not even heartbreak could overcome a Filipino mom’s authority.
-------
It became a routine after that. Birthdays. Sunday lunches. Christmas. Karaoke nights.
One unforgettable family karaoke night ended with Tito Boy getting drunk and shouting, “MAGBALIKAN NA KASI KAYO!” into the microphone before being immediately being smacked in the face by a throw pillow by one of the aunts.
Stell kept telling himself he should stop coming, that it wasn’t normal anymore. That he was only making things harder for himself.
But then Justin’s little cousins would message him asking if he was attending. His lola kept introducing him as “our Stell,” like the word ours still applied without question. And Justin’s mother would still send him home with containers of food, carefully packed, as if he had somewhere else to belong.
So somehow, months later, he was still stitched into the family like an extra thread nobody wanted to cut loose.
Even Justin didn’t seem to know what to do about it anymore.
But the thing was, Justin was always kind about it. If Justin had been cruel, distant, or cold, maybe Stell could’ve learned how to detach properly. Maybe distance would have made sense then.
Instead, Justin still pulled out chairs for him without thinking, still remembered that Stell hated raisins in his menudo, still silently handed him medicine when he caught a cold during a family beach trip. It was all instinct, like muscle memory. Like love refusing to die correctly.
-------
One rainy evening, Stell arrived at another family dinner soaked from the storm. Justin opened the door before he could knock, worry already plastered across his face.
“Basang-basa ka, Stell,” he said, immediately draping a towel around Stell’s shoulders.
“Observant ka,” Stell teased.
Justin rolled his eyes automatically and pulled the towel over Stell’s face.
Inside, the house buzzed with noise and laughter, and the comforting smell of sinigang filled the air. Stell had a feeling it was Justin who had requested to have soup for dinner, knowing Stell would be coming in soaked and cold from the rain.
While Stell dried his hair, Justin lingered near the doorway, leaning against the frame in silence.
“You know,” Justin started softly, almost hesitantly. “You could stop coming.”
Stell looked up. There was no cruelty in Justin’s face, only something tired and careful. It was as if he had been holding the thought in for a long time but never knowing how to release it properly.
“I tried,” Stell admitted. “Your family keeps inviting me.”
Justin couldn’t help but laugh. “My lola threatened to disown me if I stopped inviting you.”
“That sounds about right.”
Silence settled between them.
Despite the thunder rolling outside, Stell could only hear his heartbeat pressing against his chest, loud enough to feel like it was betraying him.
Finally, Justin spoke again.
“They still love you.”
Stell swallowed hard.
“That’s the problem,” he said quietly.
He folded the towel neatly and handed it back to Justin. Outside, the rain continued to hammer against the roof, unrelenting. Stell looked into Justin’s eyes then, and for one dangerous second, Stell saw it—the exact same longing he’d been trying to bury for months.
Justin looked away first.
“Come inside,” he murmured. “Dinner’s ready.”
But later that night, after everyone had fallen asleep in random places around the house and the karaoke machine finally died, Stell found Justin alone on the balcony.
Neither of them spoke at first. The rain had softened into a silent drizzle, almost like the storm had decided to listen instead of interrupt.
“You know what Tito Boy told me earlier?” Justin asked suddenly as Stell stepped out and settled beside him.
“What?”
“He said breakups don’t count if the family disagrees.”
Stell let out a small chuckle.
“That’s not legally true.”
“Well, it might be emotionally true.”
Stell looked down at the streetlights below, blurred slightly by the rain. It reminded him of the drive home the night of their breakup. The silence in that car. The weight of everything that wasn’t said. It still ached, even now, in quieter moments like this.
Then, softly, Stell asked.
“Do you ever miss me?”
Justin gave a short laugh. It was a soft laugh, the kind that Justin used when something hit too close but he didn’t know how to hold it in.
“Stell,” he said, turning to look him fully in the eyes. “My entire family won’t let me forget you for five business days.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
The humor faded from Justin’s face.
He went silent. He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, like he was steadying himself. When he opened them again, there was something honest there—unguarded in a way Stell wasn’t used to anymore.
A small, restrained smile touched his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
It took a moment before Justin finally said something.
“Every day.”