Work Text:
At exactly 7:03 PM, Senator Sherwin Gatchalian decided he deserved a drink.
By 7:15 PM, he had also decided he deserved a second one.
Not because he was drunk.
Not because he was celebrating.
Not because becoming Senate President wasn't important.
It was.
It absolutely was.
But after the last three weeks?
The caucuses.
The negotiations.
The meetings.
The endless speculation.
The political maneuvering.
He felt less victorious and more exhausted.
So he poured himself another glass of Macallan.
Sat down on the couch.
And stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows of his condo.
The city glittered below.
Quiet.
Peaceful.
For once.
His phone buzzed.
Another congratulatory message.
He ignored it.
Buzz.
Another one.
Ignored.
Buzz.
Again.
Ignored.
Then one more notification appeared.
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
Congratulations again, Mr. Senate President. 😊
Hope you finally get some rest tonight.
Sherwin stared at the message.
Then looked down at the whiskey in his hand.
Then back at the message.
Then back at the whiskey.
As though consulting an advisor.
The whiskey offered no useful guidance.
He typed.
Deleted.
Typed.
Deleted.
Typed.
Deleted.
Finally:
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
Thank you, Senator Risa.
Long day.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
I can imagine.
I attended one mass today.
You attended what probably felt like six events.
A laugh escaped him.
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
Only two.
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
Only?
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
Only.
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
That's concerning.
Sherwin smiled into his glass.
For reasons he preferred not to examine too closely.
Because somehow—
out of all the messages he'd received today—
hers was the only one that made him feel like the day was actually over.
The conversation should have ended there.
Professional.
Friendly.
Appropriate.
Instead:
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
Are you home already?
He sent it before thinking.
Immediately regretted it.
Then the typing bubble appeared.
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
Yes.
Just got back from Katipunan.
You?
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
Home.
Recharging.
A photo appeared.
The bottle of Macallan.
The glass.
The ice bucket.
The exact photo he'd later post on Instagram.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
Expensive way to recharge.
He laughed.
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
Occupational hazard.
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
Must be nice.
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
It has its moments.
A pause.
Then:
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
Congratulations, Sherwin.
Seriously.
You worked hard for this.
The smile faded slightly.
Softened.
Because somehow that meant more than the hundreds of congratulatory messages he'd received all day.
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
Thank you.
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Then another message arrived.
You deserve to enjoy today.
The whiskey suddenly felt stronger.
Not because of the alcohol.
Because of her.
Sherwin leaned back against the couch.
Looked at the city.
Looked at the message.
Looked at the empty space beside him.
And made the terrible decision to pour a third glass.
A mistake.
A very pleasant mistake.
But still a mistake.
Because twenty minutes later, his judgment had become...
flexible.
Not impaired.
Just...
creative.
His phone buzzed again.
]Risa had sent a photo.
A cup of tea.
A book.
A blanket.
Her version of recharging.
He stared at it.
Then typed:
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
I think your recharge is healthier than mine.
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
Probably.
Another pause.
Then:
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
Although mine is less fun.
Sherwin smiled.
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
Debatable.
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
Oh?
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
Oh.
The typing bubble appeared.
]Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Sherwin knew that feeling.
Then:
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
How much whiskey have you had?
He laughed.
Actually laughed out loud.
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
Three.
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
Three glasses?
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
Maybe.
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
Sherwin.
The fact that she'd dropped the senator title did absolutely nothing good for his heart.
He blamed the whiskey.
Entirely the whiskey.
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
Maybe two and a half.
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
Liar.
The smile wouldn't leave his face now.
Then before common sense could intervene—
before years of professionalism could tackle him to the ground—
before his remaining brain cells could organize a defense—
he typed:
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
For the record.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
For the record what?
Sherwin stared at the screen.
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
For the record|
The cursor blinked.
And blinked.
And blinked.
He could still stop.
He should stop.
Any reasonable person would stop.
Instead:
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
I like talking to you after long days.
Silence.
Complete silence.
Sherwin immediately considered throwing himself directly into the Pasig River.
What kind of message was that?
What was that supposed to mean?
Why had he sent that?
The typing bubble appeared.
Vanished.
Appeared again.
Then finally:
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
For the record
I like talking to you after long days too.
Sherwin stared.
Read it again.
Then again.
Then again.
The smile that spread across his face was helpless.
Completely helpless.
Outside, Manila glittered beneath the night sky.
Inside, the Senate President sat alone on his couch holding a glass of eighteen-year-old whiskey and smiling like an idiot.
His phone buzzed one final time.
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
Get some sleep, Sherwin.
He smiled.
SP Sherwin Gatchalian:
You too, Risa.
Then another message appeared.
One last one.
Sen Risa Hontiveros:
And maybe switch to water. 😏
Sherwin laughed so hard he nearly spilled the Macallan.
For the first time all day—
the weight of the Senate.
The expectations.
The pressure.
The responsibility.
All of it felt lighter.
And somewhere in Katipunan, Senator Risa Hontiveros was smiling at her phone too.
Neither of them had confessed anything.
Not really.
But if either staffer ever got access to those messages—
they would absolutely enter them into evidence.