Frooze didn't wait to be invited in.
As soon as Kate took a step back, he brushed past her and entered the apartment, his footsteps heavy against the tile floor—like each one carried the weight of everything unsaid.
'What the…"
Kate's breath hitched. She closed the door quietly behind her, fingers trembling around the knob. Her heart was thundering in her chest, loud enough she swore he could hear it.
"Aba't pumasok nalang ng basta basta?," she muttered under her breath, but it came out thin and weak. "Fuck…what do I do know." Hindi niya ineexpect na mangyayare ito. Na pupuntahan siya si Frooze.
Frooze stood in the middle of her living room like a storm barely contained, his back tense, arms crossed. Rain dripped from the hem of his hoodie onto her floor, leaving little pools that mirrored the chaos between them.
"So this is what I get now? After everything?" he snapped suddenly, turning to face her. His voice cut through the silence like a blade.
Kate blinked, stunned at the volume, the sheer emotion in his voice. It wasn't like him—he was usually calm, sarcastic, detached. But now?
He was cracked open.
"What?" she whispered, almost too softly, as if afraid her voice would trigger something worse.
He took a step closer. His eyes, sharp and reddened from the long drive and god-knows-how-little sleep, burned into hers.
"Days, Kate. I've been messaging you for days. Wala man lang kahit 'okay.' Kahit 'I'm busy.' Ni isang reply, wala."
"I was busy," she said, hugging her arms over her chest like armor, voice flat.
He let out a bitter laugh—one that didn't reach his eyes. "Busy? You're always busy, but you used to make time for me. What changed?"
She looked away.
"Answer me," he said again, his voice dropping an octave, rough and breaking. "What did I do? Bakit bigla ka nalang nag-ghost?"
"I didn't ghost you—" she cut her off.
"Then what do you call it?"
She finally met his eyes, and in that second, something inside her cracked. "I was scared, okay?"
Frooze's expression faltered. "Scared?"
"Yes," she hissed, her voice trembling now. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. "I didn't know where we stood. I didn't know what this was. I didn't want to fall and find out later na you were just bored."
Silence.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. For a moment, he looked more hurt than angry.
"Is that really what you think of me?" he asked, softer now, but the hurt in his tone sharper than before.
"I don't know what to think anymore," she confessed, voice cracking. "We never talked about us. You call me baby, you make me laugh, you make me feel... seen. And it scared the hell out of me. Because it felt too good. Too safe. Too—real."
"And that's a bad thing?" he asked, brows furrowing, the confusion on his face so genuine it nearly broke her.
"For me, it is," she whispered. "Because I was finally healing. I was finally okay being alone. And then you came. And now I don't know how to protect myself without pushing you away."
The air between them pulsed with something heavy and raw. Frooze exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his damp hair. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths.
"I came here... because I couldn't take it anymore," he admitted, voice low, raw. "Every time I opened our chat and saw nothing... it felt like shit. Like I was being punished for something I didn't even do."
"I know," Kate whispered, swallowing the guilt rising in her throat. "And I'm sorry. I just... didn't know how to tell you."
She looked at him then—really looked. His hoodie clung to his shoulders from the rain.
His eyes were bloodshot, not from crying, but from days of tossing, of overthinking, of caring too much and trying to hide it.
Mukhang nagalit nga talaga niya ito..
His face was unshaven. His lips were chapped. His body carried exhaustion like a second skin.
And still, he had come. For her.
Hindi na niya napigilan.
Fuck it!
"I like you, Frooze. More than I should," she said, voice trembling. "And that terrifies me. Because I don't want to go through another heartbreak. I don't want to fall for someone who doesn't feel the same way."
His eyes didn't waver, didn't blink. Just locked onto hers with a weight that made her knees weak.
"You think I don't?" he said quietly. "You think I've been doing all this—chatting, calling, showing up—because I was bored?"
She didn't answer.
Her throat tightened. Her chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself. And then, the tears spilled over—hot, silent, unstoppable.
He stepped forward. Slow, deliberate.
"I didn't plan on you," he said, his voice rough around the edges. "I didn't expect you. At first, yeah—maybe I was just curious. Maybe I thought it was just a one-night thing. But it didn't fade. It got worse."
His hand twitched at his side like he wanted to touch her, but didn't know if he was allowed.
"I started missing you. Wanting to talk to you. Hearing your stupid little voice notes where you mispronounce words or rant about patients. I kept replaying them like a dumbass."
He took a shaky breath.
"I'm not ready for a relationship either, Kate. I don't even know what the hell I'm doing. I'm still fixing parts of myself too. But the thought of you ignoring me? Of you slipping through my fingers without even a goodbye?" He swallowed hard. "It hurt more than I expected."
He looked at her, no longer angry—just raw. Open. Human.
"I thought it would disappear. That this would fade. But it didn't. And now I don't even know what this is. All I know is that I couldn't stay away."
He stepped even closer, now just inches from her. The tension between them was so thick, it was hard to breathe.
"I came here tonight," he whispered, "because if I didn't, I would've gone crazy not knowing what the hell I did wrong. But now I know—"
He reached up, gently brushing a tear from her cheek.
"Now I know you feel the same."
Kate nodded, her voice completely gone now, lips trembling.
"I do," she mouthed, barely audible. "I just didn't know how to say it."
He cupped her face then, hands warm against her skin, thumbs brushing gently over her jaw. The touch made her gasp softly, like she'd been holding her breath for three days straight. The tenderness in his grip undid her, unraveling every wall she had tried to build.
"Then next time," he murmured, eyes locked on hers, "say it. Don't shut me out. Don't leave me hanging."
"I won't," she whispered, leaning into his touch.
He stared at her a moment longer, as if weighing whether to say what he'd been holding back all this time. Then he exhaled, and his voice came out quieter, but no less certain.
"I like you, Kate. More than I've let on. More than I thought I would."
Her eyes widened—just slightly—but enough for him to see how deeply it hit her. Like the words landed somewhere she'd been too afraid to acknowledge even existed.
Her lips parted, but nothing came out at first.
Because no one had said it to her like that in a long, long time.
No hesitation. No jokes. No mixed signals.
Just the truth.
The kind that felt steady. Whole.
Her lower lip trembled as a new wave of tears filled her eyes—not from fear this time, but from the sheer relief of being seen. Of finally hearing the thing she hadn't dared to hope for.
"Say it again," she breathed, almost like she needed to be sure she hadn't imagined it.
He smiled—just barely—and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I like you," he said again, slower this time. "More than I should. And I'm not going anywhere."
Kate closed her eyes for a moment, as if imprinting the moment in her memory, then opened them again to find him still there—real, solid, and close enough to feel the rise and fall of his chest.
She laughed softly through a tear, whispering, "God, I'm such an idiot."
"No," he said, forehead pressing gently to hers. "You were just scared."
They stood there for a long, quiet moment—just breathing, shaking, feeling.
The rain continued to fall outside, distant and soft. The fridge hummed quietly in the background. And in the center of her tiny living room, they stood—two people still healing, still uncertain, but holding on.
To each other.
And maybe, just maybe...
They were finally brave enough to let each other in.