The first week of living together fell into a rhythm. Iris woke early to sketch while Luna lingered in bed, wrapped in the sheets like a secret only Iris was allowed to discover. Then coffee, breakfast, teasing comments from Adrian when he dropped by, and long afternoons where Iris painted and Luna read quietly by the window.
It felt ordinary, but for Iris, ordinary was magic. Ordinary was precious.
One morning, Iris found Luna standing on the balcony, hair tangled in the breeze, eyes fixed far beyond the Manila skyline.
"Good morning, daydreamer," Iris murmured, wrapping her arms around Luna's waist.
Luna didn't startle. Instead, she leaned back against her. "Good morning."
"You're thinking again," Iris accused softly.
Luna tilted her head just enough to glance at her. "Do you ever wonder if happiness is just… a pause before something breaks?"
Iris kissed the side of her neck, lingering. "No. Happiness isn't fragile, Luna. It's a choice. And I'm choosing you."
For a heartbeat, Luna's expression wavered, something like grief flashing in her eyes. But then she whispered, "Then let me believe you, Iris. Just for today."
That weekend, Iris insisted on taking Luna out.
"Where?" Luna asked, tugging at her borrowed denim jacket.
"You'll see."
They ended up at a small art café tucked between old bookstores near Intramuros. Paintings lined the walls, and the air smelled faintly of coffee and linseed oil.
Iris ordered them drinks—iced latte for herself, hot chocolate for Luna—and guided her to a quiet corner. She pulled out her sketchbook.
"Sit still," Iris commanded.
Luna blinked. "You're going to draw me? Here? With people around?"
"Why not? You're beautiful. Let the world envy me."
Luna flushed, silver eyes darting away. "You're impossible."
Iris sketched quickly, lines flowing like instinct. As she worked, she caught glimpses of Luna's expression—the way she tried to hide a smile, the way her fingers curled shyly against the table, the way her gaze softened whenever it met Iris's.
When she was done, she turned the page to show her.
Luna's breath caught. "I look… different."
"You look like how I see you," Iris said simply.
For a long moment, Luna said nothing. Then she reached across the table, squeezing Iris's hand. "No one's ever… seen me like this."
That evening, they returned to the apartment in high spirits. Iris hummed as she unlocked the door, Luna carrying a bag of pastries Adrian had begged them to buy.
But as soon as they stepped inside, Luna froze.
On the doormat was a small, folded piece of paper.
Iris bent to pick it up. It wasn't addressed, just plain, creased. She unfolded it.
Two words stared back at her in jagged handwriting:
"Found you."
Iris's heart lurched. "What the hell—"
But when she turned, Luna's face was pale as porcelain, her hands trembling.
"Luna?" Iris whispered.
Luna snatched the note, crumpling it in her fist. "It's nothing. Probably some stupid prank."
"Luna—"
"I said it's nothing," she cut sharply, shoving past Iris.
For the rest of the night, Luna was quiet, withdrawn, her walls rising higher than Iris had ever seen.
Later, Iris found her on the rooftop, sitting on the edge with her knees pulled to her chest. The crumpled note lay beside her, fluttering slightly in the wind.
Iris picked it up gently. "Talk to me."
Luna's eyes shimmered with starlight. "I told you it's nothing."
"You don't look like it's nothing. You look like the world just cracked open beneath you."
Silence stretched.
Then Luna whispered, "You don't understand. I thought I'd escaped them. I thought…" She broke off, biting her lip hard.
"Who, Luna? Who are you running from?"
Luna's gaze dropped. Her voice was barely audible. "My family's enemies. People who wanted… everything we had. They don't forgive. They don't forget."
Iris felt a chill ripple through her. "And they've found you again?"
"I don't know," Luna whispered. "But if they have… you're not safe with me."
Iris crouched, cupping her face, forcing Luna to look at her. "Don't push me away. Not now. Not when you need someone the most."
Luna trembled. "I don't want to drag you into my shadows."
"You're not dragging me. I walked in willingly."
Her lips brushed Luna's, gentle but steady, an anchor against the storm. "I'm not leaving, Luna. Not now. Not ever."
Luna's walls cracked just enough for her to collapse into Iris's arms, clutching her tightly as if she feared the stars might steal her away.
They returned to the apartment wordlessly. The tension hung thick, but under it pulsed something fiercer—desperation, need.
Luna kissed her first, urgent, almost frantic, pushing Iris against the wall. Iris gasped but didn't resist, pulling her closer until their bodies molded together.
"Luna—" Iris tried, but her words melted into another kiss, deeper this time, tasting of fear and longing.
Their hands roamed—hungry, searching, clinging. Luna pushed Iris toward the bed, lips never leaving hers.
The night unfolded in a blur of heat and tenderness. Luna's touch was both desperate and reverent, as if memorizing every inch of Iris. Iris responded with equal fervor, grounding her, whispering reassurances between kisses.
When at last they lay entwined, breathless and flushed, Luna buried her face against Iris's neck.
"If they come for me," she whispered hoarsely, "promise me you'll run."
Iris tightened her arms. "No. I'll fight."
"Promise me," Luna insisted.
"I can't," Iris said softly but firmly. "Because without you, there's nothing to run to."
Luna's tears dampened her skin. Yet for the first time, Iris felt the full truth of their bond: fragile but unbreakable, tested by shadows but anchored by love.
The following days carried a subtle tension. Luna smiled and laughed when Adrian visited, cooked meals, even teased Iris about her messy sketches—but Iris noticed the way her gaze flickered toward the windows too often, how her shoulders tensed at unfamiliar footsteps in the hallway.
At night, Luna curled tighter against Iris, as though bracing for something unseen.
One morning, Iris found a second note slipped under their door. This one was colder, sharper:
"You can't hide her forever."
Her blood ran cold. She didn't show Luna this time. Not yet.
Instead, Iris burned the note over the sink, watching the ashes scatter. She swore silently to the stars: whoever these shadows were, they would not take Luna away.
Not while Iris still had breath in her body.