"This day was exhausting," Flynn muttered as he dropped onto the couch, his body sinking into the cushions. He let his head fall back, eyes half-closed, the kind of tired that settled deep into his bones and made even lifting a finger feel like too much.
"That's how it is," Dylan said as he picked up Flynn's bag, which had been carelessly dropped on the floor the moment he sat down. "Christmas break is almost here, so all the exams and projects are piling up."
"I'll just cook for you," Dylan added.
Flynn immediately straightened up at that.
"What are you going to cook?"
"Pancit molo," Dylan answered simply.
"Again?" Flynn groaned. "Don't you know how to cook anything else? Ever since you learned how to make that, it's all you ever cook. I'm getting sick of it. Let's just order food."
"We can't."
"Why not?"
"We're out of money."
"What do you mean, we're out?"
"We are. Completely," Dylan replied. "I told you, I don't accept money from my father."
"What about your mom's savings? The money she left for you?"
"It's on hold for now. I already spent a lot this month. I won't be able to use it again until next month."
"This is exactly what I was talking about," Flynn said, letting his head fall back onto the couch again. "You spend too much."
"How much do you even have left?" he asked.
"I don't know," Dylan said. "Probably around a thousand."
Flynn sighed deeply.
"So what are we supposed to do for the next few days? Don't tell me you're finally going to accept money from your father."
"That's not happening," Dylan replied. "Don't worry. I already thought of a way."
"And what would that be?" Flynn asked.
"You'll find out tomorrow," Dylan said, heading toward the kitchen to start cooking.
Flynn could only sigh and stay where he was. He had no idea what Dylan was planning, but for now, he decided to let it go and wait until the next day. For the moment, he would just have to endure another serving of pancit molo—no longer sure how many times Dylan had already cooked it.
The next day, Dylan invited Jake and Cholo over to the apartment for a game of cards. It had been a long time since the four of them had gone out together to gamble at a casino, so when Dylan suggested they play at his place instead, Jake and Cholo didn't hesitate to agree.
-
The living room was filled with cigarette smoke, scattered poker chips, and half-empty bottles on the table.
"Aiiisshh," Jake hissed as he threw his cards down. "We lost again."
"You sure you're not cheating, Flynn?" Cholo muttered, leaning back in his chair.
Flynn only laughed as he calmly gathered the cards, shuffled them with ease, and began dealing again.
"Just luck," he said casually.
"That's impossible," Jake shot back. "We've played how many rounds already? Cholo and I barely won twice."
Dylan smirked, watching Flynn closely as he arranged his chips.
"It's not luck," he said. "Poker's basic to him. Flynn memorizes patterns—how cards move, how people bet. His instincts are sharp. He knows when someone's bluffing before they even realize it themselves."
Flynn shot Dylan a warning look.
"Hey."
Jake clicked his tongue.
"You should've told us earlier. We should've gone straight to a casino and brought Flynn along."
"I don't really gamble," Flynn said, already dealing the next round. "This is just for fun."
The cards hit the table, one after another.
This time, the atmosphere shifted.
Flynn stayed quiet, his face unreadable as he checked his hand. Jake raised the bet confidently. Cholo followed, pushing his chips forward with a grin.
Flynn paused—just long enough to make them think he was unsure—then calmly matched the bet.
The flop came down.
Jake leaned forward, eyes narrowing. Cholo tapped the table, clearly pleased.
Flynn, on the other hand, barely reacted. His gaze drifted—not to the cards, but to their hands, their breathing, the slight twitch in Jake's jaw, the way Cholo avoided eye contact.
He raised.
"Bold move," Jake muttered, matching it.
Turn card.
Cholo hesitated, then pushed all his chips in.
"All in."
Flynn finally looked at his cards again. Then he smiled.
"All in," he said.
River card.
Silence fell over the table.
One by one, they revealed their hands.
Jake cursed under his breath. Cholo stared at the table in disbelief.
Flynn had them beat—clean and precise.
Cholo slumped forward, his forehead hitting the table like he'd just lost the will to live.
"Unbelievable… we couldn't win a single damn time."
Jake exhaled smoke and laughed dryly.
"You're something else, Flynn. Dylan, is there anything this guy can't do?"
Dylan chuckled, clearly proud.
"That's why I invited you. I wanted you to see how good he really is. He's even better than me."
"So someone finally beat you," Cholo muttered, taking a long swig straight from the bottle.
Flynn leaned back in his chair, cards still in hand, expression calm—as if winning had never been in doubt.
After the game, Jake and Cholo stayed for a while to drink with Flynn and Dylan. By late night, they finally headed home.
Once Jake and Cholo had left, Flynn immediately began counting the money they had won.
"How much did we make?" Dylan asked.
"Around fifty thousand," Flynn replied with a grin, counting stacks of bills—thousands and hundreds spread across the table. "Looks like Jake and Cholo lost quite a lot tonight."
"That's pocket change for them compared to what they usually spend when we gamble at a casino," Dylan said.
"This should be enough for our allowance for a few weeks," Flynn said, handing the money to Dylan.
Dylan immediately pushed the money back toward him.
"You keep it."
"Are you sure?" Flynn asked.
Instead of answering, Dylan took out his wallet and pulled out the debit card connected to the savings his mother had left him. He handed it to Flynn.
"What's this for?" Flynn asked, surprised.
"From now on, you handle our budget," Dylan said. "You keep the money—and this card."
"Dylan, that's your mother's money. I can't be the one holding onto it," Flynn replied. "The money we won is enough. I'll just budget that."
Dylan insisted, pressing the card into Flynn's hand.
"I already told you—what's mine is yours. And if I keep this, I'll probably just spend it recklessly again. It's better if you have it."
Flynn let out a sigh.
"Alright. But we'll only use this if we really have to."
"I'm really lucky to have a wife like you," Dylan said with a teasing smirk as he wrapped an arm around Flynn.
"Shut up. I'm not your wife—and you're definitely not my husband," Flynn muttered shyly, quickly shrugging off Dylan's arm.
"Since we won big, we deserve to celebrate," Flynn added. "Let's buy food outside and get more drinks. We don't have classes tomorrow anyway."
He grabbed the jacket hanging by their bedroom door. Dylan followed right after, reaching for his own.
-----------------------------------------------------------
[ Author's Note:
This scene uses standard poker terms. The flop refers to the first three community cards revealed on the table, the turn is the fourth card, and the river is the fifth and final card. All players use these shared cards, along with their own hands, to form the best possible combination. ]