"AH~ UH~ AH~… EH~ IH~ OH~ UU~… Does my voice sound strained, or nah?" Vergel asked, his voice tinged with worry.
"You sound perfect. Now get out there—we'll be late for the flag," I chuckled, brushing invisible dust from his shoulders.
"I feel like I'm gonna puke," he groaned, clutching his stomach, face scrunched.
"Don't mess with me, or I'll ditch you before your performance," I threatened, half-joking, half-encouraging. Nice words never worked on him when his nerves hit like this.
"Fine, fine, alright." He inhaled three times, then let out one massive exhale. "Okay! I'm ready."
I smiled, patting his shoulder. "Break a leg."
"Don't jinx it!" he shot back, throwing me a worried, constipated look as I laughed. Then, shoulders stiff, he marched backstage. I made my way to the benches, found a spot where I could see him clearly, and readied myself to record the memory.
"The moulder of the youth of our city…"
The sun was merciless. At exactly 7:00 a.m., it bore down on the campus like a hammer of fire. Students squinted, faces tight with discomfort, umbrellas raised like fragile shields, handkerchiefs pressed against their foreheads as if fighting a losing battle against the heat.
"…Beloved, alma mater, we, your sons and daughters praise…"
And then Vergel's voice rose—smooth as honey, steady as spring water. His song seemed to soften the sun itself, melting away the scorch. Youthful. Firm. Unshakable.
"…And with our songs our voices we raiseWith love this hymn we dedicate."
Applause thundered through the crowd. Mine joined theirs.
Vergel stepped off the stage, chest rising and falling fast. He ran toward me and gave my chest a quick slap. "I felt like my lungs were being squeezed shut," he chuckled nervously, hands still trembling.
"You were amazing, man. Probably the best one yet in the whole Uni."
He laughed at the compliment, shaking, but relieved. He'd be fine.
After the ceremony, we split off toward our classrooms. The hallways swelled with students, every path clogged. Vergel vanished instantly, slipping through the crowd like the sly fox he was. Meanwhile, I dragged my unsteady pace until I bumped into someone.
"Ah—sorry!" I blurted, bowing slightly.
She bowed, too. Mina Wang.
"Mina," I acknowledged.
"Felix." Her forehead glistened with sweat, her bangs plastered to her skin.
"On your way to class?" I asked. She nodded, too quickly, almost aggressively. Her face was pale.
"Okay, wanna walk together then?"
Another nod, just as sharp.
By the time we reached the classroom, Vergel had collapsed onto his seat, draped over the standing fan like a corpse finding salvation. Mina turned to me, her pale cheeks flushed faintly. "Um, Felix, thank you for walking with me."
I glanced at her and nodded. "No problem."
Mina always thanked people for the smallest things, always apologized even when there was no reason. I'd known her since 10th grade—daughter of the town mayor, quiet to the point of invisibility. She often sat beside me during free periods, maybe because I was quiet, too. Our silence matched. We talked sometimes, rarely. Doe eyes. Thick, perfect brows. Dimples that surfaced only when she dared to smile—something I didn't see often. A simpleton, but… not in a bad way.
June 24, 2024. Monday afternoon.
I was killing time, waiting for Vergel to finish music class so we could grab lunch.
"This damn bee," I muttered. "Always buzzing around others, forgetting to eat with me."
Then I noticed Mina. She was alone on a bench by the soccer field, envelope in one hand, two treats in the other—Whoopie and Wafello, my favorites. She fidgeted, lips moving, like she was whispering to someone unseen.
"Mina?" I called softly as I approached.
She jumped, eyes wide like she'd been snapped out of a trance. "Forgive me for intruding, are you okay?"
Her gaze darted up and down, studying me. Then she stood abruptly, bowed, and thrust the things into my hands—the envelope sealed with a heart-shaped wax, and the snacks. My pulse stumbled. A confession?
"Felix Ambram," she began, voice trembling but clear, "I've liked you since 10th grade. You don't need to return my feelings. I only wanted to confess, to free this tightness in my chest."
She inhaled deeply, then exhaled hard, as if expelling a weight.
I froze. No one had ever confessed to me. And me? If I liked someone, I'd keep it buried. I'd rather never confess than be rejected.
"Ah… I see." I took the letter and snacks gently. "Mina, I appreciate your honesty. It's rare for me to hear confessions, so I don't always know how to respond properly. But… we can't be more than classmates."
Her chin lifted, back straightening. "I knew it would come to this. And I'm not mad, nor sad. Thank you for not pushing me away. I'll admire you from afar, if that doesn't bother you."
I managed a small smile. "I don't mind."
She bit her lip, nodded once. "Um… thank you for your time, Felix."
Then she turned, gathering her things. At the last moment, she looked back, smiled faintly, and waved goodbye. I waved back.
Later, in my dorm, Vergel sprawled beside me on the bed, reading the letter aloud with exaggerated dramatics.
"…Seeing your smile brightens my day, your presence brings me comfort…" He dropped the letter with a groan. "Someone actually confessed to you? Ugh. Not cute."
"Why?" I frowned.
"Don't go for it," he warned, poking my chest. "If she likes you, that's just liking you. If she pursues you—that's different. That's effort. That's building something. A handmade letter, your favorite snacks… this isn't romance, it's bait."
I raised a brow. "But isn't that what guys usually do?"
He sat up and smacked me with a pillow. "Doesn't matter! That kind of confession is outdated. Straight out of some cheesy drama. Real life doesn't deal in happy endings, Felix—just happy moments. Those movie endings? They're only moments before another beginning."
I blinked, quietly impressed. "You're saying this like you've dated before. You're not hiding something, are you, Kyoi Vergel?" I narrowed my eyes.
"Dating my ass."
"But Mr. Ro—"
Another smack with the pillow. "I don't! That's just a cover—never mind! Piece of shit."
He stormed off the bed, slamming the door on his way out.
"Hey, Kyoi!" I shouted after him, laughing. His first name always sounded sharp in my mouth. No wonder I usually called him by his last. He was sulking again.