Jay-Jay's POV
I wake up tired.
Not the normal I-stayed-up-working-too-late tired.
The kind of tired that sits behind my eyes and presses on my chest like it knows something I don't want to admit yet.
For a few seconds, I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, counting my breaths like that might steady me. My body feels heavy, warm under the blanket, but my mind is already running—replaying things I didn't give it permission to remember.
Last night.
His voice.
The way the air shifted when he stood too close.
The way I almost didn't move away.
I groan softly and push myself up.
"Get up," I mutter to myself. "You're late. Again."
Routine saves me. Habit saves me. If I follow the same steps every morning—brush teeth, wash face, tie hair—I won't think too much. Thinking is dangerous right now.
I swing my legs off the bed and stand.
Everything feels normal.
Too normal.
The floor is cool beneath my feet as I pad toward the door. I open it without thinking, already planning coffee, emails, work—anything that isn't him.
Then I step out.
And everything stops.
Keifer is asleep on my couch.
For a split second, my brain refuses to process the image. Like it's a memory bleeding into the present, like I've slipped back ten years without warning.
He's sprawled there like he didn't mean to fall asleep but lost the fight anyway.
His hair is a mess—dark strands falling over his forehead in that unfair way that always made him look younger, softer. The blanket on him is half-fallen, barely covering his legs. One arm dangles off the couch, fingers loose, relaxed, like he trusts the world not to hurt him while he sleeps.
Like he trusts me.
My chest tightens so suddenly it actually hurts.
"Oh," I whisper before I can stop myself.
The sound is barely there, but my heart reacts like I screamed.
Memories rush in without mercy.
The couch last night.
The way he looked at me when I laughed.
The way his voice dropped when he said my name—slow, familiar, dangerous.
The way he didn't touch me… and how that somehow made it worse.
I swallow.
He shifts slightly in his sleep, mumbling something under his breath.
"Jay…" he murmurs, voice rough, half-gone with sleep. "…you steal the blanket again, I swear…"
My breath catches.
Even asleep, he finds a way to tease me.
I should be annoyed.
I should roll my eyes and think typical Keifer.
Instead, heat creeps up my neck.
"Idiot," I whisper, not unkindly.
He sighs, turning his face into the cushion, and for one reckless moment I just stand there, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest.
This is dangerous.
This is exactly how it starts.
My chest tightens more, panic curling under my ribs.
If I see his eyes…
If he wakes up and smiles at me like nothing has changed—
I won't survive today.
I turn around so fast I nearly trip.
Back into my room. Door shut. Lock clicked.
Only when my back hits the door do I let out the breath I've been holding.
I press my palm to my chest, feeling my heart hammer like it's trying to escape.
"Get it together," I whisper. "You're fine. You're in control."
I slide down the door until I'm sitting on the floor, knees pulled to my chest.
Silence.
Not the peaceful kind.
The heavy kind. The kind that screams louder than words.
If I see his eyes…
So I won't.
I stand abruptly, wiping my palms on my pants like I touched fire instead of a memory.
Avoid him.
That's the plan.
Avoidance is easier than explaining. Easier than admitting. Easier than standing in front of him and pretending my heart doesn't still recognize his.
I change quickly, choosing clothes that feel like armor—structured, sharp, distant. I tie my hair back tight, no loose strands, no softness.
When I open the door again, I listen first.
Silence.
I step out carefully.
He's still asleep.
Good.
Relief washes through me, immediately followed by guilt.
I move quietly through the apartment, grabbing my bag, my phone, my keys. I don't slow down.
I don't look at him again.
As I reach the door, his voice—sleep-thick and lazy—drifts across the room.
"Running away already, my Queen?" he murmurs, eyes still closed, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.
My hand freezes on the doorknob.
Of course he'd wake up just enough to ruin my resolve.
"I'm not running," I say, keeping my voice flat. Controlled. "I'm going to work."
He hums softly. "Sure. That's what you said the last time too."
I don't turn around.
"Go back to sleep, Keifer."
He chuckles quietly. "Hard to sleep when the view just walked past."
Heat flares again, unwanted and sharp.
"Keifer," I warn.
"Relax," he says lightly. "Normal and safe thoughts only. Mostly."
I grit my teeth.
This is exactly why I can't stay.
I open the door.
"Don't wait up," I say, already stepping out.
He doesn't reply.
That scares me more than his teasing ever could.
The door closes behind me with a soft click, final and deliberate.
Silence becomes my shield.
And as I walk away, heart racing, one thought repeats over and over—
I can't face him.
Not today.
Not when one look might undo everything I worked so hard to survive.
Avoidance is a language.
I didn't know that before—but this morning, I'm fluent in it.
I move through the apartment like a ghost, footsteps soft, presence minimal. If I don't look at him, if I don't speak too much, maybe my heart will stop pounding like it's late for something important.
Keifer is awake now.
I know without looking.
I can feel him.
"Morning," he says casually from the couch, voice warm, familiar—dangerous.
I don't turn my head.
"Morning."
Flat. Clean. Nothing extra.
I hear him shift, probably sitting up, probably already watching me like he always does. I grab my mug, pour coffee, focus on the sound of liquid hitting ceramic instead of the way my spine tightens.
He waits.
Then, like he's testing a wire he's not sure is live, he adds lightly, "You ran pretty fast earlier. Olympic record?"
I take a sip. Too hot. I don't flinch.
"I was late."
A beat.
"Uh-huh," he hums. "You're never late."
I finally glance at the clock on the wall—anything but him.
"I am today."
Silence stretches.
I hate that I know when he's frowning without seeing it.
He clears his throat, tries again, softer this time. "You sleep okay?"
"Yes."
One word. No eye contact.
He exhales slowly. "Jay."
I tense.
"What."
Not what's wrong, not yeah?—just what.
He chuckles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. I know it doesn't. "Wow. Cold. Did I miss a memo? New office policy: ignore the insanely handsome guy on your couch?"
I almost smile.
Almost.
Instead, I rinse my mug, set it in the sink carefully. Controlled movements. Armor on.
"I don't have time for this," I say.
"For what?" he asks. "Existing?"
I sling my bag over my shoulder.
He stands now—I feel the shift in the room like gravity changed. "Did I do something?"
My fingers tighten around the strap.
"No."
Quick. Automatic.
"…You sure?"
"Yes."
He steps closer. Not touching. Just close enough that I can smell him—soap, warmth, something undeniably Keifer.
"You won't even look at me," he says quietly.
"I'm late."
Again.
My favorite shield.
I move past him, deliberately angling my body away. As I reach the door, he speaks again, tone lighter but edged.
"You know, if you keep ignoring me like this, I'm going to assume you're trying to flirt."
I pause.
Just for a second.
"That's a weird conclusion," I say without turning.
He grins—I can hear it. "You always flirt by pretending I don't exist. It's very 'hard-to-get CEO' of you."
I open the door.
"Keifer," I warn.
"Yes, my queen?"
I hesitate. My hand trembles on the doorknob.
Don't look at him.
Don't do it.
"I'll be late," I say.
"You're always late," he replies softly.
I leave.
The door closes behind me with finality that makes my chest ache.
Keifer's POV
Okay.
That went… great.
I stand there staring at the closed door like it personally betrayed me.
She didn't look at me. Not once.
Jay not looking at me is like the sun deciding it doesn't rise today—unnatural and mildly offensive.
"She's fine," I mutter to myself. "Totally fine. Just… aggressively fine."
I grab my phone, thumb hovering over her contact.
Jay ❤️
(Yes, I added the heart back. No, I'm not apologizing.)
I call.
Straight to voicemail.
I blink. Call again.
Voicemail.
"…Huh," I mutter. "So that's how it is."
I text instead.
Keifer: You left your coffee half-finished. This is either a crime or a cry for help.
No reply.
I frown.
This isn't playful ignoring.
This is… running.
And Jay only runs when something scares her.
Or when I do.
Jay-Jay's POV
My phone vibrates in my bag.
I don't check it.
I already know.
I walk into the office, heels sharp against the floor, posture perfect. CEO mode activated. Meetings blur together—numbers, strategies, contracts. Everyone sees competence. No one sees the knot in my chest.
My phone vibrates again.
I silence it.
Again.
Samy notices first.
"You okay?" she asks, peering at me over her coffee.
"Fine."
Coel raises an eyebrow. "You've said 'fine' seven times in the last hour. Statistically unlikely."
"I'm busy," I snap, then immediately soften. "Sorry. Just… work."
They exchange a look.
My phone buzzes again.
I don't look.
I can't.
If I hear his voice, I'll turn around. I'll go back. I'll unravel.
By noon, I've ignored six calls.
By afternoon, guilt starts to bleed through the fear.
He's going to think he did something wrong.
The thought twists painfully.
But I keep running anyway.
Keifer's POV
By the fourth unanswered call, I stop smiling.
By the sixth, I stop joking.
By the time the sun starts dipping, something ugly coils in my chest.
"She's avoiding me," I say aloud, pacing my living room. "On purpose."
I check the time. Normally, at this hour, I'd already be at her office pretending I had business there.
Today?
Nothing.
I don't go.
Because if she's pushing me away, I need to know why—not force my way in.
Still… it hurts.
I text one last time.
Keifer: At least tell me you're alive, Jay. I'm dramatic but not psychic.
No reply.
I drop the phone onto the couch and lean back, staring at the ceiling.
"Old habits," I mutter. "You run. I chase."
This time… I'm not sure which one of us will break first.
Jay-Jay's POV
Night falls before I realize it.
I sit alone in my office, lights dim, city glowing outside the windows. My phone is face down on the desk like it might bite me.
I pick it up.
Seven missed calls.
All from him.
My chest tightens painfully.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to no one.
But I don't call back.
Avoidance is a language.
And right now, it's the only one I know how to speak.
By every technical definition, I'm present.
I'm at my desk.
My laptop is open.
Emails are answered.
Meetings are attended.
But my mind?
Somewhere between last night and the unanswered calls on my phone.
Samy notices first. She always does.
"You look like you fought sleep and lost," she says, leaning against my desk with her coffee.
"I slept," I reply automatically.
Coel doesn't even look up from his tablet. "That's a lie."
I glare at him. Weakly. "Excuse me?"
"You usually insult Samy back by now," he says. "Or me. Or the chair. Something's wrong."
"I'm just tired," I insist.
Samy squints at me. "You're tired in a haunted Victorian child way."
"That's oddly specific."
"And accurate," Coel adds.
I sigh and rub my temples. "Can we not psychoanalyze me before noon?"
Samy holds up her hands. "Okay, okay. New plan. Coffee."
She slides a cup toward me like it's a peace offering.
I take a sip.
Nothing.
No spark. No comfort. No miracle.
"Coffee failed," I mutter.
Coel frowns. "That's serious."
They try anyway.
Samy starts telling me about a client who called her 'sweetheart' and then immediately forgot her name.
I normally would've laughed. Teased her. Suggested she invoice him for emotional damage.
Today?
I barely smile.
Coel cracks a joke about office romances being productivity killers.
I don't bite.
Samy and Coel exchange a look that says oh.
Samy lowers her voice. "Is this… Keifer-related?"
I stiffen.
"No."
Too fast.
Coel raises a brow. "That was suspiciously quick."
"I said I'm tired."
Samy studies me gently. "Jay… you're here, but you're not here."
I look down at my desk.
I don't answer.
The hours drag.
I keep glancing at the door.
Hating myself every time.
Because he's not coming.
He always comes.
Midday excuses. Fake errands. Coffee deliveries he doesn't need. Annoying comments that somehow make my entire day lighter.
Today?
Nothing.
The absence presses harder than his presence ever did.
Why does it hurt when I'm the one pushing him away?
The thought slices deeper than I expect.
Keifer's POV
I'm sitting in my car across the street from her building.
Not going in.
Which might be the hardest thing I've done all day.
"She needs space," I tell myself. "Be mature."
I glance at the clock.
"She also needs me," I argue back. "Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually. In all dimensions."
I grip the steering wheel.
"Okay, Keifer. Calm thoughts. Respect boundaries. Don't be dramatic."
My phone buzzes.
Not her.
I groan. "Of course."
I imagine her inside—quiet, guarded, pretending she's fine.
That image hurts worse than if she'd yelled at me.
"Fine," I mutter. "If she's avoiding me… I'll let her."
I pause.
"…For today."
Jay-Jay's POV
By afternoon, the office feels suffocating.
Every time someone laughs, it feels too loud.
Every time my phone lights up, my heart jumps—then sinks.
Still nothing from him.
I told myself I wanted distance.
So why does it feel like I'm the one being punished?
Samy slides into the chair beside me. "You wanna talk?"
"No."
She nods. "Okay. But when you do, I'm here."
Coel adds quietly, "So am I."
I swallow.
"Thanks."
I don't trust my voice beyond that.
When evening finally comes, I pack up quickly.
Too quickly.
Like I'm running from something.
Or someone.
As I step outside, the city air hits my face—cool, grounding.
My phone buzzes.
This time, I look.
Keifer: I didn't come by today.
Keifer: Not because I don't want to.
Keifer: Because I don't know if you want me to.
My chest tightens painfully.
I type.
Delete.
Type again.
Delete.
I lock my phone instead.
"Coward," I whisper to myself.
Keifer'sPOV
I watch the typing bubble appear.
Disappear.
Appear.
Disappear.
"Say something," I mutter.
It never comes.
I laugh softly, humorless. "You're killing me, Jay."
I lean back against my car, staring at the darkening sky.
Dirty thought tries to sneak in—I could distract her so easily if she let me—and I snort.
"Focus, idiot."
This isn't about teasing.
This is about fear.
And I don't know how to fight something I can't touch.
Jay-Jay's POV
The drive home is quiet.
Too quiet.
When I unlock my door, the emptiness greets me.
No teasing voice.
No messy couch.
No presence filling the space.
I drop my bag and sink onto the chair, exhausted.
I wanted space.
But not this.
I press my fingers to my lips, eyes burning.
"Why does it hurt?" I whisper. "Why him?"
Because it's always been him.
I knew that.
Avoiding him doesn't change it.
It only makes the truth louder.
By the time I reach my floor, my body feels like it's running on fumes and bad decisions.
Keys in hand.
Mind numb.
Heart… loud.
I'm already rehearsing how to avoid the couch, the hallway, the memories—
And then I see him.
Keifer.
Standing near my door like he belongs there.
Like he never left.
Like the hall itself bent to make space for him.
Leather jacket.
Hands in pockets.
Jaw tight.
Waiting.
My breath stutters.
Of course he's here.
The universe has never been subtle about him.
"Keifer," I say before I can stop myself.
He looks up.
God.
That look.
Relief flashes first—raw and unguarded—before it hardens into something sharper.
"You're back," he says.
I nod, already reaching for my door. "Long day."
"Funny," he replies lightly. Too lightly. "Because you ignored me all day."
I freeze.
I don't look at him. "My phone was on silent."
The words come out fast. Practiced.
Too easy.
The silence that follows is worse than shouting.
I feel him step closer.
Not invading.
Just… present.
"At least," he says quietly, firmly, "don't lie to me, Jay."
My throat tightens.
I turn toward him. "I wasn't—"
Before I can finish, his hand closes around my wrist.
Not rough.
Not controlling.
Desperate.
It's the kind of grip that says don't disappear on me again.
My breath catches.
"Keifer—" I whisper. "Where are we going?"
He doesn't answer.
Just gently but insistently guides me down the hall.
My pulse roars in my ears.
Keifer's POV
I told myself I'd stay calm.
I told myself I wouldn't corner her.
I told myself a lot of lies today.
The moment I see her, exhausted and guarded, something inside me snaps.
Not anger.
Fear.
She lies too easily.
That hurts more than silence ever could.
When I take her wrist, I make sure she knows—this isn't force.
This is me hanging on.
"Trust me," I mutter, more to myself than to her.
She doesn't pull away.
That almost undoes me.
The car ride is hell.
No music.
No teasing.
No sarcastic commentary from me about how she drives like she's fleeing a crime scene.
Just silence.
Thick.
Heavy.
I keep my eyes on the road because if I look at her, I might say something I can't take back.
Or worse—something too honest.
She shifts in her seat.
"Keifer," she tries again. "You're scaring me."
I exhale slowly. "I'm not angry."
"That doesn't help."
I almost laugh. Almost.
"Dirty thought of the hour," I mutter under my breath. "I should be comforting you right now."
She glares at me. "This is not the time for your—"
"I know," I interrupt. "I know. Just… ignore me."
She huffs. "That seems to be your solution today."
That lands.
Hard.
I grip the steering wheel tighter. "You're really good at that too, you know."
She goes quiet.
Jay-Jay's POV
The city fades.
Lights thin out.
Buildings give way to open roads and trees.
"Keifer," I say again, softer now. "Please talk to me."
Nothing.
The silence presses in on my chest until I can barely breathe.
I hate that part of me—the one that still feels safest with him driving.
Hate it.
Love it.
Both.
The car finally slows.
Stops.
We're surrounded by quiet.
Too quiet.
I step out after him, heart hammering.
The air smells like earth and night.
He turns his back to me.
And then I see it.
His shoulders shaking.
"Keifer…?" My voice breaks.
He wipes his face quickly, like he's angry at the tears for existing.
I've seen him cry before.
Once.
A lifetime ago.
Because of Yuri and my engagement 💍.
This time…
My chest aches.
"This is exactly like before," I whisper. "Only worse."
He laughs, broken. "Yeah. Because this time, it's you."
Keifer's POV
I don't want her to see me like this.
I really don't.
But the moment she says my name like that—soft, worried—I crack.
I turn to her.
And I don't hide it.
"I don't understand what you're doing," I say, voice rough but controlled. "You look at me like I'm a stranger. You avoid me like I hurt you."
She shakes her head. "You didn't—"
"Then why does it feel like you're leaving again?"
That does it.
Her eyes fill instantly.
God.
"I missed you," I continue, words spilling now. "Do you know what it felt like? Ten years ago? You vanished. No goodbye. No explanation."
Her hand lifts, hovering like she wants to touch me but isn't sure she's allowed.
"I searched," I admit. "I broke myself trying to find you."
Her tears fall silently.
"And then I see you again," I whisper. "And I think—finally. Everything will go back to normal."
I laugh bitterly. "But you won't even look at me."
She steps closer.
Her fingers brush my arm.
Electric.
"I can't take you ignoring me, Jay," I say softly. "Not when you mean this much."
Her hand tightens.
I meet her eyes.
"I love you," I say, voice shaking. "So freaking much. I loved you then. I love you now. I'll love you till the scientists find the end of the universe."
A beat.
Her thumb wipes a tear from my cheek.
And then she starts crying too.
My chest caves in.
She inhales shakily. "Keifer… I—"
The word hangs between us.
Fragile.
Dangerous.
Everything.
The air here feels the same.
Quiet.
Open.
Too honest.
And then—
I see it.
He's crying.
Not dramatic.
Not loud.
Just silent tears sliding down a face that's always been too proud to let them fall.
"Keifer…" My voice breaks before I reach him.
He laughs once, breathless. "Wow. Hearing my name like that should be illegal."
I choke out a half-sob, half-laugh. "This is not the time for your—"
"Dirty-minded coping mechanism?" he finishes weakly. "Yeah. Sorry. Old habit."
That does it.
I step closer.
"You brought me here," I whisper,
He replies without looking at me. "Because you're the only one who ever stayed when I fell apart."
My hands shake as I reach up and wipe his tears.
My fingers are warm.
His skin is cold.
"I don't understand," he says, voice steady but cracking underneath. "Why are you doing this to me?"
I inhale sharply.
"I miss you," he continues, finally turning to face me. His eyes are red. Vulnerable. Devastating. "Do you have any idea what it did to me when you left ten years ago?"
My throat closes.
"I searched everywhere," he says. "Every city. Every lead. Every rumor. You were just… gone."
I shake my head, tears spilling now. "I didn't mean to disappear like that."
"But you did," he replies softly. "And it broke me."
I press my palm to his cheek, wiping another tear—then another—until I realize my own face is wet too.
We're both crying.
Together.
"When I finally saw you again," he whispers, "I thought everything would go back to how it was."
His laugh is bitter this time. "I really believed that."
My heart pounds painfully.
"But you ignore me," he says. "You look away like I don't exist. Like I don't matter."
"That's not—"
"I can't take it, Jay," he cuts in, voice shaking. "I can handle anger. I can handle distance. But not this."
He steps closer, forehead nearly touching mine.
"Please."
The word shatters me.
"I love you," he says, raw and unfiltered. "So freaking much. I loved you then. I love you now."
A shaky breath.
"I'll love you till the scientists find the end of the universe."
My hands cup his face now, thumbs brushing his cheeks like I can somehow fix this with touch alone.
"Please," he repeats. "Don't do this to me."
Keifer's POV
She's crying too.
God, that hurts more than anything.
Her tears fall silently, like she's afraid to let them make noise. Like she thinks she doesn't deserve to be loud with her pain.
She wipes my tears again.
Then again.
Like she used to.
"You always did this," I murmur, attempting a weak smile. "Fixed me with your hands."
She huffs through tears. "You weren't broken."
I raise an eyebrow. "Jay, I cried over fictional characters and burnt toast. Let's not lie now."
A small laugh escapes her.
Victory.
Tiny. Fragile. But real.
Her fingers tremble against my jaw. "Keifer…"
I lean into her touch without thinking.
Dangerous.
But God, I missed this.
"I tried," I tell her softly. "I tried to move on. Tried to forget. Tried to be normal."
I grin faintly. "Didn't work. Turns out you're very hard to replace. Extremely annoying that way."
She shakes her head. "You're unbelievable."
"You love it."
She doesn't deny it.
That silence says everything.
"I don't want to pressure you," I say, serious now. "I just—needed you to know."
Her lips part.
Her breath stutters.
She wipes the last tear from my cheek, takes a deep breath, like she's bracing herself.
And then she looks at me.
Really looks at me.
The way she used to when she was about to say something that would change everything.
"I—"
The word hangs in the air.
Unfinished.
Terrifying.
Hopeful.
I hold my breath.