Julian spends the rest of his Sunday sprawled out on his bed, rolling from one end to the other, sneaking glances at his screen. Since he'd texted "thanks again", he'd only gotten a reply with a smiley face—a colon and a parenthesis that made him let out another squeal. His hangover was almost cured. Just like that.

After dinner around 7:30, he attempts to do some reading for tomorrow's English class. With two out of five pages in, he caves to the temptation and types out another text.

Julian's heart skips a beat when he responds immediately.

A five-minute delay ensues. Julian nearly stops breathing until the most awaited reply pops up:

Fully recharged, Julian looks up cafés near the classroom or the club room so he could pick them up after class, hassle-free.

Even his choice of drink is cool...

Julian heaves a sigh. He shouldn't get carried away. This might be it for him—enjoying the thrill these brief, unassuming exchanges could bring him. When all is said and done, the slice of attention he could receive doesn't mean his feelings would ever get reciprocated.

This doesn't discourage him, however. There's some peace in attempting to accept what can and can't be.

And so, the next morning, Julian is in his element, whistling as he strolls along the sidewalks and hallways.

He's among the early students in the room. Jackpot! He gets to select a seat, though there's a risk of the previous occupant secretly hating him for taking their spot.

Not in the mood for invisible chair rivalry, Julian settles on the same row from the first day of class. He arranges his stuff, rocking his legs. He cannot wait for three hours of storytelling to be over, especially when the stories mostly concern the Professor's private life.

Students trickle in a few minutes later. One of them is Joaquin, whose arrival catches Julian's attention. To Julian's surprise, Joaquin meets his gaze and then starts walking toward him.

Julian blinks as he watches Joaquin sit beside him casually, dropping his bag on the floor.

"Good morning," Joaquin greets, booting his laptop on.

"Oh. Ah. Good morning...?"

"You alright?"

"Yes," Julian quips, composing himself. "I'm alright."

"Good. Did you finish the readings?"

"'Course I did!" he exclaims. In reality, he had barely skimmed it. Julian was too distracted.  "Did you? Actually, don't answer that. I bet that's the one thing that hasn't changed about you. You're still a nerd."

A corner of Joaquin's lips quirks up.

"Hah! Did you just smile after I called you a nerd?" Julian teases, then pokes a finger on Joaquin's left cheek, earning a playful swat.

"I didn't." Joaquin bites his grin back. "And how about you? You're the same old kid."

"Yup. I am the same old kid," Julian answers, leaning his head on the table, eyes locked on Joaquin. "Your same old friend."

Joaquin's chin quivers slightly as the hint of a smile fades, the sound of his beating heart getting louder with every breath. But there's also a knot at the pit of his stomach he can't disregard.

When he looks at Julian, he's reminded of the things that damaged him. Of the days he spent terrified of his mother when she would curse and whip him and the way she didn't bat an eye when he walked out with his father.

Her final bitter words still ring in his ears: Get him out of my sight.

He chokes back the building lump in his throat.

Joaquin's childhood had been stolen from him—a harsh blur of streets, hunger, and constant moving from place to place. But Julian had been the one to make him feel like he could finally be a child, someone who didn't have to focus on survival. Julian, along with Tita Lina, had given him refuge at his lowest. They gave him a home. Comfort. Safety.

Julian was his safe space.

So why is he hesitating to return to how things were?

Joaquin can't make sense of his own feelings. None of this is Julian's fault. If anything, Joaquin should be the one reaching out. He owes him an apology—for ghosting him without explanation, for writing promises he didn't keep, for making Julian wait. And wait. And wait.

If he had just told Julian the truth—that moving on felt like obliterating everything, even him—he knows Julian would have understood.

Joaquin should be the one doing the chasing.

"Are you okay?" Julian's voice pulls him from his thoughts as the Professor enters the room.

Joaquin breaks eye contact, poking his tongue into his cheek. "Yeah," he lies. "I'm fine."

******

The day could not get any better for Julian. Joaquin sat next to him during class and spoke to him as if they'd somehow leaped back to nine years ago.

It might be a bit of a stretch, but it's starting to feel... normal, whatever that was.

After class, Joaquin packs up hastily, flings his bag on, and says, "I've got to take care of something first. See you in a bit?"

Julian tips his head, bemused. "Okay. See you...in a bit?" He watches Joaquin depart the room and replays their conversation in his head. See you in a bit? Did they make plans?

Ah. Maybe Joaquin's gonna pop in the club room. That calls for some treats. Joaquin has a soft spot for cinnamon buns and anything sweet, so Julian heads over to the coffee shop on the first floor of Humanities, and picks up two cups of Americano, in case Joaquin also wants one, and a chai latte for himself. Then he adds a few brownies, also for Joaquin.

When he arrives at the club room, one member of the graphics team is on her way out. They exchange courtesies, and then Julian is left to himself. He wanders around the space, his attention captured by the pinboard.

He discovers a candid shot of Alexander, where he seems to be doing volunteer work. Next to it is Joaquin's picture, who has a fairly bright smile as he receives an award (?) from a blonde woman. His glasses in the photo are chunkier, unlike his current pair. He prefers the one he has now; these new frames make his brown eyes appear clearer and somehow... more forgiving.

Julian glances around, and with no one in sight, he pulls his phone out and snaps a copy of Joaquin's photo. Something he can show his mother in case Joaquin declines to meet her. But with how it went earlier, the chances of that have dropped.

Alexander hasn't arrived yet, and the coffee's cooling down. Julian decides to send a quick text:

The response is instant.

Julian turns around as the door swings open, and a sharp intake of breath escapes him. "J-Joaquin... you're here."

"Hey." Joaquin comes in, shutting the door behind him. "Sorry, I'm late. I had to drop by the library to return a book."

Julian's feet have been nailed to the ground, his mouth drying up. The cells in his brain are practically having a chaotic emergency meeting. It wasn't Alexander. He was the last face he could remember prior to his blackout state, but it wasn't him.

"You ordered two cups?"

Julian snaps out of his trance, mortified. "Oh! Yes! You know... j-just in case," he stammers, handing the Americano to Joaquin, then he swiftly changes the contact name in his phone.

He feels so ridiculous. Joaquin mostly ignored him that night so he hadn't even considered him. And why did he assume it'd be Alexander? It could've been Evan, Myka, or anyone else from the org! He had twenty people to choose from!

"And I have brownies. I know you like... treats."

The truth, somehow, doesn't make him feel that disappointed.

"Okay? Thanks."

Because it's Joaquin... That's as good as it gets.

As Joaquin picks up a brownie, Julian works up the nerve to ask, "So, uh, that night... when you took me back to the dorm?"

"What about it?"

Julian's stomach unclenches with the confirmation. "Just... thank you. I don't really remember much. That was my first time drinking and getting wasted so I'm a little, um, worried I did something dumb. Don't know what kind of drunk I am."

"You were fine. I've seen worse."

"I really didn't make your life difficult?"

"No," Joaquin answers. It was jarring, and the encounter did leave Joaquin flustered, but Julian wasn't difficult to look after. "As I said, don't worry about it. Just try not to make it a habit, okay?"

"Eh? Why? You can take care of me every single time!"

He tuts, shooting him a steely look. "Julian..."

"I'm joking! I'll behave," Julian laughs. "Anyway, uh..."

"What?"

"Mama... she—"

"Oh! You guys are here," Alexander's voice cuts through as he sets foot into the room. "And you have treats?"

"Ah, yes! Might not be as warm, but... here," Julian answers coyly, taking the last cup and giving it to Alexander, who pats Joaquin on the shoulder before sliding into one of the chairs.

"Thank you," Alexander utters, sipping from the cup. "Tastes good."

"You also like Americano?"

"I'm more of a tea guy."

"Me, too!" Julian replies, elated.

Joaquin shifts in his seat, his eyebrows narrowing slightly. Once again, he's back to being on edge. "Alex," he utters. "Where's Lisa? Don't you eat lunch together?"

"Eh. As you can see, I'm here." Alexander lifts a shoulder into a shrug that speaks to how much he cares or... doesn't care? "Lisa's always busy with med school stuff, so I guess we know how it's gonna go."

Julian frowns. "How...?"

"We're going to break up. Or rather, she's gonna dump me."

"Oh."

Joaquin doesn't like the hidden mirth in Julian's tone. Alexander might've missed it—but not him.

Reluctantly, Julian prods, "Uh... Is that your thing?"

"What?"

"Dating around," Joaquin fills in.

Alexander chuckles and taps his fingers thoughtfully on his bottom lip. "Well, I do date a lot, so yes, I guess it's my thing?"

The light in Julian's eyes dim, and Joaquin inadvertently crumples his empty cup, disliking where the discussion has gone.

Alexander bites into a brownie and says, "Joaquin does it, too."

"I don't," he groans.

"You just broke up with Myka."

Joaquin scowls at Alexander. He sniggers and darts his gaze at Julian, who has become quiet, fidgeting with a loose thread from his pants.

"I have a class, so I'm gonna head out," Joaquin announces abruptly, standing up and throwing his cup into the bin. "I'll see you in the field."

"The field?" Julian repeats.

"Yeah, we have a friendly soccer game tonight," Alexander answers. "You should come!"