Joaquin stabs the call button for the third time but to no avail. His worry mounting, he kills the ignition and gets out of the car, stretching his neck and hoping to catch sight of Julian's shadow.

His window is unlit. Is he already in bed? It's only almost 8 in the evening. He sounded a bit off in the morning, maybe even unwell.

Or is he just avoiding him?

With a decisive breath, Joaquin strides toward the building. He wouldn't be able to go home without an answer. The rest could wait; he just needs to confirm that Julian is okay.

In the lobby, Joaquin is intercepted by someone he knows from one of his major courses. Polite but restless, he participates in five good minutes of rushed small talk, his mind inevitably floating to Julian.

Once he arrives at his target destination, he calls out lightly. "Julian? You in there?"

The lack of response is unnerving. He presses his ear on the cold surface of the doorframe, trying to detect any motion or sound.

"Julian—?"

Joaquin lurches forward and loses his balance as the door abruptly opens. Still in outdoor clothes, Julian stands in there, eyes swollen, his nose stuffed with tissues.

"What..." Joaquin doesn't finish his question, a preliminary answer crystallizing in his mind in a split second. He doesn't know what it is exactly, but he's aware it's because of him. "I'm... sorry."

Julian shuffles back into the room with a weary shrug and lets Joaquin follow him without a word.

Julian plops down on the floor with a muted groan, and Joaquin sits next to him. Guilt claws at him as he takes in the scattered mess across the floor, his lungs barely performing their functions. Every fiber of him wants to touch Julian. Bridge the distance. But he feels undeserving of everything, including the reassurance he covets.

Sniffling, Julian mumbles, "I was... out with Ate Myka. I saw you. Outside the restaurant."

Joaquin's head snaps to him. He croaks, "It's not what it looked like, I swear—"

Julian nods timidly, curling tighter into himself. "I know."

Joaquin squishes his eyebrows. The apparent resignation behind Julian's words feels like a wall that is blocking him out. Then, slowly, his heart begins to thud.

Julian's round eyes, once so bright and full of optimism, are dead. Like Joaquin has broken something fragile inside him.

Leaning in, he stammers, "O-Okay. If that's clear, then... I wanted to talk to you. Um, it's been difficult lately. I'm sorry. I don't even know how to make it up to you, but—"

"You promise it'll be better this time?" Julian cuts in, his voice inaudible but pointed, hitting the bull's eye. All of a sudden, it's as if an imperceptible clock has started to tick in the back of Joaquin's head. Time is running out. He has to defuse the bomb.

Fix this.

Joaquin draws a deep breath. "Look, Julian, Katie's offered to help."

"Help? What kind of help?"

"This is just... something to think about, okay? Nothing's set—"

"What is it?" Julian asks flatly.

"She, um, she suggested we could just tell our parents it's going well between us. So neither of us would have to get set up anymore."

The silence that ensues is deafening and unforgiving. Saying it out loud himself feels worse than he imagined, and he squirms as Julian's expression shifts. If his eyes were dead earlier, they're now completely soulless.

"Y-You know what? It's a dumb idea. Forget it—"

"No," Julian mutters, eyes darting to the ceiling. "It's... a good idea. Might be helpful for you."

"For me?"

Julian expels a breath, drawn-out and slow. He's mulled this over numerous times, brushing off the idea whenever it comes. Because back then, he'd clung to his stubbornness, his confidence, his foolish beliefs that he was strong. That he was content with the way things were.

Were.

But that was then. That version of him feels so distant now.

He'd been naive.

Julian locks gazes with Joaquin, moisture obscuring his vision. But he can still recognize the confusion. The fear.

The despair.

Julian gathers his resolve. He can't keep pretending that everything is fine. He can't stay like this, wearing his rose-tinted glasses when the truth is staring back at him.

Relationships are hard. Too hard. And obviously, he isn't ready.

"Joaquin, I think we... have to take a step back. Just... go back to being friends."

The words ooze certainty, taking the form of glass shards and stabbing Joaquin's chest, slashing his heart. He rises to his feet, his legs unstable, and he paces back and forth. His fingers quiver, though they have also lost their strength, staying limp at his sides.

"I... I know it's b-been tough," he stutters, voice cracking. "I'm so sorry. Let's just try to work it out... Please, don't..."

"Don't be sorry. I'm not angry," Julian clarifies, his tone devoid of blame yet heavy with fatigue. "But it has been tough. Tougher than I thought it'd be. And I don't blame you at all. I walked into this with my eyes open, and I thought I could handle it. But... The reality is, I'm... I'm not—"

Joaquin whips around to face him. "Julian, come on. You know I... I'm not like you. I can't just tell the world I'm in a relationship with a guy. My father's all I've got—"

"I get that," Julian snaps, his tone rising with pent-up frustration. "Why do you think I've stayed quiet?"

"If you get it, then why are you saying this? Why wouldn't you let me just think...?" Joaquin presses, crouching so they can be eye-to-eye.

"Think of what? And for how long? Because I can't keep sitting here! Waiting! Can't you see? This is breaking me. This is breaking me more than it's making me happy," Julian blurts out, tears spilling freely down his cheeks. "Joaquin, I can't do this anymore. Do you know what runs through my head while you're out there meeting some other girl?"

Julian's fists tighten, his knuckles whitening. "Would he like her this time? Would he choose her this time? Would she be the one who'd finally take him away? Because being with a woman... it's how it goes. It's what's acceptable."

"No, Julian, that's not... I would never—"

"That's not the point. Don't you get it? I can't deal with it anymore."

"I'm just trying to make this work," Joaquin breathes out, pleading. "Can't we please try one more time? Please?"

Julian purses his lips, blowing his nose into a crumpled tissue, and doesn't answer.

Joaquin grinds his teeth. He takes his glasses off and swipes the tears in the corners of his eyes with his wrist. "You think you understand, but you don't... I don't have that choice."

"I do understand! I do, but I—"

"You don't," Joaquin murmurs with finality. "You've had Tita Lina all your life. She'd forgive you for anything—anything. You could commit murder, and she'd still love you. But me?"

Joaquin was just a newborn, barely hanging onto life. He had to rely on the mercy of strangers who lived from hand to mouth. How could Julian possibly understand that? How could he understand that Joaquin carries the terror of not knowing if someone would stay? The reassurance that he'd be loved no matter what?

Meanwhile, Julian's shoulders sink even lower. When he spoke to Joaquin's father, he could see how much he cared about his son. How ashamed he was for what Joaquin had gone through because he wasn't around. He might not know everything about Joaquin, but Julian doesn't believe Dennis would scorn him for being different from what he'd expected.

But he can't force Joaquin to restructure his reality. Not when he's committed to being the perfect son. Not when he's frightened of the slightest chance of rejection.

Julian inches closer and takes his hand. "Okay. I guess I... don't. And that's why... I'm letting you go. This is on me. I shouldn't have forced myself back into your life when I can't... I can't be the one you need. I'm... so sorry."

Joaquin grips his hand tighter and pulls him into a hug. Julian freezes, his heart thumping and breaking all at once.

In one final act of hopelessness, Joaquin states, "I'll tell my Dad."

Julian tries to wriggle free, panicking. "You wouldn't, and you don't have to. It's your journey, so it's your choice. I won't be the reason you feel like you have to make that choice."

"I'll tell him."

Julian sighs and shoves him as gently as possible. "No, you wouldn't."

"Julian," Joaquin mutters between muffled sobs. "Don't break up with me... Please. I can't lose you, too."

Julian steels himself even though all he wants to do is to take it all back. Tell him it'd be okay. That he could take the hit. Again.

But he knows that's a lie—a lie that will make him resent himself and Joaquin and everything else. And he's not that kind of person. He doesn't want to be.

Julian gets up and saunters to the nightstand. He rifles through the drawer, holding another torrent of tears at bay. Joaquin, eyes fixed on the floor, struggles to steady himself.

The countdown is over. The bomb has detonated, annihilating him and everything they've once had.

"Do you... regret it?" Joaquin's voice shakes. "D-Do you regret us?"

Would it have been better if Julian never fell for him? If they stayed friends like when they were kids?

Would that have kept Joaquin close, kept him by his side forever?

But who is Julian fooling?

It had always been more than that. More than friendship. And because he had been blindsided by his own feelings, they've gotten themselves into this gigantic hole, and he doesn't know how to crawl out.

"I'm sorry," Julian whispers helplessly. He turns around and hands over the birthday coupon.

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he'd use Joaquin's present against him, like this.

******

Joaquin walks into the house on autopilot. It's a blessing he's made it home in one piece. He can't even recall driving himself.

Was any of it real? Did he really reconnect with Julian after all these years? Did they truly begin something, or was it all a transient dream?

Joaquin's knees weaken, and he seeks aid from the wall as his mind races.

Of course, it all happened. That's why it fucking hurts right now. This is probably karma biting him in the ass, a punishment for ghosting Julian.

"Joaquin, are you there?"

The voice yanks him from his stupor, and he drags himself toward the source. His father, as usual, is reading the news in the dining area. Still in his tailored suit, he raises his gaze and beckons Joaquin to join him.

"Why do you look so tired?" Dennis asks, lowering his paper.

Joaquin avoids eye contact, his chest tightening as he approaches. He should tell his father. Telling him would fix everything.

No, not everything. But he would stop setting him up, would he? Or would he insist that he date a woman like everyone else expects?

Or worse, would he disown him?

"Joaquin?"

His eyelids flutter, feeling disoriented. His father is now standing close to him, squinting in concern and suspicion. Searching his face for hints.

"Did you cry—?"

His heart skips a beat. "I h-had something in my eye. Rubbed it too much..." He stumbles a step back, his vision tunneling.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-Yeah. All good. Uh, I'm going up." Joaquin pivots on his heels and flees.

As it turns out, Julian knows him better than he knows himself.

He's seen from miles away that he's a coward.

******

Julian slams the taxi door shut, flinging his backpack over his shoulders, his steps deliberate and sluggish. He gazes up at his parents' window. The lights are off, as expected. It's close to midnight, after all.

He unlocks the door and is greeted by a tranquility, a familiarity, that fails to alleviate the storm in his core.

Julian pauses in front of his parents' door. A warm hug from his mother would be a lifeline right now. But she doesn't know, and she's already in bed, resting. He wonders, for the thousandth time, what she'd say if she were aware.

He shakes his head. He can't tell her. She might change her mind about Joaquin. However, he needs to make up another excuse why he can't visit anymore.

Oh, his mother would be so disappointed.

This is truly his fault. If he hadn't kissed him, none of these would have spiraled out of control. He should've stayed within the lines of friendship.

He could've prevented hurting himself.

Hurting Joaquin.

Julian sniffles, biting his bottom lip to suppress a whimper. He heads to his room, dropping his bag to the floor. Digging through his cabinet for pajamas, a faint knock resonates.

"Julian?"

He turns as the door creaks open. Lina, in her nightgown, steps in and examines him, her voice soft and hoarse. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to come tomorrow—"

Without a warning, Julian strides and throws himself into her unsuspecting arms.

"Julian? What's wrong?"

He bawls his eyes out uncontrollably, clutching her tightly. "M-Ma...!"

Lina holds him close, brushing his hair. "What happened? Julian, talk to me."

"It hurts," he wails. "It hurts so much."

She pushes him, scanning his body for any signs of wounds or bruises. "Where? Where does it hurt?"

Julian places a trembling hand over his chest, crumpling his shirt as if trying to hold the pain in.

Lina's lips part, trembling. "Oh, baby..." She wraps Julian around her arms again, rocking him gently. "It's okay. I've got you..."

"I'm sorry..."

"What? What are you sorry for?"

"I'm sorry... Me and Joaquin..." he cries. "Ma, it hurts. Please, make it stop..."

******

A/N: I'll be honest with y'all. The next part (second season) is the original story I was thinking about before I decided to revive this old one. I've managed to weave them together! Yay!

I'm sorry I had to drop this chapter during the holiday season. It's just how the scheduling worked. I promised you angst. :p BUT I also promised that this is still FLUFF. Unfortunately, it gets worse before it gets better. If you're surprised by how this ended though, the cover says "the third time's the charm" ICYMI.

I'll take a short hiatus to spend some time with family. The next season will begin around first or second week of January. I do have some chapters written, but they need editing. I might post a few if time permits!

Hints for the second season? Office romance-ish. Forced proximity. Adult versions of the characters. Some spice? :p

I'll drop some extras after this one. Happy holidays! See you soon! xx