They decide to head straight to Julian's flat, but not without a debate about who should drive. Julian doesn't have a car, but he'd gotten his license several years ago. More importantly, he has common sense. In Joaquin's state, with exhaustion written all over his face, he thought it'd be unsafe.

On the other hand, Joaquin, still running on post-gym adrenaline and questionable judgment, insists that he can do it.

"I've driven in worse conditions."

That argument doesn't go well, and Julian plucks the keys from Joaquin's hands, glowering. "Not a chance."

He shoves Joaquin carefully into the passenger seat, clicking the seatbelt into place.

"You stay still," Julian warns, stern but caring. Joaquin releases a small sigh of defeat. Sometimes, he forgets which of them is older, especially nowadays.

Julian has grown. He's retained his optimism and kindness, his untamed and carefree energy, yet there's strength in how he speaks and moves. He takes charge when Joaquin can't. And it's strangely comforting. He makes it easy to let go, to lean into the rare chance to rest.

Joaquin stays quiet the entire ride. The rush fades, and the fatigue sinks into Joaquin's bones and muscles. He'd pushed himself way too hard, and now, his body is punishing him. His eyelids grow heavier by the second, and he secretly concedes—Julian has made the right call to take the wheel.

The steady movement of the car rocks Joaquin into a short nap.

Soon, Julian wakes him as they arrive at the parking garage. "Hey, Joaquin? Sorry, but where do you park?"

Joaquin blinks himself back into awareness. "Oh, yeah. Uh, A-12 stall."

"Got it."

In a few seconds, Julian parks at the spot. He turns the ignition off and shoots Joaquin a look. "Don't move."

"Julian, I'm not a child—"

"I don't care."

Joaquin opens his mouth, but Julian is already out of the car, unlocking his door. He unfastens Joaquin's seatbelt. Joaquin exhales, dragging himself out of the passenger side and slinging an arm around Julian's shoulder.

"I can walk," Joaquin says, though he leans for support. "Not that I'm complaining about this VIP treatment."

"Weird for you, huh? That you're being bossed around for once?"

Joaquin snickers. "I can tolerate being bossed around if it's you."

Julian rolls his eyes, grinning.

Once they reach Julian's apartment, Julian leads Joaquin to the bathroom. "Go wash up. I'll be back. I need to grab something from the pharmacy."

Joaquin skips protesting; it's clear he's not going to win today. Fifteen minutes later, Joaquin emerges from the shower, marginally refreshed. Julian is seated at the dining table, a small paper bag beside him, his forehead crumpled faintly.

"Sit."

Joaquin drops into the chair beside him.

"Shirt up."

Again, Joaquin heeds without a word, lifting his shirt to give Julian access to his torso.

Julian cringes at the swelling. He dips his fingers into the ointment and applies it in slow, circular motions.

"That stings," Joaquin complains, wincing.

"Yeah? Maybe don't go getting yourself hit next time?" Julian hisses.

It doesn't look that terrible, but he can't resist being worried. Why can't Joaquin get another hobby? One that doesn't involve this kind of risk? Would it kill him to take up something else, like soccer, again?

"It's normal to get a few injuries here and there."

"It was a sparring session." Julian seals the ointment with a loud click. "It wasn't an actual fight. And you didn't even wear headgear! What if you busted your face? Are you gonna show up to work looking like you lost a street brawl?"

Joaquin pulls his shirt down, exhaling. "Okay, okay, message received. Don't be angry." He pulls Julian into a hug, nuzzling his nose into his neck. "Thank you for coming to pick me up."

Julian's nostrils flare, jaw tight. Joaquin slants his head, studying his face with a pout. "Hey. Still upset with me?"

"I'm not upset." Julian pushes a tongue into his cheek. "But can you... can you at least be more careful? I thought this was a hobby, like your gym obsession."

"It is a hobby. It's not gonna get worse than this, I promise," he whispers then kisses his cheek. "I'm sorry. I'll be smarter next time. What if you come with me? So you can nag me in real-time."

"I don't think I can stand there while you get pummeled."

Joaquin laughs, though it pulls at his sore muscles. "I didn't get pummeled. You should've seen the other guy. I knocked him down."

"Oh, great. Are you seriously bragging about being so well-versed in violence?"

Joaquin wisely clams his mouth. Again, he's not going to win. Not tonight. Rather, he hugs Julian tighter, letting his actions speak: he's sorry, but he couldn't think of another way.

Julian caresses Joaquin's face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "But really... how are you doing?"

"Better," Joaquin replies sincerely. "You make everything better."

"Then... uh..."

"What is it?"

"What do you think about visiting... our house?"

Joaquin's shoulders lock, his gaze dropping to the floor.

"I mean, I haven't told her about us... getting back together. I thought it'd be great if we could go together, maybe tell her at the same time," Julian explains, yet sensing the unease, he adds, "But if you're not ready to talk to her—"

Joaquin lifts his head, his tone low but sure. "I'll go."

Julian blinks. "Y-You will?"

"Yeah. I should properly apologize."

"No, we're not doing this for an apology."

"I still think it's the right thing to do."

Julian heaves a deep sigh. "I doubt she's waiting for that, Joaquin. She just misses you and wants to see you happy. Wants to see you doing well. Even if you and I don't work out—"

"Which we will."

"Yes, we will," Julian reassures him, his lips twitching into a smile. "Mama will always treat you like her own."

Eyes brimming with tears, Joaquin relishes the sudden tide of comfort. He pushes down the knot in his throat. "Yeah... Alright. Let's go see her."

*****

Joaquin's face loses all color, his stomach twisting as Montez's residence comes into view. Six years ago, his Tita Lina had welcomed him with open arms, no questions asked. But that was before he'd ruined things with Julian. He's unsure what kind of reception to expect.

He respects her and considers her the closest thing he's had to a mother. Just imagining her being angry and disappointed in him twists his insides; it's more than he can handle.

"It's going to be okay," Julian says, confident and kind. He passes Joaquin a bouquet of white orchids from the backseat. "She knows we're coming. She's waiting for you."

Joaquin breathes in, his fingers tightening around the stems of the flowers. "Yeah. Okay."

Julian walks ahead, but as they halt by the door, he turns and offers Joaquin his hand. Joaquin accepts it, appreciative of the support. His knees may wobble, but with Julian here, he won't fall.

Three knocks. And they wait, the anticipation eating away at him.

When the door swings open, Joaquin's heart misses a beat. Julian bends down, and Mark flies into his arms, calling him, "Kuya!"

"Hey, Mark!"

Joaquin lingers by the threshold, rooted to the spot, as his gaze meets Lina's.

And as it was six years ago, she strides toward Joaquin with grace, marching past her two sons, and hugs him. "Welcome back."

His arms fall to his sides, the flowers trembling in his grip. His heart overflows with the weight of everything he's been holding inside.

At that moment, without thinking twice, Joaquin releases his burdens.

"I'm... I'm sorry... It's—It's all my fault..."

The tears pour, flowing without restraint.

Julian straightens up, clutching Mark's hand, his throat too tight to speak. His own heart fractures at the sight.

Lina recoils slightly, swiping a thumb over Joaquin's damp cheek. "Ssh, stop crying. People might think I'm scolding you."

"Tita... I didn't mean to..." Joaquin's sobs break his words into fragments. "I'm really sorry."

"Joaquin." Lina pats his shoulder gently. "Julian has chosen to put it behind him. I have no reason to hold anything against you. As I've always said, this house is your home, too."

She draws him in for another embrace. "You're family."

******

Lina scoops a generous amount of rice onto Joaquin's plate, then onto Julian's. "Eat up. There's plenty for everyone."

"Thanks, Ma," Julian says, picking up pieces of lumpiang shanghai with the tongs.

Joaquin simply watches. Across the table, Randy is keeping an eye on Mark, who happily eats on his own. Julian is nibbling on a lumpia. It feels odd, being back in the same room, surrounded by the same people. Odd, but touching.

He realizes it is still home.

Lina's eyes flick to Joaquin's plate.  "Joaquin, what do you like? Calamares? Afritada?"

"Ah, I'll help myself, Tita. I'm just waiting for you to finish."

Julian passes the tongs to him, prodding his arm. "You know she wouldn't let it go until you eat, right?"

"Yes," Lina jumps in. "Especially since you seem to have grown again! Julian, maybe you should start copying Joaquin's lifestyle."

Julian and Joaquin chuckle, recalling Julian's less-than-graceful gym session.

"I'm on it, Tita," Joaquin replies. Julian sticks his tongue out defiantly.

Randy, slicing vegetables for Mark, turns to him. "Joaquin, Julian said you are working at the same firm now. How's that been?"

"Oh, yes. Julian and I are on different floors. I just started, but I've been handling a lot of clients. Never a dull moment," Joaquin answers.

"Weren't you a bar topnotcher?"

"Yes. I placed sixth."

Julian's jaw falls. "Wait—You were? You never told me that!"

"It's not a big deal. People only care about the top one."

"Still!" Julian grins, clapping his hands. "You're amazing."

"I second that," Lina concurs. "As your former teacher, you make me proud."

Joaquin dips his chin, heat rushing to his cheeks. Somehow, in this house, a part of him reverts to being a kid.

"Where are you staying now? Do you still live with your Dad?" Lina asks, pouring water into their glasses.

He scratches the back of his neck. "My Dad's in the US with some relatives, but last time I spoke to him, he mentioned something about travelling."

Julian listens silently, recalling a phone call he had accidentally walked into. Joaquin's tone implied concern then, yet he didn't ask. He was afraid to discuss a touchy subject.

It was probably nothing.

Joaquin casts a coy glance at Julian. "I live across from Julian's apartment."

An eyebrow arched, Randy follows up, "Ah, so that's how you reconciled?"

Julian shrugs. "More or less."

Lina and Randy exchange amused looks with each other.

"So, you made up?"

"Yep," Julian responds, chewing his calamares. "Obviously! I wouldn't drag him here if we weren't on speaking terms."

Joaquin clears his throat, shifting in his seat. He rests a hand on Julian's arm.

"Um, Julian and I... We... We're dating."

Julian's eyes widen. "Oh!" He swiftly turns to face his parents. "That's true. And for the record, it was very recent. I wasn't hiding it, okay?"

Lina's face brightens, sighing in relief. "Thank goodness."

"What's with the reaction, Ma?"

"I prayed it'd be Joaquin."

"What?! You asked God to make Joaquin gay?!"

Randy and Joaquin explode into laughter, clutching their sides and shaking their heads.

"No," Lina snorts, pinching Julian's cheek. "I just wanted him to come back. See? I was right." She lets go of Julian, and he pats his skin to calm the sting, chortling.

Randy wipes Mark's mouth with a napkin and then asks, "Well, who liked whom first?"

Julian reddens, scowling. "Why are you curious about this?!"

"Me," Joaquin responds, looking directly at Julian. "Julian figured me out and made the first move, but it was me. I liked him first."