JAY'S POV — WHEN THE WORLD COMES BACK WRONG
I woke up convinced I was still dreaming.
Not because it felt hazy.
Because it felt too gentle.
Sunlight poured in through something sheer — curtains, maybe — turning the room gold instead of white. The air smelled clean. Familiar in a way I couldn't place. Not disinfectant. Not perfume.
Home-adjacent.
My head ached dully, like I'd slept with my thoughts clenched too tight. My eyelids felt heavy, but not stuck. When I opened them, the world didn't spin.
That alone was suspicious.
I stared at the ceiling.
Not my ceiling.
Different fan. Different cracks. Different light.
Okay.
So either I was kidnapped.
Or I survived something.
I shifted slightly — testing my body the way you do after a bad fall.
Everything responded.
Good.
Then I realized I was warm.
Not blanket-warm.
Person-warm.
There was an arm around my waist.
A solid one.
I froze so hard my muscles locked.
My breathing slowed automatically — instinct, not fear. Whatever happened, panic wouldn't help.
I looked down.
Oversized hoodie.
Black.
Soft.
Swallowing my hands and halfway down my thighs like it didn't belong to me.
I knew that hoodie.
My stomach dropped.
Slowly — very slowly — I turned my head.
Keifer.
Asleep.
Right there.
On his side.
Facing me.
Close enough that I could count his lashes. Close enough that his breath brushed my cheek every time he exhaled.
My brain blue-screened.
This wasn't panic.
This was error processing reality.
The last thing I remembered was Kiko's smile being wrong. The drink tasting off. My legs feeling heavy.
I remembered thinking this isn't right.
Then nothing.
And now—
Keifer.
Sunlight.
Unarmed.
Unguarded.
His arm wasn't tight. It wasn't possessive. Just… there. Like he'd fallen asleep that way by accident and never corrected it.
Which somehow made it worse.
I swallowed.
Okay, Jay Jay relax let's see what can be done, I told myself. Assess.
I was clothed.
Overdressed, if anything.
The hoodie was zipped to my chin.
No injuries I could feel.
No panic response in my body.
Safe.
That word settled strangely in my chest.
I studied his face.
I'd seen Keifer angry. Focused. Calculating. Cold.
I had never seen him like this.
His brow was smooth. His mouth relaxed. One hand was curled loosely near my sleeve, fingers barely touching fabric.
He looked… good.
Human.
Unfairly handsome in a way that felt illegal to notice.
This had to be a dream.
There was no other explanation.
Dreams were cruel like this — giving you comfort shaped like people you trusted just enough to make waking hurt.
I lifted my hand.
Hesitated.
Then, with a ridiculous amount of care, traced my finger along his jaw.
Warm.
Solid.
Real.
My breath caught.
His lashes fluttered.
I yanked my hand back like I'd been caught stealing.
Too late.
"Enjoying the view?"
His voice was low. Sleep-rough. Too close.
I screamed.
And shoved him.
---
KEIFER'S POV — DIGNITY: LOST
I woke up mid-fall.
There is no graceful way to be ejected from your own bed by a five-foot-something menace in an oversized hoodie.
I hit the floor on my shoulder with a very real, very undignified thump.
Air left my lungs.
Somewhere above me, Jay was scrambling backward on the bed like a startled cat.
"WHAT IS HAPPENING," she yelled.
I groaned.
"Good morning to you too."
She stared down at me like I was a crime scene.
"WHY ARE YOU HERE."
I sat up slowly, rubbing my shoulder.
"…Because this is my room?"
Her eyes flicked around.
The bed.The dresser.The window.
The hoodie — my hoodie — hanging off her like it had always belonged there.
Her face drained of color.
"Oh my god " she said faintly.
Then louder: "OH.MY.GOD!!!!"
I stood, hands raised immediately. Not because she was dangerous — but because she looked like she might throw something.
"You're safe," I said calmly. "Nothing happened."
Her eyes snapped back to mine.
"Nothing," she repeated flatly. "Because my last memory is being drugged."
That landed heavy.
"I know," I said.
Her jaw tightened. Shoulders squared.
"Then explain," she said. "Slowly. And carefully."
I nodded.
"We found you,at the party in one of the room." I began. "You were taken upstairs. You were unconscious. I brought you here."
She stared at me.
"…That's it?"
"That's it."
Silence stretched.
Then she glanced down at the hoodie.
"…Why am I dressed like you?"
I exhaled.
"You were cold," I said. "And your clothes were… not ideal for sleeping."
Her mouth opened.
Closed.
"…You didn't—"
"No."
"…You swear?"
"On my life."
She searched my face.
Then — to my surprise — laughed.
Not loud. Not hysterical.
Just a quiet, incredulous laugh that shook something loose in the room.
"Oh my god," she said, covering her face. "I pushed you off the bed."
"Yes," I said. "Real Hard."
She peeked at me through her fingers.
"Are you okay?"
"I'll survive."
She dropped her hands, studying me again.
"…Why were you holding me?"
I hesitated.
"Because you kept waking up," I said honestly. "And every time you did, you panicked until you felt someone there."
Her expression softened — just a fraction.
"Oh."
She looked down at the bed.
Then at me.
"…Did I say anything weird?"
"You asked if walls could hear," I said. "And then apologized to a lamp."
She groaned.
"I hate everything."
JAY'S POV — PIECES CLICKING BACK
I swung my legs over the side of the bed carefully.
No dizziness.
Good.
The hoodie was ridiculous — sleeves too long, hood heavy against my neck. It smelled like him. Clean. Familiar.
That did something strange to my chest.
I looked at him.
Really looked.
"You stayed," I said quietly.
He nodded once.
"As long as it took."
I swallowed.
"…Thank you."
He accepted it like it was nothing. Like it wasn't a big deal to guard someone all night.
Which somehow made it a very big deal.
I stood.
Immediately tripped over the hem of the hoodie.
He reached out instinctively.
Didn't touch me.
Just hovered — ready.
"I'm okay," I said, laughing.
"You say that a lot," he replied.
I smirked.
"Someone has to."
I glanced at the door.
Keifer followed my gaze immediately.
"Freshen up," he said, already moving. "Bathroom's attached. Towels are inside. And—" he paused, opened his wardrobe, and tossed something toward me without looking.
I caught it.
Another hoodie.
Gray this time. Softer. Somehow bigger.
"You have… a concerning number of these," I said.
He shrugged. "Whatever."
I raised a brow. "I'm stealing this one too."
He didn't even pretend to object. Just nodded once and turned toward the door.
"I'll be downstairs."
Then he left.
Just like that.
No hovering. No awkwardness. No lingering tension.
Which was somehow more intimate than all of it.
I locked the door out of habit.
Leaned back against it.
Then exhaled.
Hard.
The mirror reflected someone who looked… fine. Tired. Slightly pale. But fine. No mascara smudges. No injuries. No evidence of chaos except the faint heaviness behind my eyes.
I splashed water on my face.
Cold.
Grounding.
Okay.
You're alive.
You're safe.
You're in Keifer's house wearing his clothes.
One of these facts required more processing than the others.
I changed into the gray hoodie, rolling the sleeves twice. It still drowned me. When I stepped out, my phone buzzed from the bedside table.
A single message.
Angelo:
Where are you.
I stared at it.
Typed back:
Alive. Safe. Will explain.
Then, because honesty was apparently today's theme, added:
Also in Keifer's house.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
I turned the phone face down before he could call.
Some problems were future-me's responsibility.
I stepped out of the room and stopped short.
Oh.
This wasn't a house.
This was a statement.
Open-plan. High ceilings. Floor-to-ceiling glass letting sunlight pour in like it was invited. Neutral tones, sharp lines, warm wood cutting through the modern steel-and-marble aesthetic.
Minimal. Expensive. Intentional.
Every piece of furniture looked like it had been chosen, not acquired.
No clutter. No chaos.
Very Keifer.
I walked slowly, socks quiet against polished floors, half expecting an echo. The place felt lived in — not cold — but controlled. Like nothing happened here unless someone allowed it.
The smell of food hit me before I saw it.
And then—
Breakfast.
Not breakfast.
A spread.
Pancakes. Eggs. Fruit. Toast. Something that looked suspiciously like handmade waffles. Coffee. Juice. Pastries.
I froze.
"…Are you feeding an army," I muttered.
"Only when necessary," Keifer said from the head of the table.
He was already seated.
Black tee. Sleeves pushed up. Coffee in hand.
He looked infuriatingly put together for someone who'd been awake all night.
Then I noticed the others.
Two boys.
Both unmistakably related to him.
Same sharp bone structure. Same dark hair. Different energy entirely.
The one on Keifer's right stood immediately when he saw me.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Warm eyes.
"Jay, right?" he said, pulling out a chair smoothly. "I'm Keigan."
He smiled — easy, genuine — and gestured for me to sit.
"Please."
I blinked.
"…Thank you."
As I sat, I felt eyes on me.
Strong ones.
I turned.
The youngest.
Keiren.
Probably mid-teens. Dark curls. Sharp eyes that missed nothing. He wasn't staring rudely — just openly. Like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
He didn't look away when I caught him.
Instead, he leaned forward.
"So," he said, chin in his hand. "You're the girl who made Kuya Keifer sleepless."
Silence.
Dead.
Keigan choked on his coffee.
Keifer didn't move.
I very carefully set my hands on the table.
"…I'm sorry?"
Keiren tilted his head. "He doesn't sleep when he's worried."
Keigan smacked the back of his head.
"Keiren."
"What?" he protested. "I'm stating facts."
I glanced at Keifer.
He looked… resigned.
"Eat," he said. "Before he says more."
Too late.
I bit back a laugh.
"Is he always like this?"
"Yes," Keigan and Keifer said simultaneously.
Keiren grinned.
I smiled too.
For the first time since the night before, the heaviness eased.
And somewhere between the sunlight, the ridiculous amount of food, and the way Keifer's presence grounded the room without dominating it—
I felt something settle.
Not answers.
Not closure.
But something close enough to breathe again.
And for now?
That was enough
Keiren was still staring at me.
Not rudely anymore.
Curiously.
Like he'd shifted from threat assessment to genuine interest and didn't know how to downshift.
"So," he said again, quieter this time. "What's your full name?"
Keigan shot him a look. "Keiren—"
"It's fine," I said, cutting in before it turned awkward.
I took a sip of juice, then answered.
"Jasper Jean Mariano."
Keiren blinked.
"Mariano, Interesting..."
I smiled faintly. "I've been told."
He nodded, accepting that like it explained everything.
Then he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "And what are you to my kuya?"
The table went still.
Keigan paused mid-bite.
Keifer didn't look up from his coffee, but I saw the tension — subtle, controlled — in the way his jaw set.
Ah.
That kind of question.
I answered honestly.
"I'm his… classmate," I said. "And someone he helped when I needed it."
Keiren considered that.
"classmate," he repeated. "Okay."
Not accusing. Not teasing.
Just… cataloguing.
Then he tilted his head again. "Where's your family?"
I didn't hesitate.
"I live with my cousins," I said. "My parents aren't around anymore."
The words landed heavier than I expected.
Not dramatic.
Just factual.
Keiren's expression changed instantly.
The sharp curiosity softened into something quieter. Familiar.
"Oh," he said.
Just that.
Keigan glanced at Keifer.
Keifer finally looked up.
Keiren didn't say anything for a moment. Then he muttered, "Same."
I looked at him.
"My mom died," he added, voice casual in that way kids use when they've said it too many times for it to hurt out loud anymore. "Dad left after."
Silence.
Not uncomfortable.
Respectful.
Keifer reached out and flicked Keiren lightly on the forehead.
"Eat," he said. "You talk too much when you're hungry."
Keiren swatted his hand away, but he was smiling now.
"You raised me," he said simply, like it was a fact of weather. "You're basically my mom and dad."
Keigan laughed. "Please don't call him mom."
"I will absolutely call him mom," Keiren shot back.
Keifer closed his eyes briefly. "I regret everything."
I laughed.
I couldn't help it.
The sound surprised me — light, real — like it had slipped out before I could stop it.
Keiren grinned at me, victorious. "See? She laughs. You like her, Kuya."
Keifer stood abruptly. "Lets go Jay I'll drop you now."
I wiped my eyes. "I'm okay, actually. I already texted my kuya."
That was… mostly true.
Just not that kuya.
Keifer studied my face.
Didn't press.
"Alright," he said. "Text me when you get home."
I nodded.
Keigan stood too. "Nice meeting you, Jay."
Keiren waved. "Come back. You make him less grumpy."
"I am not grumpy," Keifer said.
"You're a storm cloud with shoes."
I headed for the door, still smiling.
---
OUTSIDE — TRUTHS WITH WHEELS
The morning air felt cooler than it had inside.
Grounding.
I walked two blocks before I saw it.
David's car.
Parked casually like he hadn't been up all night orchestrating controlled chaos.
I slid into the passenger seat.
"You look alive," he said. "That's a win."
"Barely," I replied. "Drive."
He pulled out smoothly.
We drove in silence for about a minute.
Then—
"Talk," I said.
David exhaled.
"Alright."
He told me everything.
About Calix's message.
About Section E arriving.
About Felix.
About Kiko.
Not details.
Just truths.
Enough.
I stared out the window as the city moved by.
My hands were steady.
My chest wasn't.
"…Keifer stayed?" I asked quietly.
"All night," David said. "Didn't leave your side except once."
I nodded.
That tracked.
I leaned my head back against the seat.
"Next time," I said calmly, "I trust my instincts."
David glanced at me.
"Next time," he corrected gently, "you won't be alone."
I closed my eyes.
For the first time since the party—
I believed that...barely...