Ruz's POV
In Liam's room, the Chaos Gang was bored.
This was a dangerous state for us to be in. Boredom, for normal people, meant scrolling through phones or taking naps or finding productive hobbies. For us, boredom meant trouble. It meant chaos waiting to happen. It meant someone was about to do something stupid, and everyone else was about to enable them.
Josh was lying on the floor, spread out like a starfish who had given up on life. His eyes were closed, his mouth was slightly open, and he looked like he was contemplating the meaning of existence.
Nika was throwing chips at his face.
One chip. Two chips. Three chips. Each one landed somewhere different,forehead, nose, cheek. Josh didn't flinch. He had either reached a state of enlightenment or simply stopped caring about his personal dignity. With Josh, it was hard to tell.
Marco was trying to balance a spoon on his nose. His eyes were crossed. His face was scrunched in concentration. The spoon wobbled dangerously, threatening to fall.
Diego was sitting across from him, watching intensely.
"Fifty pesos says it falls in the next ten seconds," Diego said.
"You're on," Marco replied, not moving.
The spoon fell.
"HA," Diego said.
"That was nine seconds," Marco argued.
"It was eight."
"It was seven."
"Pay up."
"No."
"Then no more bets."
"You never pay anyway."
"That's not the point."
Aira was sitting on the couch, her legs curled under her, her phone in her hand. But she wasn't scrolling. She was watching everyone, a small smile on her face. The kind of smile that said she was happy just to be here, just to exist in the same space as this chaos.
Mira was beside her, also on her phone, but her eyes kept moving, watching, observing, cataloging. She missed nothing.
Eren sat in the corner, reading a book. Actually reading. In the middle of chaos. Like a psychopath.
Rifat was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching everyone with the expression of someone who had seen too much and was no longer surprised by anything.
Zayn stood by the window, looking out at the dark street. Guard mode on. Even when he was relaxing, he was protecting.
"We should play a game," Aira said suddenly.
Everyone looked up.
"A game?" Nika asked, pausing mid chip throw.
"Yes. A game. Something fun. Something that doesn't involve violence or food theft."
"That's a very narrow category," Josh said from the floor.
"Truth or dare," Nika suggested, her eyes lighting up.
"No dares," Mira said immediately, not looking up from her phone. "Last time we played truth or dare, Josh ended up in the pool with his clothes on."
"That was a dare," Josh said defensively.
"That was a mistake."
"That was art."
"That was hypothermia."
"What about truth or truth?" Eren said.
Everyone looked at him.
He didn't look up from his book. His voice was flat. Monotone. The way it always was.
"Only the truth. No dares. Just embarrassing stories. No one gets wet. No one gets arrested. No one ends up in the hospital."
"That's worse," Liam said, pulling his blanket tighter around himself.
"That's better," I said.
We sat in a circle.
The floor was covered in pillows and blankets. Mira had dimmed the lights. The room felt softer now. Warmer. Like a cocoon.
"Who starts?" Aira asked.
"I'll start," Josh said.
He sat up from the floor, crossing his legs. His face was serious. Dramatic. The face he used when he was about to tell a story that was either completely true or completely made up with Josh, you could never tell which.
"One time," he said, "in seventh grade, I was presenting a report in front of the class."
"Uh oh," Nika said.
"I was nervous. Really, very nervous. Like, sweating through my shirt nervously."
"Dramatic," Marco said.
"Accurate."
"So I started talking. And presenting. And then…." He paused for effect. "I threw up."
"ON THE TEACHER?" Nika shouted.
"ON THE TEACHER."
Everyone burst out laughing.
Josh nodded solemnly, like a soldier recounting a battle.
"Right there. Front row. First desk. She was wearing a white blouse."
"NO."
"YES."
"What did she do?" Aira asked, her eyes wide.
"She stared at me for ten seconds. The longest ten seconds of my life. The class was silent. My soul was leaving my body."
"Then she said, 'Mr. Aquino, that was not in the lesson plan.'"
"Did you fail?" Liam asked.
"She gave me extra credit for creativity."
"That's not creativity. That's trauma."
Josh leaned back. "Your turn, Nika."
Nika raised her hand like she was in class.
"One time, I tried to impress a boy by doing a backflip off a swing."
"A swing?" Marco asked. "Like a playground swing?"
"Like a playground swing."
"Those swings are not designed for backflips."
"I was not designed for logic."
"Fair."
"Did you land it?" Aira asked.
"I landed in the hospital."
"What was broken?"
"My pride. And my wrist." She held up her left wrist, as if demonstrating. "Both at the same time. The pride broke first, then the wrist."
"Did the boy visit you in the hospital?"
"He sent a text."
"What did it say?"
"'Hope you feel better.' With a period at the end. A period, Nika. Not even an exclamation point."
"Cold," Josh said.
"Icy," Marco agreed.
"Refrigerated," Eren added.
Everyone looked at him.
"That's not a word people use," Liam said.
"It is now."
Marco cleared his throat dramatically.
"One time, in middle school, I was in class. The teacher asked a question. I raised my hand. She called on me."
"And?"
"I called her 'Mom.'"
The room exploded.
"IN FRONT OF EVERYONE?" Nika shouted.
"IN FRONT OF EVERYONE."
"What did she say?"
"She said, 'I'm not your mother, Mr. Bautista. But I am disappointed in you.'"
"That's worse than throwing up on a teacher," Josh said.
"That's worse than breaking your wrist," Nika agreed.
"That's emotional damage," Liam said.
Marco nodded. "I transferred schools."
"Because of that?"
"Because of the trauma."
Diego waved his hand lazily.
"One time, I walked into a glass door."
"That's not embarrassing," Josh said. "That happens to everyone."
"I blamed the door."
"You blamed the door?"
"I said, 'This door shouldn't be so clean. It's a safety hazard.'"
"What did the door say?"
"Nothing. It's a door."
"Then why are you telling this story?"
"Because I'm still angry at the door."
Everyone stared at him.
"That's not embarrassing," Nika said. "That's unhinged."
Eren closed his book.
This was significant. Eren never closed his book voluntarily.
"One time," he said in his usual monotone, "I got lost at a mall. I was eight."
"Okay," Josh said.
"I ended up in a storage closet."
"A storage closet?"
"For three hours."
"How do you get lost in a storage closet?"
"I walked in. The door closed behind me. I couldn't open it."
"Couldn't or didn't try?"
"The handle was broken."
"Did you scream for help?"
"I meditated."
"You meditated?"
"I was eight. I didn't know it was meditation. I just sat there and thought about snacks."
"That's not embarrassing," Josh said. "That's concerning."
"I was eight."
"Eight. Year. Olds don't get lost in storage closets."
"This one did."
"Did your parents find you?"
"An employee found me. Three hours later. I was still thinking about snacks."
"What did your parents say?"
"My mother said, 'That's my son.' My father said, 'That's also my son.'"
"That's not helpful."
"That's accurate."
Mira set down her phone.
She didn't clear her throat. She didn't lean forward dramatically. She just spoke, the way she did everything calm, controlled, slightly terrifying.
"One time, I hacked into the school's grading system."
"You WHAT?" Aira asked.
"I hacked into the school's grading system."
"Why?"
"I wanted to change my grade from an A to an A+."
"An A wasn't good enough?"
"An A is acceptable. An A+ is exceptional."
"Did you succeed?"
"I changed it. Then I changed it back. Then I changed it again. Then I left a note in the system that said 'Your security is bad, please fix it.'"
"What did the teacher do?"
"She gave me extra credit for 'initiative.'"
"That's not initiative. That's a crime."
"That's initiative with technical skills."
"Same thing."
"Different thing."
Aira tucked her hair behind her ear, looking slightly embarrassed before she even started.
"One time, in our school play," she said, "I was on stage. It was the big finale. Everyone was watching."
"Go on," Nika said.
"I tripped."
"Okay."
"On my own feet."
"Okay."
"And I took the curtain down with me."
"THE WHOLE CURTAIN?"
"THE WHOLE CURTAIN."
"How?"
"I grabbed it on the way down. Instinct. Self preservation. Bad decision making."
"What did the audience do?"
"The audience laughed."
"That's cruel."
"Then they cheered. They thought it was part of the show."
"It wasn't?"
"It was not."
"Did you ever do another play?"
"I did not."
"Good choice."
"Survival choice."
Rifat uncrossed his arms. This was as close to enthusiasm as he ever got.
"One time," he said, "I tried to cook for my family."
Everyone leaned in.
"I was fifteen. I watched a cooking show. I thought I knew what I was doing."
"You did not know what you were doing."
"I did not know what I was doing."
"What did you make?"
"I tried to make pasta."
"What happened?"
"I set off the fire alarm."
"The fire alarm?"
"The fire alarm. And the smoke alarm. And the neighbor's dog."
"The neighbor's dog?"
"The smoke went through the window. The dog started barking. The neighbor came outside. Then the fire department came."
"The fire department?"
"The fire department. And the neighbors. And my grandmother."
"What did your grandmother do?"
"She laughed for twenty minutes."
"Did you ever cook again?"
"No."
"Smart."
"Survival."
Zayn turned from the window. He didn't sit down and Zayn rarely sat but he leaned against the windows, his arms still crossed, his expression still neutral.
"One time," he said, "I got lost in my own neighborhood."
"Your own neighborhood?" Josh asked.
"My own neighborhood."
"For how long?"
"Two hours."
"How do you get lost in your own neighborhood?"
"I was reading while walking."
"You were reading while walking?"
"It was a good book."
"What book?"
"Doesn't matter."
"Was it worth getting lost for?"
"The book was excellent. Getting lost was incidental."
"Who found you?"
"A kind old lady. She walked me home."
"Did your parents panic?"
"My mother was amused. My father was confused. My sister still brings it up."
"Good sister."
"The best."
Liam wrapped his blanket tighter around himself.
"One time," he said, "I accidentally texted my mom instead of my friend."
"Okay."
"I called her 'bro.'"
"BRO?"
"BRO."
"What did she say?"
"She said, 'I'm not your bro, I'm your mother. Also, clean your room.'"
"Did you clean your room?"
"I did not."
"Rebel."
"Idiot."
Adrian's jaw was tight. His arms were crossed. He looked like he would rather be anywhere else.
"You don't have to share," I said.
"I know."
"You look like you're in pain."
"I'm in memories."
"Same thing."
He took a breath.
"One time, in elementary school, I tried to impress a girl."
"A girl?" Nika asked, delighted.
"A girl."
"What did you do?"
"I climbed a tree."
"A tree?"
"A very tall tree."
"How tall?"
"Too tall."
"Did you impress her?"
"I got stuck."
"For how long?"
"Two hours. In the tree. The branch broke. I couldn't get down."
"Who rescued you?"
"The firefighters."
"Did the girl ever talk to you again?"
"She transferred schools."
"Because of you?"
"Because of the tree."
"The tree?"
"The tree was traumatic for everyone involved."
Everyone stared at him.
"That's not embarrassing," Josh said. "That's a tragedy."
"That's a love story," Marco said.
"That's a disaster," Nika said.
Everyone looked at me.
"Your turn," Nika said, tossing another chip at Josh's face. He caught it in his mouth this time. No one clapped. No one was impressed.
"I don't have embarrassing stories," I said.
"Everyone has embarrassing stories," Mira replied, not looking up from her phone.
"I suppress mine."
"That's unhealthy."
"That's survival."
Josh sat up from the floor, suddenly interested. "What about first love?"
Everyone went quiet.
"First love," Marco repeated, leaning forward. "Yes. Tell us about your first love."
"I don't have any first love."
"Everyone has a first love."
"I was busy."
"Being chaotic?"
"Surviving."
Liam looked at me. His expression was softer now. Less teasing. More… careful.
"You can tell us. Or not. It's fine."
I looked at the group.
Their faces. Their eyes. Their quiet patience.
No judgment. No pressure.
Just friends.
Waiting.
I took a breath.
Then—
"Alexander Reyes," I said. "Short for Alex."
The room leaned in.
But before I could continue, someone else spoke.
"It's my fault, actually."
Everyone turned.
Zayn.
He was still leaning against the window, arms crossed, but his expression had shifted. Softer. More distant. Like he was looking at something none of us could see.
"Zayn?" Aira asked.
"You two know each other?" Adrian's voice was sharp. Accusing. "How? Why didn't you tell us?"
Zayn didn't look at him. His eyes were on me.
"We went to the same school, San Isidro High School," he said. "Before Monterrazas. Before everything."
"You never mentioned that," Josh said.
"You never asked."
"That's not how friendship works."
"That's exactly how my friendship works."
Rifat uncrossed his arms. "How long?"
"Three years," I said. "We weren't close. Not then. We existed in the same space. Same classes. Same hallways."
"Then how did Alex happen?" Nika asked.
Zayn answered.
"Because of me."
Zayn pushed off from the wall. Walked to the circle. Sat down.
Zayn never sat.
This was significant.
"Two years ago," he said, "I was trying to confess to a girl. Aya Takehashi." A small smile appeared on his lips. "She was in the class next to mine. Beautiful. Smart. The kind of person who made you want to be better."
"Did you succeed in confessing to her?" Josh asked.
"I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"Of rejection. Of embarrassment. Of losing the possibility before I even tried."
"So I waited for two weeks."
"You waited two weeks to confess?"
"I waited two weeks to work up the courage. Every day, I walked to her classroom. Every day, I stopped outside the door. Every day, I turned around and walked back," he said with a little laugh.
"That's painful," Marco said.
"That's pathetic," Rifat corrected.
"One day, I was standing outside her classroom door. Again. Hesitating. Again. I had a letter. I had written everything down. All the words I couldn't say out loud."
"And then…"
"And then a middler appeared."
"A middler?"
Zayn looked at me.
"She walked over. Took the letter from my hands and walked into the classroom. Found Aya. Handed it to her."
"SHE DID THAT?" Nika shouted.
"I lost patience," I said while looking at him. "Two weeks of watching you stand in the same spot, turn around, walk away. Two weeks of watching you torture yourself. Someone had to do something."
"Wait… you?" everyone said in unison, staring at me.
"Who else?" Zayn replied, glaring at me.
"What did Aya say?" Aira asked.
Zayn's expression softened, and a smile spread across his face. A faint blush crept onto his cheeks.
"She said yes."
The room erupted all at once. Voices overlapped one after another.
"WAIT…"
"She said yes?"
"To the letter?"
"To the confession?"
"To all of it?"
Zayn nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "She said she'd been waiting for two weeks. She noticed me staring at her all the time. She thought I'd never work up the courage."
"And then?" Josh asked eagerly.
"And then we dated for eight months."
"What happened?"
"Life happened," Zayn said quietly. "She moved away. But we're in a long distance relationship now."
"That's not a tragedy," Diego said.
"That's not a love story," Marco said.
"That's a relationship with good communication," Mira said.
Adrian was still staring at us. His eyes were narrowed. His jaw was tight.
"You knew each other," he said slowly. "For years. And you never told me."
"You never asked," Zayn said.
"Don't use that line again."
"It's still true."
"I'm going to kill you both."
"Get in line."
"But that's not the story," Zayn said, his voice turning serious. "The real story is what happened after.
He looked at me.
"Alex was there that day."
"In the hallway. Watching from behind the corner. He was Zayn's friend," I said. "He had come to support him. To cheer him on. To make sure he didn't back out again."
"But I ruined it."
"I walked in. Handed the letter. Walked out. Didn't give Zayn a chance to do it himself. Didn't give Alex a chance to help."
"So he confronted me."
"He was furious," I said.
The room was silent.
"He came to me after class. Blocked my way in the hallway. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. Eyes burning."
"What did he say?" Liam asked.
"He said, 'Who do you think you are? That was his moment. His confession. His letter. You had no right to step in.'"
"I said, 'Someone had to do something. He was going to stand there forever. He was going to lose her. I saved him.'"
"He said, 'You didn't save him. You robbed him.'"
"We argued. In the middle of the hallway. In front of everyone."
"Didn't anyone stop you?"
"No. Everyone was too busy watching. And we argued like that for twenty minutes."
"Twenty minutes?"
"We had a lot to say to each other."
"We didn't become friends overnight," I continued. "It was gradual. Annoying. Inevitable."
"He kept showing up," Zayn added. "Every time I was with Ruz, Alex appeared. Every time Ruz was alone, he found her."
"Not because he wanted to. Because he couldn't help it."
"I saw someone who cared too much. Who felt too deeply. Who pretended not to care because caring hurt too much."
"He started breaking my walls," I said. "Not aggressively. Not intentionally. Just… by being there."
"One day, I laughed. Really laughed. Not the controlled laugh. Not the polite laugh. The kind that comes from somewhere deep, that you can't stop even if you want to."
"What was so funny?"
"I don't remember. It wasn't important. What was important was that he noticed."
"He said, 'There you are.'"
"I said, 'I've always been here.'"
"He said, 'No. You've been hiding.'"
"I started changing," I said. "Talking like normal people. Behaving like normal people. Laughing without holding back. Like now, how I am."
"That's good," Mira said.
"It was terrifying."
"Why?"
"Because I had spent years building walls. Protecting myself. And he made me want to tear them down."
"Maybe I was starting to fall for him."
"Maybe he also?"
"But somehow, I started to be affected by him."
"Then, one day," I said, "he was gone."
"Gone?"
"Without a word. Without a goodbye. Without an explanation."
"Did you try to find him?"
"We tried. Zayn and I. Together."
Zayn nodded. "We went to his house. Knocked on the door. No answer."
"The neighbors said there was no Alexander living there. No Reyes family. Never had been."
"That's not possible," Josh said.
"That's what we thought."
"We went to school. Checked records. His name wasn't there."
"What do you mean, not there?"
"I mean, it was like he never existed. No enrollment records. No grades. No files."
"Someone erased him," Mira said quietly.
"Someone erased him."
"Who?"
"We don't know."
"Why?"
"We don't know that either."
"His friends," Eren said. "The ones he had at school, neighbors, or somewhere. What did they say?"
Zayn's jaw tightened.
"They also knew him with us. We were all clueless."
"His teachers?"
"They pretended not to remember him. Even his favorite teacher."
"His desk? His chair? His things?"
"Gone. Replaced. Like he had never sat there."
The room was cold now.
Not cold.
Fear-cold.
"We started to feel like we were going crazy," I said. "Like those months we spent with him, the arguments, the laughter, the late nights, were all a dream."
"A nightmare," Zayn corrected.
"A good kind of nightmare."
"There's no such thing."
"There is when you lose someone you love."
"But he left things," I said. "Small things. Proof that he existed."
"Like what?"
"A jacket. That smelled like him. That I couldn't wash because then he would be gone completely."
"A voice message. One. Saying, 'I'll call you tomorrow.'"
"He never called?"
"He never called."
I was quiet for a moment.
"He made me feel safe," I said. "For the first time in years, I felt safe."
"He made us feel like we belonged somewhere," Zayn added. "Like we weren't just surviving. Like we were actually living."
"He made us laugh." I said. "Really laugh. The kind that hurts your stomach and makes you forget why you were sad."
"And then he left."
A pause settled over the room.
"There was one thing," Zayn continued, his voice quieter now. "One thing that was different about Alex."
"What?"
"His hair."
Everyone looked at him.
"No one touched his hair. Not his friends. Not his favorite teacher. Not anyone."
"We never knew why. He never explained. He just said, 'Don't touch the hair.'"
"That's weird," Josh said.
"That's Alex."
"Except…" Zayn looked at me.
"Except one person."
I nodded.
"Me."
"You touched his hair?"
""Once," I said. "We were arguing. I reached out to push him, and by accident, I grabbed his hair. I pulled my hand back immediately."
"He never let anyone touch his hair."
"But he stepped forward," I continued quietly, "and made me touch his hair."
I went quiet.
"Maybe he trusted me," I said finally. "Maybe I was the only person he didn't have to pretend to be with."
The room was silent.