The first time Gigi met Carlo Biliran, he was crying over a spilled ice cream. She was six. He was seven. She walked up to him, handed over half of her cone, and said, "Stop crying. People are staring."
He sniffed, took the cone, and said, "You're nice. What's your name?"
"Gigi. But don't get any ideas."
From that day on, they were inseparable.
Caloy was the quiet to her thunder. The reason to her rage. He was the only boy who never tried to impress her, never tried to flirt, and never once looked at her like she was a challenge to conquer.
He was the only one she trusted.
When she passed her college entrance exam, he was the first to know. When her mother left the country and never came back, he stayed beside her while she cried into a pillow for hours. When her first boss made an inappropriate comment during her internship, it was Caloy who showed up at the office and told the man to back off - with a stare that spoke louder than fists.
"You're my person," he once said. "I don't need a label."
But everyone assumed they were together. They weren't. Not in the way people thought. Gigi drew the line and Caloy respected it.
Still, there were moments.
Like when they sat too close on the rooftop during fireworks and her shoulder brushed his. Or when he walked her home after midnight and refused to let go of her hand when she was shaking after a panic attack.
There were glances, too. Fleeting. Loaded.
And Gigi, for all her rules and walls, sometimes wondered.
Not enough to fall. Just enough to ache.
Now, as she sat in the cafe waiting for him, she stared at the cup in front of her. The lid had a little heart doodled by the barista. She rolled her eyes and crossed it out with her pen.
"Wow," said Caloy, sliding into the seat across from her. "Even paper hearts aren't safe with you."
She grinned. "Love is a scam, Caloy. I'm just saving paper."
He laughed. "Well, I got hired by a startup today. I'm officially underpaid and overqualified."
"Welcome to adulthood."
He raised his coffee in mock celebration. She clinked hers against it.
Somewhere deep inside her chest, something stirred. Familiar. Unwelcome.
She took a long sip and forced it down.
She had no room for hope. Especially not for boys with soft eyes and loyal hearts.
Not even Caloy.
He sniffed, took the cone, and said, "You're nice. What's your name?"
"Gigi. But don't get any ideas."
From that day on, they were inseparable.
Caloy was the quiet to her thunder. The reason to her rage. He was the only boy who never tried to impress her, never tried to flirt, and never once looked at her like she was a challenge to conquer.
He was the only one she trusted.
When she passed her college entrance exam, he was the first to know. When her mother left the country and never came back, he stayed beside her while she cried into a pillow for hours. When her first boss made an inappropriate comment during her internship, it was Caloy who showed up at the office and told the man to back off - with a stare that spoke louder than fists.
"You're my person," he once said. "I don't need a label."
But everyone assumed they were together. They weren't. Not in the way people thought. Gigi drew the line and Caloy respected it.
Still, there were moments.
Like when they sat too close on the rooftop during fireworks and her shoulder brushed his. Or when he walked her home after midnight and refused to let go of her hand when she was shaking after a panic attack.
There were glances, too. Fleeting. Loaded.
And Gigi, for all her rules and walls, sometimes wondered.
Not enough to fall. Just enough to ache.
Now, as she sat in the cafe waiting for him, she stared at the cup in front of her. The lid had a little heart doodled by the barista. She rolled her eyes and crossed it out with her pen.
"Wow," said Caloy, sliding into the seat across from her. "Even paper hearts aren't safe with you."
She grinned. "Love is a scam, Caloy. I'm just saving paper."
He laughed. "Well, I got hired by a startup today. I'm officially underpaid and overqualified."
"Welcome to adulthood."
He raised his coffee in mock celebration. She clinked hers against it.
Somewhere deep inside her chest, something stirred. Familiar. Unwelcome.
She took a long sip and forced it down.
She had no room for hope. Especially not for boys with soft eyes and loyal hearts.
Not even Caloy.
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