Work Text:
It was a humid Monday and election week had officially rolled in — a.k.a. the season of candy bribes, recycled campaign jingles, and half-baked promises delivered with a smile.
Inside STEM 12-A, Mikhaela Lim was dramatically slouched on her chair, spinning a ballpen between her fingers like she was in a movie. Her barkada, Gwen, Colet, and Stacey, were gathered around her desk, eating the cheese pimiento sandwich Gwen forgot to eat at recess.
Then Mikha suddenly sat up like she had a eureka moment.
"Kapag talaga si Aiah ang pinakamarami ang boto sa lahat ng officers sa buong department… aamin ako sa kanya," she declared, grinning like a menace.
“HOY!” Colet choked on her sandwich.
“PUTA,” said Gwen, “totoo ka?!”
Stacey was already typing it in her Notes app. “Bet mo ‘yan ha. Witnesses kami.”
Mikha just laughed, flipping her hair dramatically. "Ang bet ko lang naman future ng Mahika, hindi future ko—char!"
They all screamed. She covered her face, but not before flashing her signature pogi smile. Mikhaela Lim was one of the campus heartthrobs — her poganda charm, eyeliner, and weird humor made her beloved in all strands.
But not a soul knew about her ultimate weakness: Aiah Arceta.
Aiah, who looked like a K-drama lead and moved like a Disney princess. Who always smiled gently. Who said “excuse me” even when someone stepped on her shoe. Who wore a pink ribbon every single day like she lived in a Pinterest board.
And now, she’s running for SCC President.
Under the party name: Mahika.
Tagline: “Gumagawa, Hindi Nagsasalita. Serbisyong puno ng Mahika.”
Color theme: Hot pastel pink.
Which brings us to The Room-to-Room Campaigns.
-
"STEM 12-A, please welcome Mahika Partylist!" the class president announced as a group of pretty people in pink entered their classroom like it was a catwalk.
And there she was.
Aiah Arceta.
Front and center.
She wore the Mahika shirt cut into a crop top under a pink plaid blazer, straight-leg jeans, and white sneakers with pink laces. Her hair was curled at the ends, tied with a ribbon. She smiled at the room, dimples flashing like danger.
"Hi everyone, I’m Aiah Arceta—"
‘Blah blah blah... proper name... place name... backstory stuff...’
Mikha was gone.
Like literally, tulala. Eyes glazed. Head tilted. In her head:
‘Aiah’s hair flowed like a Pantene commercial. The classroom lights turned soft pink. Someone played a harp.’
She was in the middle of imagining a wedding vow renewal in Paris when she got snapped back to reality.
Aiah was now right in front of her, handing her a party card, a lollipop, and a Mahika sticker with a smile.
"Are we that boring para matulala ka in the middle of our speech?" Aiah teased, chuckling.
Mikha turned red. Like, buntong-hiningang kamatis level.
"N-no! I just—uh—n-napaisip lang ako saglit—haha—"
“Just kidding,” Aiah laughed, dimples out in full force. “Thanks for listening.”
Then she gracefully moved to the next row.
Mikha stared at the candies in her hand like she was holding relics.
Gwen leaned in with a smirk.
“Tulala ka na nga nag blush ka pa? That’s your crush in 4K, girl.”
Colet giggled. Stacey coughed “bump ko sa GC ‘yung bet later.”
Mikha tried to act normal, but her knees were weak, and her soul had already astral projected.
-
From that day on, Mikha went rogue.
She started campaigning for Aiah like it was a silent mission from the heavens.
She slid Mahika cards to friends from HUMSS.
She gave candies to ABM kids saying, “Basta pink, iboto n’yo. ‘Di ko kayo turuan sa accounting, sige.”
She even learned basic sign language just to tell two SPED students in the hallway: "Vote Aiah. Pretty and smart."
She didn’t tell her barkada.
Okay… she told them. But she made them swear in blood (read: Coke) that they won’t say anything.
Election Day was coming. But before that — the biggest event of all:
THE MEETING DE AVANCE BITCH.
-
The auditorium was a war zone.
Balloons in pink, blue, and purple floated around. Students were holding tarpaulins, streamers, even lightsticks like it was a K-pop concert.
Mikha’s jaw dropped when she saw the Mahika team strutting in like a fashion show.
And Aiah?
Aiah was in fitted maong skirt, a cropped denim jacket with ‘A’ embroidered at the back, pink fur boots, a pearl pink tube top, and hair styled with glittery pins and ribbons. She looked like a Y2K goddess resurrected.
Mikha’s internal monologue:
“WHAT IN THE LIVING HELL IS THIS POPSTAR ENERGY. AM I BREATHING? AM I SWEATING? AM I… GAY?”
The candidates were introduced. The other parties got cheers.
But when their campaign manager called, “Hindi lang pang ganda, hindi lang pang-porma, kundi pang-serbisyo pa! Si Arceta na ang bida! Sa gawa, hindi lang salita. Sa puso, hindi lang plataporma. ‘Pag siya ang lider, hindi ka lang mapapahanga — mapapaniwala ka. Basta kay Aiah... ang serbisyo’y may puso at may MAHIKA! A-A ARCETA NA! LET’S GIVE IT UP FOR OUR NEXT SCC PRESIDENT… AIAH ARCETA!"
The whole place SCREAMED.
And Mikha?
She whipped out her phone faster than lightning and cheered like a fangirl at a Taylor Swift concert.
"GO AIAH!"
Her friends turned to her.
She shrugged innocently.
"Okay sorry I was possessed by the spirit of gay panic."
Then came the intermission numbers. Each party danced to remixed OPM bops.
When Mahika danced, Mikha wanted to video again but was too shy now because Gwen, Colet, and Stacey were already teasing her to death.
So she handed her phone to Gwen.
“Ikaw na lang, please. Fancam mo si Aiah para sakin.”
Gwen: “Sige. But I’m tagging you sa caption.”
Mikha: “STOP—”
-
After the intermission numbers, the crowd was still high on adrenaline, balloons still floating near the ceiling, streamers half-detached from the back wall. The emcees took center stage again with booming voices.
“Now, it’s time for the candidates to deliver their final campaign speeches!”
Students screamed again like it was Showtime.
Mikha’s palms were sweaty. Not because she was speaking. Not even because she was a class president and in the front row.
But because she was about to witness Aiah Arceta in peak serious-but-still-pretty mode. Aiah giving a speech? That was wife behavior.
Colet leaned in.
“Hoy. Huminga ka. You look like you’re about to cry and throw up at the same time.”
“Shut up. I’m FINE.”
Mikha wasn’t fine. Her knees were shaking like an old washing machine.
The first few candidates went up. The usual speeches — “I will serve you with all my heart,” “Serbiyo’y maasahan,” “This isn’t just about me, it’s about us” — you know the drill.
Then it was Aiah’s turn.
The emcee called her name like it was a coronation:
“AIAH ARCETA, running for SCC PRESIDENT under Mahika Partylist!”
The crowd erupted. Literal concert-level screaming. Someone even played her campaign jingle using a mini speaker.
Aiah took the mic like she was holding a flower, looking calm and graceful, her voice soft but clear.
“Hi everyone, I’m Aiah… and first of all, thank you.”
Her voice was warm. Light. Like kumot na malambot na mabango.
She continued talking about her plans — better facilities, improved hygiene, merchs, improved events, louder student voices.
But Mikha?
She was in another realm again.
The voice. The eye smile. The little hand movements. The way Aiah tucked her hair behind her ear like she was in a shampoo commercial.
Mikha’s thoughts were spiraling.
“GOD. I will vote for her. I will vote for her 20 times. I will campaign. I will print tarpaulins using my own allowance. I will—”
Then Aiah paused to smile at the crowd and caught eyes with Mikha — for half a second. But it was enough to make her malfunction.
“Did she—did she smile at me?! Was that—was that real?!”
“MIKHAELA,” Gwen whispered.
“Hmm?”
“Your mouth is literally open.”
After the speeches, the crowd clapped wildly, and the emcees gave their final reminders. The candidates began moving down the stage, and the moment their feet hit the floor, students swarmed them like celebrities.
And that’s when chaos began.
“OKAY. THIS IS IT. PIC TIME!” Colet clapped her hands, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“No,” Mikha said firmly, clutching her bag like it was a rosary. “I'm not ready. I’m literally shaking. My soul is in my throat.”
“Mikha. You promised.” Gwen pointed a finger at her.
“I said if she gets the highest vote. Not highest points in striking my heart during meeting de avance.”
“She’s literally walking this way, go!” Stacey shoved her.
Before Mikha could protest, she was already being dragged by her three best friends toward the group of Mahika candidates.
It was too late.
Aiah turned to them with a gentle smile.
“Hi,” she said, voice so soft it could melt a polar ice cap.
Mikha turned red. Like apple red. Like emergency-alert red.
Gwen grinned, not subtle at all.
“Is it okay to take a pic with Mikha raw, Pres?!”
Aiah chuckled, “Of course.”
Mikha froze.
“Y-you sure? I mean… are you sure you want me in the frame?”
She almost choked on her own voice.
Aiah looked confused and amused. “Why wouldn’t I?”
They stood side by side.
Mikha’s hands were trembling like a leaf in a typhoon.
Aiah gently took her hand and placed it on her own waist. “Chill, Mikha. It’s just me,”she whispered, laughing softly.
Mikha was about to combust.
‘Yun na nga e! IT’S YOU!’
Her heart was beating so fast it might’ve filed for resignation.
The flash went off. Picture done. But Mikha was still frozen in place. Her brain buffering like a slow Wi-Fi connection.
“Mikha, breathe,” Colet whispered from behind the camera.
Aiah just laughed and gave her a small thank-you nod before moving to take other photos.
As they walked away from the crowd, Mikha was tulala again. Her smile was so soft, she looked like a baby that had just been handed a lollipop.
“Guys…” she whispered. “She told me to chill.”
Gwen: “She held your hand.”
Colet: “She let you touch her waist.”
Stacey: “Are you still alive tho?”
Mikha: “Barely.”
-
Later that day, the classroom voting began.
As class president, Mikha was assigned to facilitate the entire thing — check names, monitor votes, count slips.
She was supposed to be neutral. She was supposed to act impartial.
But every time a student put a check beside "Maraiah Queen Arceta – SCC President", she bit her lip and smiled.
Gwen, acting as a poll watcher, was already side-eyeing her.
“You are so bad at hiding it. You suck, bro.”
“I’m not hiding it! I’m just… appreciating the democratic process!”
The final count in their classroom came in:
AIAH ARCETA – 33 votes
The next candidate? Only 11.
A landslide. A massacre. An annihilation.
Mikha squealed.
“WOOOH! LET’S GO!”
She literally took a backflip across the classroom. And then a SPLIT.
IN. FRONT. OF. EVERYONE.
“My Aiah is WINNINGGGGGGG!” she screamed, pointing both index fingers at the ceiling.
Everyone laughed, some cheered.
But then her friends froze. Gwen, Stacey, and Colet were staring toward the door with wide eyes.
“…Why are you all looking like that—”
Then she heard it.
A soft laugh. Behind her.
She turned slowly. Painfully.
Aiah. Was at the door.
And yes, she saw everything. The backflip. The split. The “MY AIAH.”
“Hey,” Aiah said with a lopsided smile. “I just came to check the results… but I think I got more than I came for.”
Mikha.exe has stopped working.
-
There are moments in a high school girl’s life when time slows down.
For Mikha, it was now.
In front of her stood the girl she secretly adored for two years — after she accidentally called her “My Aiah” and did a literal backflip and split combo straight out of a telenovela. Mikha wanted to sink into the linoleum floor and respawn somewhere far away, like Antarctica.
“Hi, Mikha,” Aiah said again, lips curled in amusement.
Mikha blinked. “H-hi.”
She sounded like a dying robot.
Gwen, Colet, and Stacey were frozen too — not in shyness, but in pure chaos energy. They stared at each other with the most evil glint in their eyes.
Then Gwen whispered, “Do it.”
Stacey nodded. “You do it.”
Mikha sensed something was off, but it was too late.
Colet turned to Aiah with the most innocent fake smile in the universe and said:
“Aiah, did you know Mikha was campaigning for you nonstop?”
“Yup!” Gwen added cheerily. “Lahat ng tao sa STEM, ABM, HUMSS, pati SPED, kinampanya ka na niya. Grabe ‘yan!”
“Even the Grade 11s,” Stacey chimed in. “We’re pretty sure half of your votes were from her efforts alone.”
Mikha's eyes widened in terror. “GUYS WHAT THE HELL—”
But Aiah just stood there, stunned. Then… she smiled.
“Talaga?” she asked softly, looking directly at Mikha.
Mikha felt like she got struck by lightning. She fumbled over her words like an exposed simp.
“U-uhm. I—n-not really?? I-I mean—kinda? But not in a creepy way!” she said, voice cracking.
“I just—believe you’ll do a good job! You're really organized and— and you listen to people and— and you have this calm energy that makes everyone feel at ease and—”
She was spiraling. Words flying out like a broken faucet.
“And-and your campaign was really clear! Like, I read your platform—twice—okay, three times—so I just thought… yeah… she should win…”
There was a pause.
Then Aiah stepped forward.
Her face was still pink, but she looked so warm. Sunset at 5:30 PM.
“Thank you, Mikha,” she said.
And then… she hugged her.
Not just a pat-hug. Not a half-hug.
A real, soft, genuine hug.
Mikha froze in place. Her arms stayed limp at first, then slowly raised to gently tap Aiah’s back like a confused penguin.
‘Omg. She’s hugging me. She’s actually hugging me. This is not a fever dream. My soul is ascending. Goodbye Earth.’
Gwen was already secretly recording with Colet, while Stacey took a blurry pic mid-hug. The rest of the class was whispering and giggling.
When Aiah pulled away, she smiled at Mikha again — her dimples looking illegal.
“I really appreciate it,” she said.
Mikha stuttered out, “Y-you’re welcome, Aiah.”
Her voice barely audible. Her face tomato red.
Then Aiah waved goodbye and walked out, but before turning the corner, she looked back for one second… and smiled again.
Mikha?
Mikha’s legs gave out. Literally.
She sat on the floor like a fainting goat.
Her friends? Lost their minds.
“MUKHANG NAWALAN NG KURYENTE ANG KATAWAN NIYA.”
“SHE DIED AND RESPAWNED IN THE SAME SPOT.”
“DAMN GIRL, GET A GRIP.”
But Mikha couldn’t even reply. She just kept whispering to herself:
“She hugged me. She hugged me. She. Hugged. Me.”
And then Gwen said the words that brought her back to Earth:
“Babe. She’s winning. Like, sa total count. Landslide both sa G11 and G12.”
Mikha blinked. Then blinked again.
"FUCK. I have to confess."
-
The day ended with the entire school buzzing. Posters being removed, class ballots being tallied, rumors flying faster than the actual results. Mikha tried to act chill, but her hands were sweating and her soul was screaming.
She was reminded of her own words just days ago:
“Kapag talaga si Aiah ang pinakamarami ang boto sa lahat ng officers… aamin ako sa kanya.”
Her mouth wrote a cheque her heart wasn’t ready to cash.
Later that night, the official vote count was posted on the school group chat and bulletin board.
AIAH ARCETA – SCC PRESIDENT. HIGHEST TOTAL VOTES.
Mikha dropped her phone.
Her barkada screamed like it was New Year’s Eve.
“MAY BAKLANG MAG CO-CONFESS GUYS! GO!”
“HUWAG KANG TUTULALA SA HARAP NI AIAH PLS.”
“CONFESSION OR LEAK. IKALAT NAMIN YUNG FAN EDIT MO SA GC.”
Mikha, shaking: “I hate all of you.”
Colet: “We know. Get dressed. You’re going to Mahika HQ.”
It wasn’t exactly Mahika HQ. It was Aiah’s classroom. But same vibe.
Most students were already outside, waiting for their sundo or walking home. The hallways were quiet, almost solemn. The sky was pale orange. Mikha’s footsteps echoed.
She reached the door and saw Aiah inside, alone, packing her campaign props.
Mikha’s hand was shaking when she knocked.
“Hi…”
Aiah looked up, surprised. Then smiled.
“Oh, hi Mikha.”
Mikha entered slowly, heart in her throat.
“I just… wanted to congratulate you,” she said, voice soft. “You really deserved it. You’re gonna be such a good president, Aiah.”
Aiah looked down, a little shy.
“Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”
There was a pause.
Then Mikha, finally, took the leap.
“Actually… that’s not the only reason I came.”
Aiah tilted her head, curious.
“I just wanted to say that… I’ve liked you. For a long time.”
Silence.
“Like, two years kind of long. You know, the secret-fangirling-every-time-you-post kind of long. The I-memorized-your-campaign-jingle-before-you-even-launched-it kind of long.”
Aiah blinked. Then… her face turned pink.
“Oh.”
“And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same!” Mikha added, panicking. “I just… needed to tell you. Because I said I would. So. There. Yeah. I did. Okay. I’ll go now—”
But Aiah stood up.
“Wait.”
Mikha stopped.
Aiah took a breath, then smiled.
“Do you… want to walk with me to the gate?”
Mikha’s brain short-circuited. “Y-yeah. Sure.”
They walked side by side. Quiet, soft steps.
The sun was nearly down, and the pink glow made everything feel like a dream sequence.
When they reached the gate, Aiah turned to her.
“Thank you again… for everything. Really.”
Mikha smiled, heart full.
Then Aiah climbed into her car.
Right before she closed the door, she leaned out and said:
“And Mikha?”
Mikha turned.
“Just so you know…”
“I’ve noticed you too.”
The door shut.
And Mikha just stood there.
Stunned. Mouth open. Brain: 404 error.
Then she screamed internally, spun in a circle, and started running to her own car like a lunatic. When she got home, she launched herself onto the bed, buried her face in a pillow, and SCREAMED.
-
9:37 PM.
Mikha was on her bed, freshly showered, wearing a worn-out old hoodie and her bunny shorts, hair damp and face still red from screaming into her pillow earlier.
She had replayed the moment in her head about 37 times now. The walk. The goodbye. The smile. The “I’ve noticed you too.”
She kicked the air.
Then hugged her pillow.
Then screamed into it again.
Repeat cycle.
Her GC with Gwen, Colet, and Stacey was wild:
Gwen:
YOU REALLY CONFESSED???? OMGGGG
Stacey:
SHOOKT. LEGEND. ICON.
Colet:
“I’ve noticed you too”??? TF. IS THIS A MOVIE.
Mikha:
GUYS I’M STILL SWEATING I’M GONNA DIE STFU.
Just as she was typing a reply, her phone buzzed.
Instagram notification.
From “maraiah.queen”
Mikha blinked.
Then blinked again.
She opened the app, her heart beating faster than it legally should.
[maraiah.queen: hey, just wanna tell u...]
She stared at the chat bubble.
It said “typing…”
[maraiah.queen: i’ve always thought you were really cool. and funny. and kinda really cute too (not kinda)]
Mikha’s phone almost flew out of her hand. She SCREAMED.
“HALA FUCK TANGINA PUTANGINA TANGINA WHAAAATTTTTT”
She rolled on her bed like a worm in distress. She almost cried. Her hands were trembling like she was being possessed.
Then her phone buzzed again.
[maraiah.queen sent a photo]
She opened it.
It was the picture of them.
The picture.
The one from earlier.
But it wasn’t the one Gwen took — it was the same shot… but from AIAH’S phone.
Mikha’s eyes widened.
She had it saved too?
[maraiah.queen: hope you don’t mind i saved it. you look nice in it 🩷]
Mikha almost threw her entire phone across the room.
She looks nice??? NICE??? In WHAT WORLD.
She typed back with shaking hands.
[mikkkkkka: omg no i don’t mind 😭😭😭]
[mikkkkkka: YOU LOOK PERFECT IN IT TBH]
[mikkkkkka: u look like… ugh. like a music video lead or smth. like a pink fairy. or a president-slash-popstar. idk 😭😭😭]
She slapped her forehead.
“I SOUND LIKE A GAGO. I AM GAGO.”
Aiah replied after a few seconds.
[maraiah.queen: haha stoppp ur making me smile like an idiot rn]
[maraiah.queen: btw... can i tell u a secret?]
Mikha sat up straight. A secret?
[mikkkkkka: yes pls i live for secrets]
[maraiah.queen: i kinda knew about your bet]
Mikha dropped her phone.
WHAT.
She picked it up in panic.
[maraiah.queen: just heard one of your friends hinted it accidentally during campaign day HAHAHA]
[maraiah.queen: i thought it was funny. and cute. and brave. and ngl… i kinda wanted to win even more because of it]
Mikha was silent.
Then she whispered to herself:
“I’m going to ascend. This is it. Goodbye world. Tell my dog I loved her.”
[mikkkkkka: i literally have no words rn]
[mikkkkkka: my soul is floating in space]
[mikkkkkka: you’re too much. this is illegal levels of kilig]
Then Aiah sent one last message.
[maraiah.queen: goodnight, my personal campaign manager 🩷 see u tomorrow?]
Mikha screamed again, hugged her pillow, and kicked her legs like a girl in a Disney Channel sleepover.
She typed back:
[mikkkkkka: goodnight, president 🩷]
Then she turned off her phone and buried her face in the pillow.
Tears of joy. Literal tears.
She whispered to herself:
“This is the best day of my life.”
And somewhere across the city, in her own pink-lit bedroom, Aiah was lying on her bed, smiling at her screen.
The picture still open.
Their picture.