Archive of Our Own

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Magical. 

Iyon ang unang pumasok sa isip ni Mingyu habang pinagmamasdan ang reception hall. The plain barn-like function room was transformed into a magical place thanks to the mix of yellow hyacinths and violets he handpicked and the string fairy lights he hung himself. Hindi ito kasing engrande ng mga million-dollar weddings na ginagawa niya sa Manila Hotel or sa Balesin. But it was intimate—rustic, warm, and very Seungkwan and Vernon. 

Every hanging wisteria and every candle placed on the reclaimed wood tables were meant to tell a story. A story he witnessed throughout the years. So he poured everything here.

Alam ni Mingyu kung saang kalsada unang nag-holding hands ang dalawa; alam niya kung anong kanta ang nagpaiyak kay Seungkwan noong muntik na silang maghiwalay ni Vernon. At alam niya din kung paano hindi nagpatinag ang dalawa sa mga hamon na kinaharap nila. Kaya kahat ginawa ni Mingyu para maging mas espesyal ang araw ng kaniyang mga kaibagan. 

Mingyu had always believed weddings were special. Not because of the flowers, the food, or even the ceremony itself. It was because of the celebration of love on that day that made it special. He really, truly believed in celebrating love. Kahit anong klase pa iyan. Na sa gitna ng magulo at nakakapagod na mundo, may mga sandaling ganito—mga sandaling tila tumitigil ang oras para sa dalawang taong nagmamahalan.

At twenty-nine, Mingyu felt like he was becoming the patron saint of Happily-Ever-Afters for everyone except himself.

He leaned against the flower-decked arch as he watched Seungkwan laugh while Vernon whispered something in his ear during their first dance. It was beautiful. It was magic. For a second, naramdaman ni Mingyu ang pamilyar na kirot sa dibdib niya, yung kirot ng pagiging always the Best Man and always the wedding stylist.

Siguro balang araw, hindi na lang ako ang laging naka-barong sa gilid. Siguro balang araw, may makakasayaw din ako ng parang wala ng bukas. Siguro balang araw—

A click traitorously interrupted his wishful musing.

Isang pamilyar na tunog na iyon sa kaniya. It was sharp and mechanical. Isang parang karayom na tumusok lobong binuo ng daydream ni Mingyu. Biglang gumuho ang romantic na mood na binuo niya sa isip niya at napalitan ng pamilyar na iritasyon na iisang tao lang ang laging pinaglalaanan. He didn’t even need to look to know who it was. 

“Wonwoo Lorenzo Jeon,” bulong ni Mingyu bago siya naglakad nang mabilis patungo rito.

Naglakad siya patungo sa madilim na sulok malapit sa buffet table. Doon, nakatayo ang lalaking tila sumpa sa career ni Mingyu. Wonwoo was clad in his usual black vest over a white shirt, looking too professional and too cold for such a warm event. 

“Burahin mo ‘yan,” bungad ni Mingyu pagkalapit na pagkalapit.

Hindi man lang nagbaba ng camera si Wonwoo. He continued shooting, adjusting the lens with his long fingers moving with a clinical precision that Mingyu found incredibly annoying.

“The lighting was perfect, Mingyu. Don’t ruin the shot,” Wonwoo replied, his voice flat, not even glancing away from the viewfinder.

“I said delete it! Alam ko namang hindi si Seungkwan ang kinukuhanan mo kanina. Ako na naman, ‘di ba? Ano ‘to, for your ‘Stressed and Single’ collection ulit na ipopost mo as a comic relief sa IG mo?” Mingyu stood in front of the lens, blocking the view.

Doon lang nagbaba ng camera si Wonwoo. He looked at Mingyu with that deadpan expression that always made Mingyu want to pull his hair out.

“Actually, I was capturing the contrast. The beautiful wedding... and the wedding stylist looking like he’s about to have a mid-life crisis at twenty-nine,” Wonwoo adjusted his glasses. “It’s called candid realism, Mingyu Toni Kim. Try it sometime.”

“Realism mo mukha mo! I am building a brand, Wonwoo! Pinaghihirapan ko ang bawat magical moment dito, tapos sisirain mo lang with your so-called truthful shots? Pagmumukhain mo na naman akong kawawa? Gagawin mo na naman akong memeable. You make romance look like a crime scene!"

“Your branding is fine. Mas tao ka ngang tingnan sa mga kuha ko, eh,” Wonwoo shrugged, turning his back to check the settings on his film camera. “And besides, it was a candid shot. Real emotions are rare in your world of... what do you call this again? Magical moments?”

“Kahit kailan talaga, ang nega mo! Weddings are supposed to be magical! Bakit ba hindi mo makita yun?”

“I see the logistics, Mingyu. I see the flowers that will wilt in two hours and the budget that could’ve bought a small condo,” Wonwoo looked at him again, his gaze lingering just a second too long for Mingyu’s comfort. “But if you want it deleted, fine. But you’ll owe me. I missed the perfect angle of the first dance because of your tantrum.”

“Tantrum? Ako pa ang may tantrum?!” Mingyu huffed, his chest heaving in his perfectly tailored barong. “Sa susunod talaga, kahit ikaw pa ang pinaka-sought after na photographer sa bansa, hinding-hindi na kita irerecommend sa projects ko!”

“As if you have a choice,” Wonwoo smirked, a small yet still irritatingly handsome twitch of his lips. “You need my lens to make your magic look believable, Mingyu. Otherwise, it’s just a bunch of expensive weeds.”

“You are so... arrogant!” Namumula na ang mga tenga ni Mingyu. Lumingon siya sa paligid—sa mga kaibigan nilang masaya, sa mga bulaklak na pinili niya nang may pagmamahal—at biglang naramdaman ang bigat ng lahat. Ang hirap maging romantiko sa harap ng taong walang ibang nakikita kundi technical flaws.

Mingyu straightened his barong, his jaw tightening. This was the last straw.

“Alam mo, tama na to. This is the last time, Wonwoo. I’m blacklisting you from the MK Weddings. Humanap ka ng ibang biktima na kukunan mo ng pangit na anggulo, dahil hinding-hindi na tayo magtatrabaho ulit. Ever.”

Natigilan si Wonwoo. Sandali siyang tumingin kay Mingyu, tila tinitimbang kung seryoso ito. Then, instead of arguing or apologizing, he simply tilted his head.

A small, maddeningly confident smirk played on Wonwoo’s lips—yung tipong alam niyang hindi totoo ang sinasabi ni Mingyu dahil siya lang ang tanging photographer na kayang kumuha ng magic na ginagawa nito.

“Okay. Sabi mo, eh,” Wonwoo said softly.

He didn’t wait for a rebuttal. Wonwoo just turned around and walked away, the strap of his camera swinging casually against his side. He disappeared into the crowd of laughing guests, leaving Mingyu standing alone amidst the scent of flowers, fuming, and feeling—infuriatingly—more noticed than he had felt all night.

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Incredulous. 

That’s how Wonwoo felt when he looked at Mingyu’s work in weddings. In a good or bad way, Wonwoo couldn’t decide yet. Basta ang alam niya habang tinitingnan ang mga kuha niya sa kasal nina Seungkwan at Vernon ay nagawa na naman nitong i-transform ang isang ordinaryong lugar kasalan into something that would look beautiful in the camera. 

Tahimik niyang pinagmamasdan ang mga imaheng unti-unting lumilinaw at nabubuo sa mga nakasampay na litrato sa dark room ng kaniyang studio. Hindi kagaya ng mga kuha niya sa kaniyang digital camera na may pagkakataon pa siyang i-edit at pagandahin, ang mga kuha niya gamit ang film ay lalabas na kung paano niya ito nasaksihan sa kaniyang mga mata. Sure, framing and lighting would play a big role on how it will turn out, but Wonwoo should give credit where it was due. Mingyu, as annoyingly passionate he could be about his flowers, could really make a picture worth a thousand. Quiet, literally.

Lumibot ang kaniyang mga mata sa mga natutuyo nang litrato hanggang sa napahinto siya isang larawan sa dulo ng linya. 

It was the shot. Ang shot na dahilan kung bakit sila nag-away na naman ni Mingyu kagabi. On it, Mingyu was leaning against a floral pillar, his face caught in a moment of pure, unadulterated yearning. May ilang hibla ng buhok na humaharang sa mata nito, at ang lighting—saktong-sakto ang pagtama ng warm yellow glow ng fairy lights sa gilid ng mukha ni Mingyu.

He looked soft. Vulnerable. He looked like the very magic he was always preaching about.

Wonwoo didn’t realize he was leaning closer. Hindi rin niya napansin ang bahagyang pag-angat ng sulok ng labi niya—isang maliit, halos hindi makitang ngiti.

“Kung hindi ko lang alam na para kayong aso’t pusa kung mag-away, iisipin ko na crush mo yang si Mingyu Kim, eh.”

Halos mapatalon si Wonwoo sa gulat. Mabilis siyang umatras at nilipat ang tingin sa ibang mga larawan. Lumingon siya kay Seokmin na kapapasok lang sa darkroom na may dalang dalawang tasa ng kape at isang nakakalokong ngisi.

“Crush? Me? Excuse me,” Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, his voice regaining its usual flat, defensive tone. “No. Hindi ko siya gusto. I was just... analyzing the focal point. Masyadong malakas ang saturation ng flowers niya, it’s distracting.”

Seokmin chuckled, placing the coffee on the desk away from the trays of chemicals. “Sus. Focal point daw. Pero titig na titig ka sa mukha ni Mingyu? Wonwoo Lorenzo, aminin mo na. Kahit gaano ka-nega yang pananaw mo sa mundo, naku-curious ka rin sa ‘magic’ na sinasabi niya.”

“Magic? It’s not magic, Seokmin. It’s just clever placement of light and overpriced weeds,” Wonwoo rolled his eyes, taking a sip of the bitter coffee. “I don’t understand him. He spends hours choosing the right shade of white for a ribbon as if the world’s peace depends on it. He’s living in a fairytale story with happy endings. But I’m just trying to capture the reality that everyone eventually goes home and the flowers eventually die.”

“Grabe siya,” Seokmin shook his head, leaning against the table. “Baka pag nakuha ka na sa London, mamiss mo yan ah. Mamimiss mo yung may inaasar ka tuwing shoot.”

Wonwoo sighed. London. He never believed in dreams because they could be too messy and too unpredictable but he believed in achievable goals, and right now, his ultimate goal had a name: Tatler International. Pero kahit gaano kalinis ang portfolio niya, tila may pader siyang hindi matibag-tibag.

“Kumusta na nga ba application mo dun?” tanong ni Seokmin, seryoso na ang tono nito.

Wonwoo leaned back, rubbing his temples. “May hinahanap pa sila sa portfolio ko, eh. They actually said they needed something... ethereal. Something that feels alive and soulful. Eh, saan naman ako hahanap nun? I capture facts, Seokmin. Hindi ko naman kayang mag-magic.”

Seokmin’s curiosity was piqued. Kinuha niya ang phone ni Wonwoo na nasa mesa at binasa ang feedback email mula sa Tatler editor. Pagkatapos, tumingin siya kay Wonwoo, tapos sa mga negatibong nakasabit, tapos balik kay Wonwoo.

“Ang hirap sa’yo, Wonwoo, kung saan-saan ka pa tumitingin, eh nasa harap mo naman na yung sagot.”

Wonwoo furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?”

Hindi sumagot si Seokmin. Sa halip, hinawakan niya ang ulo ni Wonwoo at dahan-dahang iniharap sa larawang nasa sulok.

Mas malinaw na ngayon ang larawan ni Mingyu. Ang emosyon sa mga mata nito, ang detalyeng binuo nito sa paligid—the soulfulness the editor was looking for was literally radiating from the frame… from his eyes… from that damn expressive eyes. 

Wonwoo stared at the picture, then shook his head. “I don’t think even someone as skilled as Mingyu can pull that off for a high-fashion editorial. He’s too... commercial. Too sentimental.”

“Eh, diba may free will siya to plan that Xu-Wen wedding sa Batanes next month? Ano pang mas magiging high-fashion at high-society sa kasalan ng dalawang pinakamayaman at pinakamalaking pangalan sa business sector ng bansa,” Seokmin reminded him, his eyes sparkling with an idea. “Batanes is the perfect location for that soulful and ethereal vibe na hinahanap ng Tatler. For sure makakahanap ka dun ng subject for your soulful and alive entry with matching high society background pa. Oh diba very Tatler. And you know Mingyu—kapag siya ang humawak ng venue, kahit bato, nagmumukhang ginto.”

Wonwoo looked at the screen again. He looked at the way Mingyu’s head was resting on a petal in the photo, a silent testament to the care he put into things that didn’t last.

“No, I don’t think so,” Wonwoo said, his voice barely a whisper.

Pero sa loob-loob niya, may isang maliit na pag-asa na biglang sumibol, isang kakaibang pakiramdam na parang mga bulaklak na pilit pinamumukadkad ni Mingyu sa gitna ng mga sementadong ballroom.

Maybe he didn’t need to believe in magic. Maybe he just needed to borrow a bit of Mingyu’s.

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Not everyone hates Mondays.

Mingyu was one of those rare ones who looked forward to the first day of the week. Because unlike most workers, Mingyu’s events would always fall on weekends. So when everyone dreaded Mondays, Mingyu loved it. 

Habang ang lahat ay abala sa pagbalik sa kani-kanilang trabaho, heto siya at nakasandal sakanilang veranda sa ancestral home nila sa Alabang. May isa siyang basong iced coffee sa tabi at ang kaniyang paboritong sketchpad sa kandungan.

Usually his inspiration would come while his mind was in its most relaxed state. Pero ngayon, blangko pa din ang kaniyang papel para sa susunod nitong big event. This week was his last restful week before the planning and preparation for the Xu-Wen wedding in Batanes start next weekend. That wedding, on paper, was every stylist’s dream: unlimited budget, zero restrictions, and a client who basically said, “do your magic.”

Pero ngayon, para itong isang mabigat na hamon na hindi alam ni Mingyu kung paano sisimulan. He thrived in themes. He could manage budget restrictions. Pero mas mahirap maghanap ng inspirasyon kapag masyadong malawak ang mundo, kapag walang direksyon at walang limitasyon.

“Hoy Mingyu! Akala ko ba nandito tayo para mag-rest? Bakit nakikipag-titigan ka na naman sa sketch pad mo?”

Napabuntong-hininga si Mingyu nang makita si Jihoon na naglalakad patungo sa kanya. Kakalabas lang nito mula sa dining room, nakasuot ng oversized shirt at bitbit ang pamilyar na ‘huwag-mo-kong-kakausapin’ na aura. Si Jihoon ay isang freelancer musician, kaya kagaya niya, andito din siya sa bahay ng kanilang lolo sa katanghalian ng lunes.

“Naghahanap lang ng inspirasyon, Kuya Ji. Mahirap kasi ‘tong Xu-Wen project ko eh. I already did a wedding in Batanes pero hindi ko pa mahanap anong klaseng magic gagawin ko for this specific wedding,” sagot ni Mingyu, pilit na ngumingiti.

“Magic? Sus. Halika na doon, kanina pa naghihintay sina tita. Si Seungcheol ang ginigisa nila dun kasi ayaw pang umamin kung meron bang nagugustuhan o wala. Damayan natin. Tsaka last lunch na natin ‘to bago ako lumipad.”

Napatawa nang mahina si Mingyu. “Akala mo naman taon ka mawawala. Isang buwan ka lang sa US para sa taekwondo tour ni Soonyoung, kung makapag-paalam ka parang ‘di ka na babalik. Kung tutuusin di mo naman nga kailangan sumama doon eh.”

“Shut up,” Jihoon grumbled, though his eyes softened. “Isang major tour yun, ako incharge sa gagamitin nilang music, mahirap iwan sa iba yung mga mahahalagang project.”

“O mahirap iwan si Soons?” asar ni Mingyu.

Pero deep inside, alam ni Mingyu na mamimiss niya ang paboritong pinsan. Simula nang maging seryoso ang relasyon nina Jihoon at Soonyoung, nabaling na ang lahat ng atensyon ng pamilya nila kay Mingyu. Si Jihoon ang buffer niya—ang kakampi niya tuwing tinatanong siya ng mga tita nila kung kailan siya magse-settle down. Kapag wala na si Jihoon, siya na lang ang mag-isang haharap sa interrogation ng pamilya Kim.

Biglang nag-vibrate ang phone ni Mingyu sa ibabaw ng lamesa. Nanliit ang mga mata niya nang makita ang screen. Pang-sampung beses na yata itong tumatawag ngayong araw.

Agad niyang ni-decline ang tawag. Pero wala pang limang segundo, tumunog na naman ito.

“Ano ba?!” inis na bulong ni Mingyu. Sa sobrang asar, itinago niya ang phone sa kaniyang bulsa.

“Sino ba yang tawag nang tawag sa’yo? Baka manliligaw mo na yan ah,” pansin ni Jihoon habang nakasandal sa pintuan at hinihintay ang pinsan na tumayo na. “Kaya ka di nagkakajowa dahil sinusungitan mo lahat.”

“Hindi manliligaw yun. Pusa lang yun, isang malaki at isang gwap-MALI isang makulit na pusa,” sagot ni Mingyu bago tumayo at sumunod kay Jihoon.

Pagpasok nila sa main living room, dumaan ang tingin ni Mingyu sa wall of portraits ng pamilya nila. Karamihan ay masasayang pictures ng mga mag-asawa, pero sa dulo, may ilang portraits na mag-isa lang ang subject. The lone ones.

Sa pamilya nila, may pinaniniwalaan silang sumpa. A curse that had been passed down from generation to generation. Hindi sigurado si Mingyu kung kailan ito nagsimula o kung ano ang sanhi pero diumano lahat ng hindi nakahanap ng partner by the age of 30, hindi na kailanman nakahanap pa. May ilang mga nakakatanda na tinatawan lamang ito kapag naririnig na ikwinekwento sa mga nakababata sa kanila. But Mingyu couldn’t help but think it was real. 

At 29, Mingyu could feel the clock ticking louder than the grandfather clock in their hallway. Para sa kanya, mas nakakatakot pa itong harapin kaysa noong nag-come out siya sa pamilya niya noong 18 siya. At least back then, he was sure of who he was. Now? He wasn’t sure if the universe was even listening.

Bago pa siya mag-spiral ay naramdaman niya ulit ang pag-vibrate ng kaniyang cellphone sa bulsa niya.

“Sagutin mo na,” kantyaw ni Jihoon nang makita ang pag-ilaw ng screen sa bulsa ni Mingyu. Lumapit ito at tinapik siya sa balikat na may nakakalokong ngisi. “Baka yan na ang hinahanap mong ‘The One.’ O baka naman yan na ang sign na matatapos na yang sumpa mo bago ka mag-thirty.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes but his heart did a weird, nervous flutter. Kinuha niya ang phone. Still the caller ID he hated. He sighed, walked a few steps away from the noisy dining room, and finally swiped to answer.

“Bakit ka ba tawag ng tawag?” bungad agad ni Mingyu sa kausap.

“Mingyu. It’s Wonwoo.”

“I know,” Mingyu sighed, “that’s why I’m not answering the phone because it’s you.”

“I need your help,” Wonwoo suddenly said, his voice urgent yet still calm. 

Natigilan si Mingyu. Ang ingay ng mga pinsan niya sa background ay tila nag-fade out. Si Wonwoo Lorenzo Jeon, ang isa sa pinakamapride na taong kilala niya, kailangan ang kaniyang tulong.

Interesting, kumibot ang kilay ni Mingyu ng bahagya.

“And why would I even help you?” he asked, not hiding his annoyance the slightest.

“Because you might need me as well?” Wonwoo said, making Mingyu roll his eyes.

“Wait… don’t hang up,” dagdag ni Wonwoo, “I need to talk to you about the Batanes project. Can we meet tomorrow?”

Mingyu sighed. Oo nga pala, kaya malakas ang loob ni Wonwoo na tawanan lang ang deklarasyon niya na hinding-hindi na siya makikipagtrabaho ulit sakaniya, si Wonwoo nga pala ulit ang photographer sa Xu-Wen wedding.

Mingyu bit his lip, looking back at the portraits on the wall. He only had two months before he turned thirty and he would mostly spend that preparing for this project with someone unlikely to break this curse because he never and would never believe in any kind of magic.

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Wonwoo watched as Mingyu shook his head for the nth time.

Hindi ito makapaniwala kung paano tanggihan ni Mingyu yung proposal niya ng paulit-ulit. Alas-diyes pa lang ng umaga at maaraw naman sa labas pero itong studio ni Mingyu sa Salcedo, para nang binagyo sa gulo. Nakakalat yung mga sample ng silk ribbon sa mga ergonomic chair, at yung tapang ng amoy ng imported hydrangeas, sapat na para mahilo si Wonwoo.

Hindi man lang nakaupo si Mingyu simula ng dumating siya dito. Para din siyang bagyo kung gumalaw. One moment, tinitignan niya ang texture ng velvet cloth samples, tapos lilipat agad para amuyin yung bagong batch ng dried lavender habang sumisigaw ng instructions sa staff niya. Habang si Wonwoo, sunod lang nang sunod sa kanya na parang pusa. 

“I said no, Wonwoo Lorenzo. Hindi ba sapat na pumayag pa din akong ikaw ang photographer sa Batanes? You want to document the process? No way,” Mingyu snapped, not even looking at the pitch deck Wonwoo was holding.

“Mingyu, listen to me. This isn’t just about the wedding day. I want the preparation. The raw effort. I want to capture how you build a dream from nothing,” Wonwoo argued, trying to keep his voice level despite his growing frustration. “This is the ‘soulful and alive’ element I need for Tatler.”

Mingyu stopped in his tracks and finally faced him, clutching a bundle of pampas grass like a scepter. “Alam mo ba kung anong hinihingi mo? For this project, I have to fly to Batanes two weeks early. I’ll be scouring local materials, dealing with the weather, and flying in imports minimally. It’s hard labor, Wonwoo. Hindi yun magical tignan. Para sa akin, wala namang makukuhang soulful doon. Puro ako at yung team ko lang na pawis na pawis at pagod na pagod.”

“That’s exactly what I want,” Wonwoo countered. “The sweat, the exhaustion, that’s what makes it real.”

“Para gawin mo na naman akong meme?” Mingyu’s eyes narrowed. “Para ipost mo na naman sa IG mo yung itsura ko habang hirap na hirap ako? You don’t get it. You’ve been posting those pictures and laughing at me.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you, Mingyu. I never looked at those pictures that way.”

“Then ano?” Mingyu snapped, his voice dropping an octave, becoming dangerously quiet. “Hindi mo kinakaawaan yung taong kahit anong ganda ng gawa... ay umuuwi naman mag-isa?”

Nanahimik si Wonwoo. Ramdam niya ang pagbigat ng hangin sa loob ng studio ni Mingyu. First time niyang makarinig ng ganung ka-vulnerable na side mula sa taong akala niya ay laging matatag at independent. Parang nagkalamat sa armor ni Mingyu Kim na hindi siya handang makita.

“I mean... isn’t that something everyone experiences anyway?” Wonwoo tried to argue, feeling out of his depth. “And besides, I thought you went on dates. You’re Mingyu Kim. Hindi dapat yan nagiging problema or frustration.”

Mingyu groaned, a sound of pure exasperation, and rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful. “Hindi mo talaga naiintindihan kasi hindi ka naman sumusubok.”

Wonwoo furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“With your flings and everything. ‘Di ba laging casual lang yung mga dates mo? You stay on the surface,” Mingyu challenged.

“And so?”

“So you don’t know how it feels to genuinely try searching and find nothing,” Mingyu sighed, turning back to his mood board. Wonwoo opened his mouth to offer something cliché—something about ‘it’ll come when you least expect it’—but Mingyu held a hand up to stop him.

“And wag mo akong bigyan ng ‘darating din yan’ or ‘hindi naman hinahanap ang love’ bullshit na yan. Because in my world, it is. Kailangan mag-effort. Kailangan paghirapan lahat para lang maranasan at mahanap ang magic. Love is a production, Wonwoo. Just like these weddings.”

Wonwoo was about to surrender. Ipapack-up na sana ni Wonwoo yung mga gamit niya at tatanggapin na hindi na talaga para sa kanya yung London gig nang biglang tumunog yung phone niya sa bulsa. Nilabas niya ito. Notification pala galing sa isang hotelier na kaibigan, tinatanong kung kailan daw siya mag-i-stay sa Batanes dahil baka mag-overlap ito sa acquisition niya ng property doon.

Si Jeonghan.

Yung kaibigan niyang kilalang single, impossibly charming, at perfect sa lahat ng bagay. Sa isang iglap, alam na ni Wonwoo kung paano makipag-negotiate kay Mingyu.

“Pano kung sabihin ko sa’yong may mapapakilala ako sa’yong pwede mong makatuluyan?”

Mingyu froze, his hand hovering over a piece of lace. He slowly turned around. “Ano?”

“My best friend. He’s based in London but he’s coming here. He’s... everything you want. He believes in signs, he likes romantic gestures, and he’s looking for something serious. Tutulungan pa kitang makasundo siya. I know him so well it would be easy to make him fall in love with you.”

Mingyu looked at him with intense suspicion, his eyes searching Wonwoo’s face for the punchline. “And what would you get from that?”

Wonwoo stepped closer, a small, maddeningly confident smile playing on his lips. “Photos of you falling in love—soulful and alive. I get my portfolio; you get your person.”

Wonwoo tilted his head, watching the gears turn in Mingyu’s head. “That’s a win-win for us, ‘di ba? Pag nakuha ko yung London gig, mawawalan ka na ng bwisit sa buhay mo... pero may maiiwan sa’yong love life.”

Mingyu looked at the wall of lone portraits in his mind, then back at Wonwoo’s smirk. He let out a long, shaky breath. “Deal. Pero kapag hindi ito gumana, Wonwoo... sisiguraduhin kong hinding hindi na talaga tayo magkakatrabaho ulit.”

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OA, OA, OA. 

Inulit-ulit ni Mingyu ang salitang iyon sa isip niya na parang mantra, sinisisi ang sarili kung bakit siya naively pumayag sa proposal ni Wonwoo dalawang linggo na ang nakalipas.

At the time, his offer felt like a lifeline—isang paraan para takasan ang sumpa at sa wakas, mahanap ang magic na matagal na niyang kino-curate para sa ibang tao. But as he stepped out of the tiny Basco airport and felt the humid salty Batanes breeze, reality set in.

Akala niya, gaya ng huling dalawang linggo pagkatapos ng deal nila, kaya niya pa ring iwasan si Wonwoo. Na-master na niya ang art ng pag-seen zone at pagsagot ng isang salita lang sa mga makulit na text ni Wonwoo. Kahit sa chartered flight, nagkunwari siyang tulog at nagpatay-malisya noong sadyang pinili ni Wonwoo na maupo sa tabi niya.

Pero maliit lang ang Batanes at mas maliit pa ang van na naghihintay sa kanila.

Sinubukan ni Mingyu na magmadali, target niya ang front passenger seat para makapag-isa, pero mas mabilis si Wonwoo. O baka mas makapal lang talaga ang mukha nito. Bago pa man maisara ni Mingyu ang pinto, nakasingit na si Wonwoo sa front bench seat, kaya napilitan si Mingyu na umupo nang dikit na dikit sa kanya, balikat sa balikat.

“Ang dami-daming space sa likod, doon ka na kina Seokmin,” Mingyu grumbled, trying to shift his long legs away from Wonwoo’s.

“Avoidant ka ba?” Wonwoo whispered, loud enough only for Mingyu to hear over the engine’s roar.

“Ano?”

“Sabi ko, avoidant ka ba?” Wonwoo repeated, adjusting his glasses. “Kaya ka ata single eh, kasi ikaw mismo ‘yung lumalayo sa love. You’re literally trying to jump out of a moving vehicle just to stay six inches away from a person.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes, his chest tightening with that familiar irritation. “Ang layo ng sagot mo sa tanong ko, Wonwoo. At tsaka wag mo ibintang sa akin yung attachment style mo, ha? I’m here for work.”

“Eh bakit hindi mo sinasagot mga messages ko in the past two weeks? Edi sana nakapag-prepare na tayo bago pa tayo dumating dito,” Wonwoo countered, his voice flat but persistent.

“Anong prepare ba yan? Ang dating kasi sa akin, para lang magkagusto yang kaibigan mo sa akin ay kailangan kong baguhin buo kong pagkatao. What’s even wrong with me anyway?”

“Nothing,” mabilis na sagot ni Wonwoo.

The speed of the reply caught Mingyu off guard, making him blink. But Wonwoo didn’t miss a beat. “We just have to fine-tune how you approach dating. You’re too... intense. You treat every first date like a wedding finale.”

“Ayan!” Mingyu waved a hand emphatically, nearly hitting the rearview mirror. “Ayan ang ayoko sa mga sinasabi mo, eh. Ang turing mo sa dating at love, parang laro lang. Parang strategy guide sa video game.”

“But isn’t love a big game anyway?” Wonwoo argued, turning his head to look Mingyu in the eye. “Ikaw na nga nagsabi na kapag nakikipag-date ka, nagbubuhos ka ng time and effort. Resources that are limited for busy people like us. So I’ll help you use it efficiently and effectively. Think of me as your coach for the Jeonghan Open.”

Biglang dumaan ang van sa isang rough road—isang mabatong bahagi ng kalsada na karaniwan sa Batanes. The van lurched violently to the left. Without a grab handle within reach, Mingyu’s hand instinctively flew out and gripped Wonwoo’s forearm to steady himself.

Wonwoo didn’t flinch. He let Mingyu hold on, his skin cool against Mingyu’s heat.

As the van stabilized and they slowly approached the stone walls of their homestay and wedding venue, Mingyu didn’t let go immediately. He looked at Wonwoo’s profile, the stubborn set of his jaw. “Paano naman akong maniniwalang effective nga yang mga payo mo, eh wala ka namang girlfriend ngayon?”

“Partner,” Wonwoo corrected softly. “O kung ano mang politically correct term ang gustong gamitin ng iba. But you know, I’m not really looking for love... but I know I can charm one if I want to.”

Medyo tumalon ang puso ni Mingyu sa narinig. Medyo lang. Hindi kasi siya sigurado kung dahil ba yun sa sinabi ni Wonwoo, o dahil sa mabatong daan na tinatahak nila, o dahil hanggang ngayon ay hindi pa rin niya binibitawan ang braso ng lalaking nangako sa kaniyang ituturo sa kaniya ang mahika ng pag-ibig kahit hindi naman ito naniniwala doon.

“Fine,” Mingyu exhaled, letting go of Wonwoo’s arm as the van came to a full stop. “Show me your charm then, Wonwoo Lorenzo Jeon. Let’s see if your facts can actually beat my fate.”

Wonwoo just smirked, the familiar confident twitch of his lips appearing as he opened the door. “Watch and learn, Mingyu. Watch and learn.”

────୨ৎ────

Nothing was as vital to Wonwoo as a precise focal point, much like the sun is to the earth.

If the subject wasn’t sharp, the entire image was a failure. Rule niya ‘yun sa buhay. Pero habang pinapanood niya si Mingyu sa loob ng isang local handicrafts supplier sa Batanes, narealize ni Wonwoo na hindi uubra ang rule niya rito.

Nag-volunteer siyang sumama kay Mingyu sa ikalawang araw nila sa Batanes. Ngayon lang niya naintindihan kung bakit ganoon na lang ang relief ni Dino—nakakapagod palang bantayan ang boss nito.

Kung saan-saan nagpupunta si Mingyu. Hindi niya alintana ang alikabok sa paligid o ang sawdust na kumakapit na sa mamahalin nitong pantalon. Inikot niya talaga ang buong shop. Nakikipag-debate pa siya kanina sa isang local artisan tungkol sa curve ng isang lighthouse miniature na gagamitin niyang centerpieces sa reception. Tapos maya-maya ay bigla namang umupo para i-pet ang isang asong gala na pumasok sa shop. At lahat ng ‘yun, sa loob lang ng limang minuto. He wasn’t a static subject; he was a moving, breathing chaos.

“Wonwoo, tignan mo ‘to,” tawag ni Mingyu. Hawak niya yung maliit na bahay na bato na parang ito ang pinakamahalagang relikya sa mundo. “Ang galing ng craftsmanship, ‘yung lapat ng ilaw sa edges... kaya sila ang pinili kong gumawa ng centerpieces. May history ‘to, Won. May kaluluwa.”

Ibinaba ni Wonwoo ang camera niya, blanko ang ekspresyon. “It’s just wood, Mingyu. Pagkatapos ng reception, itatapon o itatago lang din ‘yan sa bodega. Dust collector.”

Inirapan siya ni Mingyu habang maingat na ibinabalik ang handicraft sa shelf. “Alam ko, Wonwoo. Hindi ako tanga. Kaya nga sila nagbabayad para sa‘kin, at kaya ka rin nila kinukuha, ‘di ba? Because people know that beautiful things are fleeting. You capture moments that vanish; I build things that eventually fade. Ginagawa natin ‘yun para kahit saglit, naging totoo.”

“Gets ko naman,” sagot ni Wonwoo habang tinatago ang camera sa bag nito. “I just don’t get the effort. Why do you build all this—this magic—when you act like the world is going to end if you don’t find a partner by thirty, all because of–ano nga yung sabi mo kanina?–a curse? Isn’t that exhausting? Creating a fairy tale you don’t even believe you get to live in?”

Napahinto si Mingyu. Naupo siya sa isang tumpok ng mga woodcrates, bahagyang bumagsak ang balikat niya sa narinig kay Wonwoo. Napatingin siya sa labas—sa bukas na pinto ng shop—tanaw dito ang mga burol ng Batanes, hindi alintana ang paghampas ng hangin sa kaniyang buhok.

“Ang great-grandparents ko, they survived the war and separation, pero nagkita pa rin sila,” panimula ni Mingyu, “Ang grandparents ko, binuo ang pamilya nila sa gitna ng political turmoil. At ang mama ko... she lived every day with the memory of my dad, and she told me stories about him until her lungs gave out.”

He looked at Wonwoo, his eyes clear and devoid of the usual bickering fire. “Love is the only thing that outlasts the chaos, Wonwoo. That’s the magic. And yes, my family is accepting—I’m out, my cousins are out, my aunties bring their partners to reunions. Pero may unspoken belief talaga sa clan namin na ang pag-ibig na magtatagal ay yung mahahanap mo bago ka mag-thirty.”

“Eh bakit thirty?” tanong ni Wonwoo. 

Nagkibit-balikat lang si Mingyu, “Maybe because that’s the age before you become too cynical? Or maybe before you forget how to hope.”

Nakatayo lang si Wonwoo habang nakikinig. Sa bawat salita ni Mingyu mas ramdam niya ang bigat ng camera sa leeg niya. Pinagmasdan niya ulit si Mingyu. Doon niya napagtanto na hindi lang pala quirk ang anxiety nito; it was a weight inherited from generations of people who had been lucky enough to find their person. Gone was the fiercely passionate wedding stylist. May ganitong side pala talaga si Mingyu. Isang side na natatakot na baka may expiration date ang kanyang Happily Ever After.

“That’s not a law, Mingyu,” sabi ni Wonwoo, his voice softer than he intended. “It’s just a deadline you’re imposing on yourself.”

“Talaga ba?” ganting tanong ni Mingyu, may maliit at malungkot na ngiti sa kanyang mga labi. “At ano bang alam mo tungkol doon? Hindi ka naman naniniwala sa expiration date, o sa magic, o kahit ano.”

Umiwas ng tingin si Wonwoo, nakatuon ang atensyon sa magaspang na pader ng workshop. “Nagpakasal ulit ang tatay ko noong forty-five na siya.”

The words slipped out before Wonwoo could stop them. Naramdaman niya ang biglang init sa likod ng kanyang mga mata, isang nakabaong hinanakit na akala niya ay tapos na siya. He had always told himself it didn’t matter, na life goes on, but saying it out loud felt different.

“He found someone new,” pagpapatuloy ni Wonwoo, his voice barely audible. “After my mother... after she died. He just picked up and started over, like my mother was a chapter he’d already finished reading. It hurt, Mingyu. Ang sakit na makitang masaya siya sa iba, na parang yung tinawag niya minsang love of his life ay placeholder lang pala.”

Napansin niyang nakakuyom na pala ang mga kamao niya. Hindi niya sinasadyang sabihin yun. Dapat siya yung tagamasid, hindi siya dapat nagsasabi ng mga ganitong kwento. He then felt a shadow fall over him. Mingyu had moved from the woodcrates and was standing right in front of him.

“Wonwoo,” tawag ni Mingyu. Wala na ang pang-aasar sa boses niya. He had seen it—the crack in his lens, the moment the cynical photographer dropped his guard. “That doesn’t mean your parent’s love is a placeholder. It means he was brave enough to try again, kahit na sobrang sakit.”

“O baka takot lang siyang mag-isa,” matigas na sagot ni Wonwoo, defensive pa rin.

“Maybe,” Mingyu conceded, and for a second, their eyes locked. “But isn’t being scared of being alone the most human thing we can be?”

Wonwoo couldn’t answer. He couldn’t. For the first time, he didn’t see Mingyu as a stylist, or a rival, or a meme. He saw a man who was terrified of an expiration date, standing in front of a man who was terrified that love was just an ephemeral mistake.

“You’re an idiot, Mingyu,” Wonwoo finally said, breaking the tension by turning back to the shelf to pick up the miniature lighthouse.

“And you’re a cynic,” sagot ni Mingyu, pero wala na ring galit sa tono nito.

Wonwoo kept his back to Mingyu while he packed the lighthouse miniature carefully in the box, his heart hammering against his ribs. Takot siyang lumingon. Natatakot siyang kapag lumingon siya, makikita ni Mingyu na sa unang pagkakataon sa buhay niya, he wasn’t just observing the magic. He was starting to wish he could believe in it, too.

For years, he had meticulously adjusted his focal point to keep the world at a safe, sharp distance. But as he stared at the blurred reflection of Mingyu in the dusty shop window, he realized with a sinking heart that his focal point had finally shifted, and for the first time, he was terrified to see exactly who had come into view.

────୨ৎ────

Focus, Mingyu.

Pinagalitan niya ang sarili niya habang nakatayo sa gitna ng bakuran ng lighthouse. Third day na nila sa Batanes at ang dating tahimik na paligid ay napuno na ng ingay ng mga delivery truck at mga trabahador. Dito ang magiging sentro ng Xu-Wen wedding ceremony at sa kabilang banda ang reception, at sa dami ng kailangang i-inventory na gamit—mga tela, mga kahoy, mga lighting equipment—dapat ay nakatutok lang siya sa checklist. Pero paano siya makakapag-focus kung may isang taong nakatuon ang atensyon sa kanya?

Click. Click. Click.

Kahit hindi lumingon si Mingyu, alam niyang si Wonwoo na naman iyon. Ang shutter sound ng camera nito ay tila isang ticking bomb na unti-unting nagpapabilis ng tibok ng puso niya. Nakaka-conscious. Parang bawat galaw niya—bawat pagpunas niya ng pawis, bawat pagbuhat niya ng mabigat na kahoy—ay kitang-kita nito. 

“Wonwoo, kailangan ko na ‘tong matapos,” mahinang sabi ni Mingyu, hindi inaalis ang tingin sa kaniyang clipboard. “Stop shooting for a while, please?”

Hindi sumagot si Wonwoo. Imbes na lumayo, naramdaman ni Mingyu ang paglapit ng anino nito. 

“Ang gulo ng buhok mo,” ani Wonwoo.

Bago pa man makapagreklamo si Mingyu, lumapit sa kaniya si Wonwoo na tila ba wala itong konsepto ng personal space. Hindi sigurado si Mingyu kung dahil ba photographer ito at sanay lumapit sa kahit anong or sinong kinukuhaan niya. Pero napatigil si Mingyu sa akto ng binata. 

Maingat na inalis ni Wonwoo ang isang hibla ng buhok na nakadikit sa noo ni Mingyu, at nang bumaba ang daliri nito, dahan-dahan nitong inalis ang isang naligaw na talulot sa pisngi ni Mingyu. 

Natigilan si Mingyu. Hindi niya naramdaman kanina na meron na palang kumapit na bulaklak sa mukha niya. Pero ang bawat segundong dumampi ang kamay ni Wonwoo sa pisngi niya, ramdam na ramdam niya.

“You’re too conscious,” mahinang sabi ni Wonwoo. Hindi pa din nito inaalis ang tingin sa mga mata ni Mingyu. “If you’re this nervous just because I’m taking photos, what are you going to do when Jeonghan arrives? Kailangan mong maging relaxed. You can’t look like you’re ready to bolt every time someone looks at you.”

Of course, this is still about matchmaking him to his friend. Ano bang iniisip mo, Mingyu. He berated himself.

“Pano ko gagawin yun?” tanong niya. “Hindi ko mapigilan. Agitated ako madalas kapag attracted ako sa isang tao. I get messy. I get clumsy. Hindi ko maitago.”

Naningkit ang mga mata ni Wonwoo. At imbes na lumayo, lalo siyang lumapit. Dahan-dahan niyang hinawakan ang mukha nito sa pagitan ng kanyang mga palad. Napalunok si Mingyu. Hindi niya maintindihan bakit siya kinakabahan sa distansya nila ni Wonwoo. 

“Then don’t show the agitation. Control it,” bulong ni Wonwoo, tila nagtuturo sa isang photography student, seryoso at malalim ang boses nito. “If you’re attracted, don’t look away. Stand your ground. Mirror their energy. If they lean in, you don’t pull back. You hold the space.”

“Hold the space?” Mingyu repeated, barely breathing.

“Yeah.” Dahan-dahang bumaba ang tingin ni Wonwoo mula sa pisngi patungo sa labi ni Mingyu, “Show them you’re not scared of the attention. Make them wonder if you’re attracted back. That’s how you get them.”

Mingyu tried to do what Wonwoo just said. Hold the stare, lean in, and mirror their energy. At nang mag-focus ang mata ni Mingyu kay Wonwoo, parang nawala ang lahat ng nasa paligid nila. Ang lighthouse, ang mga delivery trucks, at ang ingay ng construction. Lahat iyon naging blur na lang sa paningin ni Mingyu. Tanging ang titig ni Wonwoo lang ang nakikita niya. 

“Gets?” tanong ni Wonwoo, nakapako pa din ang mga mata sa labi ni Mingyu bago nag-angat ng tingin.

“Gets,” pabulong na sagot ni Mingyu, kahit ang totoo, wala na siyang maintindihan.

Binitiwan ni Wonwoo ang pisngi niya. “Good. Now, go back to the inventory, Mingyu. Huwag kang magpa-distract.”

Wonwoo gently pushed Mingyu back to his world. Dahan-dahang bumalik naman siya sa pwesto nito kanina. Si Wonwoo naman ay naka tingin na sa mga nakuhaan niyang larawan sa camera nito. Hindi alintana ang tensyon na naiwan sa paligid. O baka si Mingyu lamang ang nakaramdam noon? 

Mingyu shook his head. He’s just distracted just like Wonwoo said. He needed to focus. Focus on the wedding. Focus on the deal. Focus on finding something real.

────୨ৎ────

One true love.

Iyon ang sagot ni Mingyu nang tanungin siya ni Wonwoo kung ano ba talaga ang hinahanap niya. It was their fourth night, and the rest of the team had already retreated inside the homestay. Naiwan silang dalawa ni Wonwoo sa veranda, surrounded by the cool night air and the remnants of their dinner: uvud balls, some grilled fish, and a plate of fresh shrimps and crabs.

Habang nakikipagkwentuhan si Wonwoo tungkol sa tamang approach para kay Jeonghan—the notoriously picky best friend na darating sa susunod na linggo—hindi mapigilan ni Mingyu ang mapatingin sa mga kamay ni Wonwoo.

Wonwoo was peeling a shrimp. His movements were precise and yet weirdly elegant. There’s nothing special about the task. But the thing was, alam ni Mingyu na allergic si Wonwoo sa seafood. At sa loob ng apat na araw, hindi nito hinahawakan ang mga pagkaing inihahain sa kanila na may kinalaman sa dagat. Yet, here he was. Meticulously removing the shell, deveining it, and placing the clean, pink meat on Mingyu’s plate.

“Focus, Mingyu,” suway ni Wonwoo, hindi ito tumitingin sa kaniya pero alam niyang nahuli siya. “Sinasabi ko sa’yo, Jeonghan likes people who are true to themselves. You don’t have to be ‘the magic’ all the time. Just be... you.”

“Madaling sabihin yan,” Mingyu mumbled, his heart doing a strange flutter. “Pero paano kung sa ‘you’ na ‘yun, wala siyang makitang magic? Kagaya ng mga naka-date ko in the past. For them, I’m either overdramatic or not enough. There’s no in between. Paano kung magpakatotoo ako sa kaibigan mo tapos marealize niya na di ako match for him? Paano kung marealize niya na may kulang sakin?”

“You’re not kulang,” Wonwoo said, finally stopping his task. He placed the last shrimp on Mingyu’s plate and wiped his hands with a napkin. “But maybe you’re trying to find the wrong kind of love and meeting a bunch of wrong people. Maybe you’re looking for something that only happens in movies. Mahirap talaga ibigay yun. Yung love na intense at nakakaubos.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Mingyu challenged, his voice softening. “Isang beses lang naman tayo mabubuhay, bakit hindi natin ibibigay lahat?”

“Because if you give everything,” Wonwoo countered, his gaze shifting to the dark horizon, “kapag naiwan kang mag-isa, wala ka nang matitira sa sarili mo. I’ve always held a part of myself back. Para kung sakaling umalis sila, I’m not empty. I’m still whole.”

Mingyu felt a pang of sadness. So that was it. That was the cynical photographer’s armor. “Wonwoo... hindi pag-ibig ang tawag doon kung nagtitira ka para sa sarili mo. That’s just a transaction. Like a business deal.”

“It’s survival,” Wonwoo retorted, though the sharpness was gone.

“Survival isn’t the same as living,” Mingyu said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “At tsaka ‘One Great Love’, yung tinutukoy mo, it consumes you. It leaves marks. Pero it isn’t always built to last. But yung gusto kong mahanap? Yung One True Love? It’s mature. It’s stable. It’s the conscious choice to endure together, kahit mahirap, kahit hindi na ganun ka-intense ang passion. It’s peace, Wonwoo. Hindi ka natatakot na iwan ka kasi alam mong nagdedesisyon kayong dalawa araw-araw na manatili.”

“And how do you know if what you found is your one true love?” Wonwoo asked, his voice suddenly very quiet. “What are the signs? You believe in them right?”

Mingyu hesitated, tracing the rim of his glass. “My mom told me... for me, I hiccup. It’s my tell. Palagi akong naghihiccup kapag masyadong intense ang emosyon ko, kapag anxious ako, or kapag yung taong kasama ko is someone I’m desperate to impress. It’s my sign of chaos. It’s a sign of me falling in love.”

Wonwoo paused, his eyes softening as he looked at Mingyu. “You hiccup?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu said, feeling sheepish. Just as the word left his lips a small, involuntary hiccup escaped him. He immediately covered his mouth, embarrassed and waiting for the mockery. Waiting for Wonwoo to call him childish or intense.

Wonwoo looked at him, his expression unreadable. “And you’re hiccupping right now.”

“Hindi ah,” Mingyu lied, his face heating up.

“You are,” Wonwoo murmured. A low, genuine chuckle escaped Wonwoo. He reached out, his fingers brushing against Mingyu’s wrist as he grabbed the glass of water on the table and handed it to him. The contact was brief but it sent a shockwave through Mingyu’s nerves. The tension in the air was thick, almost suffocating, but Wonwoo didn’t pull away.

“Huwag mo kong pagtawanan,” Mingyu defended as he drank the water Wonwoo poured for him. He could feel his heart was hammering against his ribs with every gulp.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Wonwoo whispered, leaning closer, the smell of the ocean hanging between them. “I’m just... surprised. You’re always so composed, Mingyu. Always styling the world to look perfect. It’s nice to know there’s a part of you that’s beautifully messy.”

Mingyu took another sip, the water cool against his throat. He looked at Wonwoo, his gaze steady, finally finding the courage to connect the dots.

“But I realized something lately,” Mingyu continued softly. “Maybe my One True Love isn’t the one who makes me hiccup. Maybe, the one who is truly meant to last... is the person who makes those hiccups stop.”

Wonwoo blinked, clearly caught off guard. “So, you’re looking for someone who doesn’t make you nervous?”

“No,” Mingyu said, holding Wonwoo’s gaze. “I’m looking for someone who makes me feel safe enough to be still. Yung hindi na kailangang mag-isip kung magugustuhan ba niya ako. The kind of love that doesn’t feel like a high-stakes performance, but like... breathing. A love that can be found in little things,” He gestured to the plate of shrimps before he could stop himself. “Like you peeling these shrimps even though you hate them.”

Wonwoo went perfectly still. The air between them changed; the matchmaking conversation felt a lifetime away. Mingyu realized, with a start, that his breathing had evened out. The tension in his chest was gone, replaced by a strange, quiet calm.

His hiccups had finally stopped.

Wonwoo’s eyes searched Mingyu’s, dropping down to his lips, then back up. The silence stretched, and for the first time, neither of them looked away. 

He realized then that they were in dangerous territory. They were revealing too much—the fears, the tells, the messy parts of their souls that they usually kept hidden behind lenses and flower arrangements.

It was terrifying. It was too much, too fast.

But as he held Wonwoo’s gaze, Mingyu realized something else: he liked it. He liked being seen this way—not as the talented stylist, not as the guy with the family curse, but as the man who hiccups when he feels too much. He realized that for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to look away. He wanted Wonwoo to keep looking at him, exactly like this, until the world stopped spinning.

────୨ৎ────

Rangefinders had always been Wonwoo’s favorite. They were built for precision, for capturing life exactly as it happened, without the luxury of a zoom lens to hide behind. Kailangan mong lumapit para makuha ang pinakamagandang shot. Pero nitong mga huling araw, kabaligtaran ang ginagawa ni Wonwoo. Sinusubukan niyang lumayo.

Sinadya niyang magising nang tanghali sa ika-limang araw nila sa Batanes; mataas na ang sikat ng araw at tumatagos na ang liwanag sa loob ng kwarto niya pero nanatili pa din siya sa kama ng isa pang oras, habang paulit-ulit na nagpe-play sa isip niya ang alaala ng usapan nila ni Mingyu kagabi.

Maybe, the one who is truly meant to last... is the person who makes those hiccups stop.

Pilit niyang tinutulak palayo ang mga alaala na iyon, pero para itong isang sirang plaka, paulit-ulit itong bumabalik sa isip niya. Peace. Iyon ang hinahanap ni Mingyu—isang uri ng pag-ibig na tahimik, matatag, at hindi nakaka-anxious. Pero tignan mo naman siya. 

Si Wonwoo? He’s the chaos. Siya ang parang bagyong biglang dumarating sa gitna ng isang maaraw na hapon. Paano niya ibibigay ang kapayapaang kailangan nito kung ang mismong presensya niya ay sapat na para guluhin ang mundo ni Mingyu? He wasn’t a shelter; he was the storm. At sa mundong ito, hindi kailangan ni Mingyu ng bagyo. He needed an anchor, and Wonwoo knew, with a painful, suffocating clarity, that he could never be that for him. So why the hell was he imagining staying close to Mingyu for as long as he could? Why the hell was he comparing himself to Mingyu’s description of his one true love? Hindi naman niya goal magustuhan ni Mingyu. Ang goal niya ay makakuha ng winning shot ng binata, yung magpapakita na kaya niyang kumuha ng isang larawang puno ng emosyon. 

As if waking him up from his slumber, Wonwoo heard Mingyu’s voice outside. The construction of the wedding venue probably resumed already.

Pinilit ni Wonwoo bumangon sa kama at naglakad nang dahan-dahan patungo sa bintana. Hindi nga siya nagkamali. Sa ibaba, punong-puno ng buhay ang burol ng Batanes. Todo-kayod na ang team ni Mingyu sa pag-construct ng wedding venue.

Mingyu was in a plain gray shirt, his hair tied up in a small man bun. He was sweaty. He was frowning because of the sun. But he looked like a goddamn archangel instructing his querubins to construct a temple of love. 

Agad-agad kinuha ni Wonwoo ang camera sa nightstand nito. Itinaas niya ang kanyang Leica at sumilip sa viewfinder.

Nahanap niya agad kung nasaan si Mingyu. Naglakad ito patungo sa ilalim ng scaffolding habang nagbibigay pa din ng instructions sa kaniyang team. Basa na ng pawis ang buhok niya habang nakaturo sa isang poste. In-adjust ni Wonwoo ang focus. Akala niya, kaya niyang manatili na lang sa loob ng kwarto niya at i-capture si Mingyu mula sa malayo. Just a photographer documenting the work, nothing more.

But just as Wonwoo was about to capture the moment, the frame he built shattered.

Natisod ang isa sa mga trabahador na nakatayo sa ibabaw ng scaffolding. Hindi siya nahulog pero dumulas ang isang malaking floral foam mula sa kamay nito. Kitang kita ni Wonwoo ang pagindayog ng mga bulaklak sa era at pagtalon ng matulis na bahagi ng isang bulaklak direkta sa pisngi ni Mingyu.

Hindi man lang narinig ni Wonwoo ang pagbagsak ng camera niya sa sahig nang bitawan niya ito. Mabilis siyang lumabas ng pinto at kumaripas ng takbo pababa ng hagdan.

“Ano ba, Mingyu! Anong ginagawa mo?” hindi sinasadya ni Wonwoo na maging matalim ang boses nito. But what can he do? He just saw some blood blooming on Mingyu’s cheeks.

“Okay lang ako—” simula ni Mingyu habang hawak ang pisngi, halatang nagulat sa biglaang pagdating ni Wonwoo.

“Okay? Mukha bang okay yan?” singhal ni Wonwoo sabay hawak sa braso ni Mingyu nang napakahigpit.  “Bakit ka kasi sa ilalim ng scaffolding tumayo?”

Napakurap si Mingyu, halatang gulat na gulat. “W-wonwoo, it was an accident—”

“Accidents are for people who aren’t paying attention,” Wonwoo retorted, already pulling Mingyu toward the homestay. The staff exchanged a bewildered look but no one dared to argue with the photographer who looked like he might actually murder someone just because their boss got injured. 

Pagpasok nila sa homestay, pinaupo agad ni Wonwoo si Mingyu sa isa sa mga wooden stool sa island table ng kusina. Mabilis at maingat ang mga kilos ni Wonwoo habang kinukuha ang first aid kit.

“Huwag kang gagalaw,” utos ni Wonwoo. Nagpahid siya ng antiseptic ointment sa cotton swab. Bahagyang nangangatog ang mga kamay niya. Sa nerbyos o sa magkalapit nilang mukha, hindi na din sigurado si Wonwoo. 

Mingyu, sensing the tension, tried to look calm despite the numbing pain in his cheeks. He leaned back and closed his eyes. He teased,  “Pano ba ‘yan, Wonwoo. Baka ‘di na ko magustuhan ng kaibigan mo niyan. My face is ruined.”

Wonwoo paused, the cotton swab hovering over the bleeding line on Mingyu’s cheek. He looked at him—the way his eyelashes brushed against his skin, the sharp line of his jaw.

Damn. Napakagwapo pa din.

“Magugustuhan ka nun,” Wonwoo mumbled, his voice losing its edge. He carefully applied the ointment, the coolness of the cream a sharp contrast to the heat rising in his own chest.

Minulat ni Mingyu ang isang mata at tiningnan si Wonwoo. “Sinasabi mo ba yan dahil may kailangan ka sakin?”

Napatawa nang bahagya si Wonwoo bago tuluyang ibinaba ang hawak na swab. “You’re an idiot, Mingyu Toni Kim. Kahit nasasaktan ka na, idiot ka pa rin.”

“Wonwoo…” Mingyu hummed, his eyes drifting shut again. “Will you still take my photos even if I look like this? All bruised up and ugly?”

It was a test. A baiting question, full of the usual banter, but Wonwoo didn’t bite. Hindi siya nakipagbiruan pabalik. Tinitigan lang niya ang maliit na sugat sa mukha ni Mingyu and realized something clear and very much scary.

“Oo naman,” Wonwoo said. He hesitated, his voice dropping into a register that felt dangerously honest. “Because lately, you’re becoming my favorite subject.”

The room seemed to shrink. Minulat ni Mingyu ang mga mata niya; wala na ang pagiging mapaglaro nito. Lumapit si Wonwoo—mas malapit kaysa sa dati niyang hinahayaan—at sa isang segundo, akala niya ay lalapit din si Mingyu sa kanya. 

Pero bumukas ang pinto at biglang pumasok si Dino, “Sir Mingyu, andyan na po yung mga supplier para sa centerpieces, san mo gustong ila—oh.”

Napatigil si Dino, pabalik-balik ang tingin sa kanilang dalawa. Naka-lean pa rin si Wonwoo, ilang pulgada na lang ang layo ng kamay niya sa mukha ni Mingyu. 

“Ano ‘yun?” tanong ni Mingyu, garalgal ang boses nito habang unti-unting tumatayo, habang unti-unting dumidistansya kay Wonwoo.

“Yung miniature lighthouses, andyan na kasi,” utal na sabi ng staff habang paatras na lumalabas at nanlalaki pa din ang mga mata.

Tumango lang nang tipid si Mingyu, nilagpasan si Wonwoo nang walang imik. Ni hindi man lang niya tiningnan pabalik si Wonwoo. Nanatiling lang nakatayo si Wonwoo doon, nabibingi sa katahimikan sa loob ng kusina kung saan siya iniwan ni Mingyu. 

Ilang minuto pa niyang tinitigan kung pano direretso ulit nagtrabaho si Mingyu sa ilalim ng mainit na araw. Na para bang wala itong narinig na kakaiba mula kay Wonwoo. Na parang wala lang sa kanya ang narinig nito.

Because you’re my favorite subject?! Wonwoo Lorenzo anong klaseng sagot yun?! He berated himself before turning away from the scene. 

Bumalik si Wonwoo sa kanyang kwarto na daladala pa din ang isipin na iyon. Doon niya lang naalalang nahulog niya ang paboritong kamera kakamadali para silipin si Mingyu kanina. Napabuntong hininga siya habang pinupulot ang nahulog na Leica. Tinitignan niya agad ang lens—sinisiguro na safe ito, sinisiguro na hindi ito gasgas o sira—nang biglang mag-vibrate ang phone niya sa sahig.

Umilaw ang screen at bumungad ang isang pangalang nagpaalala kung bakit talaga siya nandito.

Jeonghan.

Lumingon si Wonwoo mula bintana, kung saan tanaw niya si Mingyu na abala pa din sa pagbuo ng kaniyang magical wedding venue. Hindi na dapat siya dito tumakbo palapit. Subjects are meant to be shot in a distance anyway. Even if it’s his favorite one. 

────୨ৎ────

Everything seemed to move fast. The past two days were a blur of errands, supply rounds, and endless construction of the “arc of love” Mingyu was aiming for. Pero kahit gaano pa kabilis ang takbo ng araw sa kaniya, para itong nagslo-slow mo sa tuwing lalapit sa kaniya si Wonwoo. 

Aside from taking behind-the-scenes photos of their preparation, Wonwoo made himself useful around the construction site. Mingyu tried to keep his rhythm steady, pero nahihirapan siya. Every time Wonwoo handed him a tool or fixed the stray hair on his forehead, he felt that familiar, dangerous spark.

But Mingyu kept reminding himself: He’s just being professional. He was just a means to an end. Wonwoo was obsessed with his Tatler London portfolio—he needed that soulful look, that raw vulnerability that only Mingyu could give him. 

I’m just a subject, Mingyu told himself, clutching the seatbelt until his knuckles turned white, trying to ignore the golden sun basking on Wonwoo’s face as they drove back from the woodshop to the lighthouse. Favorite subject, sabi niya. Key to his growth. Iyon lang ‘yun.

Palaging pinaalalahanan ni Mingyu ang kaniyang sarili na siya lang ang nagbibigay ng kulay sa mga kilos ni Wonwoo. Kasi kung talagang may ibang kahulugan na nga ang kabaitan nito, bakit kailangan niyang i-bring up ang kaibigang nirereto niya kay Mingyu sa bawat usapan nila?

“Magkakasundo talaga kaya nun,” Wonwoo concluded after telling Mingyu an anecdote on how Jeonghan had a hidden mischievous side that could make Mingyu laugh and relax. Just like he wanted. 

“Does he know you’re doing this just to get that London job?” Mingyu chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “Sobrang passionate ka magbenta ng single friend mo ah.”

Wonwoo glanced his way before turning back to the road, his expression unreadable. “Alam naman niya. Alam niyang ikaw yung subject ko for my next submission.”

Mingyu then asked, his hands fiddling with the old radio of the car to avoid thinking of the days he wouldn’t see Wonwoo anymore once he got the job. “Gustong-gusto mo makuha ‘yun, no? Pero bakit ang layo? Bakit London pa?”

Wonwoo didn’t pause. “It’s the logical next step for my career. The industry there is... stable. Mas mataas ang chance for growth. I can even possibly hold an exhibit there and even sell my photos and services at a higher price. It’s the right move.”

“Logical,” Mingyu repeated, his tone dry. “Pero yun ba ang gusto mo? Or is it just what your brain is telling you to want?”

Wonwoo glanced at Mingyu, his eyes narrow. “Is there a difference?”

“Of course there is,” Mingyu said, leaning his body towards the driver’s seat. “Logic is about surviving, Wonwoo. Desire is about living. Hindi mo ba naisip na baka, sa sobrang pagiging logical mo, nakakaligtaan mong tanungin ang sarili mo kung masaya ka ba?”

Wonwoo let out a sharp, self-deprecating laugh. “Happiness is a variable I can’t control, Mingyu. Logic is the only thing I have.”

Mingyu wanted to shake him. He wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that he was building a prison out of blueprints and bullet points. But then, as they pulled into the parking area of the lighthouse, the moment shifted.

Mingyu reached for his seatbelt, ready to end the torture. “Thanks for the ri—”

Wonwoo held him by the wrist. The grip was firm, electric.

“Ganun na lang ‘yun?” Wonwoo suddenly turned to him, his expression serious.

Mingyu gulped. “What do you mean?”

“You end dates like this?”

Mingyu chuckled, a nervous, jagged sound. “Hindi naman tayo galing sa date. Bumili lang tayo ng extra supplies sa bayan. Ni wala ngang romantic atmosphere ngayon eh.”

MALI. His mind screamed at him. The last part was a lie and they both knew it. Because the whole ride, Mingyu was imagining how his future would be doing these simple errands with Wonwoo by his side. MALING MALI! He silently corrected. He shouldn’t be thinking about Wonwoo specifically. He just needed to manifest doing it with someone. But his mind couldn’t be dictated, not when Wonwoo was looking at him like he was the only puzzle he couldn’t solve.

“Okay,” Wonwoo started, his voice clipped, trying to be the professional mentor. “Here’s the thing. You need to always be ready. Seduction isn’t just about looks. It’s about the approach.”

“Oh, really?” Mingyu teased, though his heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. “Show me, then. Teach me Coach Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo cleared his throat. “Okay. Look. Kapag nilapitan mo siya, it shouldn’t be too aggressive. It’s about intimacy. You get close… like this.”

Wonwoo shifted in his seat, leaning toward Mingyu while looking at the younger’s lips. “You have to bridge the gap. You have to make them feel like there’s no one else in the room.”

Mingyu felt the air leave his lungs. He leaned in, mimicking Wonwoo’s position, closing the distance until their foreheads were almost touching.

“Like this?” he whispered.

Wonwoo blinked, his composed exterior cracking.

“Yeah. Exactly like that. And then…” His voice trailed off, his gaze dropping to Mingyu’s mouth, then back up to his eyes. “You create tension. You look at them like you’re memorizing them.”

Wonwoo’s hand instinctively came up, his thumb brushing against Mingyu’s lower lip. It wasn’t coaching anymore. The air in the car had become heavy. An unknown static electricity crackled between them. Mingyu’s hand found Wonwoo’s arm, anchoring himself. Wonwoo didn’t pull away; he let out a jagged and uneven breath.

They were so close now, Wonwoo’s woody scent drowning out everything else. Mingyu started to lean in, his eyes fluttering shut, the world narrowing down to the warmth of Wonwoo’s skin.

But then a rhythmic knocking on the driver’s side window made them both jump like they’d been electrocuted.

Mingyu scrambled back, hitting his head against the door frame, while Wonwoo practically leaned back as far as the cramp space allowed, his face flushed a dangerous shade of red.

But in the split second that followed, Wonwoo snapped his mask back on, his face hardening into that familiar, unreadable professional mask. He smoothed his shirt with sharp, robotic movements, his eyes suddenly icy.

Wonwoo finally rolled down the window.

Standing outside, looking pristine and effortlessly charming in the golden hour light, was a man with a suitcase. The man smiled, his eyes crinkling in a way that made Mingyu feel a strange, sudden ache.

Jeonghan.

Kilalang-kilala na siya ni Mingyu kahit hindi pa siya ipinapakilala. Ilang beses na niyang in-stalk ang profile nito sa nakaraang linggo. He was what people would call an ‘ideal man’. 

“Hi,” bati ni Jeonghan, nagtatakang tumingin ito sa magulo nilang itsura ni Wonwoo. “Did I miss something?”

Hindi lumingon si Wonwoo kay Mingyu. Nakatingin lang ito sa bagong dating na kaibigan, “Nothing. Just... finishing up a… a lesson.” He looked at Mingyu then, and the look was cold, dismissive—a clear instruction to get out. “Tara, baba na tayo.”

Mingyu felt like dying. Wonwoo’s transition was so abrupt that it made his head spin.

“Mingyu,” tawag ni Wonwoo, his voice now cold and distant. “This is Jeonghan. My best friend. The one I told you about.”

As they stood there in the parking lot, pabalik-balik ang tingin ni Mingyu kina Jeonghan at Wonwoo. Jeonghan was everything Wonwoo described—and more. 

“So, you’re the creative genius behind this whole wedding arc?” Jeonghan smiled and it wasn’t just a polite social smile. It was warm, genuine, and made Mingyu feel like he was actually worth noticing. “Wonwoo mentioned how hardworking you are but he didn’t mention you were this talented. Ang ganda ng color palette na pinili niyo for the altar, bagay na bagay sa view ng lighthouse.”

Mingyu blinked, taken aback. His half finished creation was standing just a few feet away from them. “Ah, salamat... hindi pa actually yan tapos. And I’m just really following my client’s mood board.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Jeonghan laughed softly, reaching out to shake Mingyu’s hand. His grip was firm but gentle. “I saw some of your sketches on the table inside when I walked past earlier. You have a vision. It’s rare to find someone who puts this much soul into their work.”

Wonwoo, standing just a few feet away, shoved his hands into his pockets. He didn’t say a word, his jaw set, his eyes fixed on the horizon as if he was counting the seconds until he could leave.

“Pagod ka na ba from the drive?” Jeonghan continued, his tone shifting to something more considerate, his eyes scanning Mingyu’s face with genuine concern. “I noticed you look a bit tired. Madami ata kayong ginawa today eh. Sabi ni Wonwoo we can go out for a dinner as soon as I arrive kaya andito ako ngayon. Pero kung pagod ka na, okay lang naman sakin. We can just have coffee tomorrow. Baka kasi gusto mong magpahinga muna?”

Ang galing. Wonwoo was right. Everything about Jeonghan was… green flag—observant, kind, and instinctively helpful.

Mingyu felt his chest tighten. Ito ‘yun. Ito yung klase ng pag-aalaga na hindi mo kailangang hilingin o ipilit. It was natural. Jeonghan was the clear and blue sky he had been hoping the universe gave to him. 

“Okay lang ako,” Mingyu said, his voice softer than he intended. “Sanay naman ako sa ganito.”

“Are you sure? I’ll be staying here naman until the wedding, we’ll have time,” Jeonghan sincerely offered. 

Pero bago pa man makasagot si Mingyu, biglang nagsalita si Wonwoo. He was standing a few feet away, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his posture rigid.

“Hindi talaga siya pagod,” Wonwoo interrupted, his voice clipped and devoid of emotion.

Lumingon si Mingyu kay Wonwoo, nagtataka. Wonwoo wasn’t looking at him; he was looking straight at Jeonghan, his gaze steady and detached.

“Actually,” Wonwoo continued, his tone sounding almost... dismissive, “I booked a local restaurant near our homestay for dinner. Para sa inyong dalawa. You can get to know each other there. I’m sure you two will get along perfectly.”

Mingyu felt his breath hitch. Para siyang pinamimigay. Parang isang assignment na kailangan nang tapusin na, parang gamit na kailangang ibalik sa tunay na may-ari. Wonwoo wasn’t just suggesting dinner; he was handing him off, offloading him so he wouldn’t have to deal with the proximity, with the electricity, with the pain of being near him.

“Wonwoo, gusto mong sumama—” Mingyu started, his voice trembling.

“No, go,” Wonwoo insisted, turning his back on them as if the conversation was already finished. “I still have work to do. My portfolio won’t finish itself. Kayo na ang bahala.”

Iyon lang ‘yun. Mingyu stood there, stunned. The realization hit him like a physical blow to the stomach. Wonwoo didn't just want distance; he wanted to cut the cord entirely. He was pushing him into Jeonghan’s arms because that was the logical thing to do. That was the safe play.

Bitiwan mo na, Mingyu, he told himself, the sting of betrayal hot behind his eyes. Wonwoo is just a photographer. He’s just here for the deal. And apparently, he’s tired of paying the price for the connection.

He looked at Jeonghan, who was watching him with a soft, apologetic smile.

“Dinner?” Jeonghan asked, tilting his head. “If you’re still up for it?”

Mingyu felt a hollow sort of resignation settle into his bones. He took a deep breath, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes—a smile that was meant for the ideal match, the one who wasn’t currently walking away from him without a second glance.

“Sure,” Mingyu said, his voice flat. “Dinner sounds... logical.”

He refused to look at Wonwoo. He just walked toward Jeonghan, toward what was safe, toward the person who actually wanted to be there.

────୨ৎ────

Vulnerability was never in Wonwoo’s vocabulary, neither was jealousy. He was a man of focus—f-stop, shutter speed, light. He dealt in optics, not emotions. But standing here, three days before Xu Minghao and Wen Junhui’s wedding, he felt like his entire internal aperture was stuck wide open, letting in way too much light.

Hindi siya sanay sa ganito. Hindi siya sanay sa inggit. He was a man of logic, yet here he was, drowning in feelings he couldn’t even name.

Hindi naman ito yung pinlano niya. He was supposed to be a professional. He was supposed to capture the story, not live inside of it, and definitely not drown in the wreckage of someone else’s happiness. Pilit niyang kinukumbinsi ang sarili na trabaho lang ito—na ang bawat shutter click ay para sa kaniyang portfolio, para sa future niya. Pero bakit parang ang hirap huminga? 

For the past two days, Wonwoo had been a silent, unwilling observer of his own misery. He watched them everywhere. Yesterday, near the lighthouse, he saw Jeonghan helping Mingyu adjust a hanging floral arrangement. Their hands and shoulders touched as Mingyu tried to find the perfect spot for his roses. They were just working but it looked intimate, practiced, the kind of gesture that belonged to someone who knew the shape of Mingyu’s hands by heart.

Then at breakfast that morning, Wonwoo had watched from his table as Mingyu saved a seat for Jeonghan, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on him, lighting up in a way they never did when Wonwoo walked into a room. Hinahanap ng mga mata ni Mingyu si Jeonghan. Every time Mingyu laughed, his head tilted toward Jeonghan’s shoulder, a subconscious gravity pulling him in.

Bawat tingin nila sa isa’t isa, parang may kutsilyong humahawi sa dibdib ni Wonwoo. He had seen them whispering in corners, sharing earbuds, and Mingyu—the guy who was supposedly a confused client—was looking at Jeonghan with the kind of soft, unguarded devotion that Wonwoo had spent the last week trying, and failing, to elicit through his lens.

The good thing was Wonwoo could now - should be - focus on his actual paid job: shooting the wedding event.

The entourage had arrived today and the lighthouse homestay was now a chaotic blend of stylists, planners, and family. Even Seokmin, his usually calm assistant, was frantically running around, checking the lighting rigs for the pre-wedding dinner. Wonwoo adjusted his lens, his fingers moving with a mechanical precision that felt increasingly alien to him.

He had to capture the magic of this event. That was the job. He was here for the Tatler London portfolio—he needed images that screamed intimacy, raw connection, and the kind of love that brought peace like the sprawling hills and oceans of Batanes.

But every time he looked through his viewfinder, he saw Mingyu. And every time he saw Mingyu, he saw Jeonghan.

Jeonghan was perfect. It was infuriating. He was charming, attentive, and he listened to Mingyu like he was the only person in the world. He was the ideal partner on paper—the kind of guy who would make life easy, stable, and... logical.

Nakakaasar. Every time Jeonghan spoke, the room seemed to orbit around him. And Mingyu? He was right there, gravity-bound. Napakadali para sa kanila, ‘no? Watching them was like watching a movie where the ending was already written, and Wonwoo was just an extra standing in the background, holding a camera he didn’t even want to use anymore.

Wonwoo shifted his weight, his grip on the camera tightening until his knuckles turned white. He watched from the corner of the deck as they set up for the dinner hosted by the couple. Mingyu was laughing—a genuine, head-thrown-back kind of laugh—at something Jeonghan whispered.

“Wonwoo focus,” Seokmin nudged him, oblivious to the storm brewing behind Wonwoo's eyes. “Magbibigay na ng speech sina Minghao and Jun. Make sure you get the reaction shots.”

“I’m focusing,” Wonwoo muttered, his voice barely a rasp. Focusing on what? My own ruin?

He was focusing on how Mingyu leaned into Jeonghan’s space, the way he didn’t need to perform or style anything. The soul and magic Mingyu put into his work, the vulnerability he had shown Wonwoo in the car, was being directed at Jeonghan. It was like watching someone take the most beautiful piece of film he’d ever shot and hand it to someone else.

It’s just work, Wonwoo reminded himself. Kailangan mo ‘tong shots na ‘to. Professional ka dapat, Wonwoo.

At the center table, Minghao and Junhui stood up, holding their wine glasses. They looked at each other with an ease that made Wonwoo’s chest ache.

“We started as business partners, only talking about deals and projects.” Junhui said, his voice echoing over the quiet clinking of silverware. “Hao wasn’t even my type. I wanted someone who was predictable, someone who fit my plans.” He chuckled, glancing at his partner. “Pero as the saying goes, pagtinamaan ka, tinamaan ka. You don’t get a choice when it hits you.”

The room applauded, full of sweet awws and soft laughter. But Wonwoo didn’t look at the couple.

He looked at Mingyu.

Mingyu was staring at Jeonghan, eyes soft, his hand resting on the table inches away from Jeonghan’s. They were whispering again, completely ignoring the sentimental speeches. They looked like a finished puzzle—the pieces finally fitting into place.

Wonwoo felt a sharp, bitter tang of resentment rise in his throat. 

Sana ako na lang. The thought was so sudden, so violent, that he actually staggered back. He stared at his own hands, the hands that held the camera, the hands that had applied ointment to Mingyu’s wound just a few days ago.

He realized then that the professional distance he had tried to maintain was a lie. He hadn’t been documenting a client; he had been documenting his own undoing.

Pag tinamaan ka, tinamaan ka.

“Damn it,” Wonwoo cursed under his breath, his eyes stinging. He adjusted his lens, his vision blurring, not because of the light but because of the sharp, undeniable truth: he was the one who was hit. He was the one who was sinking. And the worst part? He was being paid to watch the man he loved fall for someone else.

────୨ৎ────

Enchanting floral arcs filled the lighthouse yard. But beneath the beauty, chaos was unfolding. The Batanes wind was proving to be a ruthless adversary, whipping through the carefully placed hydrangeas and eucalyptus. The staff were scrambling, covering the arrangements with tarps, their movements frantic as they tried to secure the setup for tomorrow’s sunrise wedding.

Mingyu bit his lip, his chest tight with guilt. He looked at Jeonghan, who was helping a staff member hammer down a loose stake, his hair mussed and his shirt clinging to his back from the humidity. They were supposed to be on a date today.

“I’m so sorry, Jeonghan,” Mingyu said for the fifth time that afternoon, wringing his hands. “We could have been hiking or checking out the café in town. Sayang yung araw mo dahil sa akin.”

Jeonghan just laughed, tossing the hammer to the side and wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. “Mingyu, chill. I’m having fun. It’s better than being bored in the hotel, right? Besides, I want to see this finish.”

He really was a dream guy. Serious about his life, respectful, but he knew how to play. He had this mischievous side that emerged right when Mingyu felt like he was about to lose it, and he always knew how to calm him down. Nagkakasundo sila sa halos lahat. They were a safe bet.

Unlike Wonwoo.

Mingyu’s eyes drifted toward the other side of the yard, where Wonwoo was working in silence. He was knee-deep in mud, wrestling with a stubborn piece of plywood, completely focused on the task. He didn’t say a word, just moved with a quiet, efficient intensity. Wonwoo was too focused on the task at hand to notice Mingyu was staring at him, but Jeonghan did.

Jeonghan followed Mingyu’s gaze, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “Si Wonwoo ba, hindi mo type?”

Mingyu blinked, startled by the directness of the question. He gave a dry, dismissive laugh. 

“Ha? No. We’re… we’re like oil and water, Jeonghan. Para kaming aso’t pusa.” He started counting on his fingers, almost too eagerly. “He’s too logical, too detached. He treats everything like a project, even life. Masyado siyang seryoso, and he has this need to control everything. Ang hirap niyang intindihin. He’s the complete opposite of me.”

As the words left his mouth, Mingyu felt a strange hollowness. He realized, with a sudden, sinking dread, that the things he found difficult about Wonwoo were the exact things that kept him awake at night—the things he secretly craved. The intensity. The way Wonwoo looked at the world, not just as it was, but as it could be. Yung mga bagay na kinaiinisan nito sa kanya, ‘yun din pala ang hinahanap-hanap niya.

Jeonghan looked at him fondly, his expression unreadable. 

“Minsan hindi ko din maintindihan yang best friend ko eh,” he said softly. “Sobrang stubborn sa mga plano sa buhay, but sometimes, he’s just waiting for the right person to give him a little push. Minsan, kailangan lang talaga ng tamang tao para matauhan.”

Before Mingyu could ask what he meant, the sky opened up.

It wasn’t just rain; it was a sudden, violent downpour. Biglang bumuhos ang malakas na ulan. The world turned grey in a heartbeat.

“Mingyu, tara na!” Jeonghan yelled over the roar of the wind, grabbing Mingyu’s arm. “Let’s go back to the homestay, it’s not safe here!”

“Yung mga bulaklak ko!” Mingyu panicked, looking at the altar area. The tarp he’d set up was flapping dangerously in the wind. “Yung altar, baka masira!”

He pulled away from Jeonghan and sprinted toward the altar, ignoring the mud sliding beneath his boots. He reached the structure, desperately trying to tie down the loose ends of the cover, his fingers numb and shaking.

He was losing the fight against the wind until he felt someone shove him aside—not unkindly, but firmly.

Wonwoo was there. He wasn’t looking at Mingyu, his face set in a grim line of concentration as he drove a metal stake deep into the wet ground, anchoring the tarp. They worked in tandem, wordlessly, shielding the fragile blooms from the deluge. The rain lashed at their skin, cold and stinging, but the space between them was electric, heavy with unspoken things.

Once the altar was secured, the tension didn’t dissipate. Wonwoo turned, his eyes dark, his hair plastered to his forehead. He didn’t offer a polite smile. Instead, he grabbed Mingyu’s arm with a grip that was almost bruising.

“Tara na,” Wonwoo commanded, his voice sharp, cutting through the sound of the rain. “Basang-basa ka na.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He hauled Mingyu toward the lighthouse, his strides long and urgent, as if protecting Mingyu from the storm was the only logical thing left to do in the world.

────୨ৎ────

Retreat.

Alam lagi ni Wonwoo kung kailan siya aatras. It was his survival mechanism—the wall he built around himself to ensure he never got burned. Pero sa loob ng lighthouse na ito, habang nakakulong sila sa gitna ng malakas na ulan, wala siyang mapupuntahan.

Mingyu was pacing, his silhouette frantic against the window pane. Panay ang silip nito sa labas, checking the arcs, his anxiety radiating like heat.

“Kalma lang, Mingyu,” Wonwoo said, his voice steady despite the hammer of his own heart. “Mukhang matibay naman yung mga gawa mo. It will hold.”

He hated seeing Mingyu this way—agitated, shivering, his wet clothes clinging to his skin. Wonwoo didn’t care about his own state; he was just as drenched, his hair dripping, his clothes heavy. He just needed to fix this. He needed to fix him. He scanned the room, finding a spare, thick table cloth tucked in a corner. He grabbed it, ignoring the cold bite of the rain on his own skin, and draped it over Mingyu’s shoulders.

The movement made Mingyu stop. The air in the room suddenly shifted, heavy and charged. Nang magtama ang mga mata nila, Wonwoo felt the walls he had carefully built start to crack.

“Bakit mo to ginagawa?” Mingyu asked, his voice low, barely a whisper that cut through the sound of the rain against the glass.

“Ginaganaw ka na eh,” Wonwoo replied, his tone calm, though his chest felt like it was caving in.

“Alam mong hindi yun ang ibig kong sabihin, Wonwoo.”

Mingyu closed his eyes, his fists clenching the fabric of the cloth. Wonwoo held his breath, watching the tremors in Mingyu’s jaw. When Mingyu opened his eyes, Wonwoo felt the floor drop out from under him. They were glassy, on the brim of tears—the rawest, most unguarded look he had ever seen.

“Ginugulo mo ko eh,” Mingyu said, his voice cracking.

“What do you mean?” Wonwoo managed to choke out.

“Dapat hindi ka mabait sakin. Lagi mo nga akong inaaway eh. Lagi mo kong inaasar. Lagi mo kong kinukunan ng pangit na angle.”

Mingyu started pacing again, his hands running through his hair in frustration. It was a chaotic, beautiful mess. “Dapat tinutulungan mo lang ako kasi may kailangan ka sakin. Kailangan mo lang makuha yung best shot para sa goal mong makapunta ng London. Diba, Wonwoo? Yun lang to? Yun lang ang meaning nito?”

Wonwoo wanted to lie. He wanted to say yes, that’s it. It would be so easy. It would be logical. But looking at Mingyu—seeing his world drenched in a storm that Wonwoo had single-handedly started—he couldn’t do it. The truth was stuck in his throat, burning.

“Dapat sa best friend mo ko ma-in love, Wonwoo eh,” Mingyu continued, his voice rising, thick with heartbreak. “Yun yung plano, diba?”

Wonwoo took a step forward, his hand twitching. Stop. Please, stop. Not because he didn’t want to hear it—God, he wanted to hear it every day of his life—but because he knew that if Mingyu kept talking, he would never be able to let him go. At kailangan niya itong bitawan.

“Pero bakit ganun, Wonwoo?” Mingyu stopped, his eyes searching Wonwoo’s face for an answer that wasn’t there. “Sayo ata ako nahulog eh. Sayo ata ako na-in love.”

Parang hinihintay lang ng langit ang pag-amin na yun. In a heartbeat, the torrential rain stopped. The deafening roar of the storm cut to a heavy, suffocating silence. The sky cleared, but Wonwoo’s mind was a chaotic blur.

He had to fix this. He had to set things right. Logical. Always logical.

“Naguguluhan ka lang, Mingyu,” Wonwoo said, his voice hard, almost desperate. “Madali kang ma-in love, ‘di ba? Sabi mo. Baka you’re just romanticizing things kasi halos lagi tayong magkasama eh.”

He saw the flicker of pain across Mingyu’s face. It was like watching his own heart break in real-time. Mingyu nodded slowly, a brittle, hollow motion. “Sabi ko na eh. Mali ako. Ako lang yung nahulog.”

Wonwoo almost reached for him. He wanted to take back every word, pull Mingyu into his arms, and tell him that he was the only thing that made sense in his world. But then, the heavy iron door of the lighthouse groaned open.

Jeonghan and Seokmin arrived, their umbrellas closed, their faces etched with relief.

The air in the room instantly vanished. The tension was palpable, thick enough to choke on. Mingyu didn’t look at Wonwoo again. He just turned, his expression masking the devastation he had just laid bare.

“Balik na tayo?” Mingyu said to Jeonghan, his voice steady, masking the tremor underneath.

Wonwoo stood frozen, his hand still half-raised in the air as he watched them. He watched Mingyu walk toward Jeonghan—the person who was safe, the person who made sense, the person who was the better match.

He watched them leave, two silhouettes walking away into the clearing weather. 

Perfect match, Wonwoo told himself, trying to believe his own lie as the silence of the lighthouse swallowed him whole. He’s better off without the storm.

────୨ৎ────

I shouldn’t have said that. Mingyu silently berated himself.

The Xu-Wen wedding was pure perfection. Ang mga rosas na maingat niyang inayos ay namumukadkad, matingkad at buhay na buhay sa kabila ng hagupit ng hangin kahapon. It was the kind of setup that would make any designer weep with pride, pero si Mingyu? Pakiramdam niya, he was a fraud.

He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to own it. He just wanted Wonwoo to finish his shoot so he could pack his bags, leave Batanes, and escape the gravitational pull of a man who had politely, logically, broken his heart yesterday.

Sana hindi na lang ako nagsalita. Umatras siya sa pinakamalayong sulok ng lighthouse yard, malayo sa tugtugan, malayo sa tawanan, at lalong malayo sa lalaking kasalukuyang kumukuha ng mga litrato ng magic na hindi na nararamdaman ni Mingyu. He found a small, quiet corner near the staff entrance where the signal was decent. Nanginginig ang mga kamay niya habang nilalabas ang kaniyang phone.

He needed clarity. Kailangan niya ng magpapaalala sa kanya na hindi siya nababaliw.

The screen flickered to life, showing Seungkwan and Vernon—the newlyweds—looking far too relaxed considering they were supposed to be on their honeymoon. Nang makita nila ang disheveled na itsura ni Mingyu, agad na nagbago ang mukha ng mga ito. Concern replaced their playful honeymoon glow.

“You know what,” Mingyu started, his voice barely a whisper against the distant melody of the wedding march. “I don’t know which is more difficult; learning to love someone who loves you, or hoping that the one you love will love you in return.”

Seungkwan sighed, leaning closer to the camera. “Gyu, please. You’re spiraling again.”

“Hindi ako nagi-spiral,” pagdepensa ni Mingyu, his eyes stinging. “But I think I’m self-destructing. Ang perfect ni Jeonghan for me. He’s safe. He’s consistent. He’s kind. But I’m such an idiot—sobrang tanga ko. I still let myself fall for Wonwoo. I think I’m destined to be that guy who always throws away the good ending just to chase a storm I know will drown me.”

Vernon stayed quiet, his gaze steady, letting Seungkwan take the lead.

“Look, Mingyu,” Seungkwan said, his tone shifting to that rare, serious pitch he used when he wasn't joking around. “Stop beating yourself up for feeling things. Stop punishing yourself for not wanting the perfect guy.”

“But he’s right there, Kwan, Noni," Mingyu gestured vaguely toward the reception area, where Wonwoo was currently adjusting his camera lens, looking professional and detached. “He’s the wrong guy. It’s a dead end. Bakit ba ang hirap maging logical gaya niya? Bakit ba ang hirap hirap ng love pag dating sakin? Gusto ko lang namang maikasal bago pa yang damned family curse namin. Gusto ko lang namang mainlove kagaya ng iba. At gusto ko lang naman mahalin pabalik. Mali ba yun? Mahirap ba yun?”

Seungkwan took a deep breath, looking at Vernon before turning back to the screen. “Gyu, listen to me. We’re married. We love each other. But we didn’t get here because we were looking for a match on paper.”

He paused, letting the weight of his final advice settle in the air between them.

“If you’re getting married, it’s because you want to get married and you love the person you are marrying; not because you need to get married.” Seungkwan watched Mingyu closely. “Stop looking for the person who makes sense, Gyu. Look for the person who makes you feel like you can breathe. Kung hindi si Jeonghan yun, then don’t force it just because it looks good on paper.”

Mingyu looked down at the grass, his thumb tracing the crack on his phone screen. “But what if the one who makes me breathe is the one who’s busy suffocating me with logic?”

“Then maybe,” Vernon finally chimed in, his voice soft, “you need to show him how to breathe, too.”

The call ended, leaving Mingyu in the suffocating silence of his corner. He looked up, and right across the yard, Wonwoo was suddenly looking in his direction. Their eyes met. Wonwoo didn’t smile, didn’t wave—he just looked at him with that same unreadable, intense gaze that had caused all of this in the first place.

Mingyu quickly turned away, his heart hammering against his ribs. Stupid, he thought. Just keep walking.

────୨ৎ────

Nodal point.

Iyon ang tawag sa photography kapag ang lahat ng linya ay nagtatagpo sa isang sentro. The perfect shot, the perfect balance. Tiningnan ni Wonwoo ang preview ng mga larawan sa camera screen niya—the altar, the bride, the golden hour light hitting the hydrangeas just right. He actually sent some sample photos to the Tatler editor earlier and he received a gushing reply about the ‘raw, soulful vulnerability’ captured in his frames. He found the perfect nodal point. He should be ecstatic. This was the career boost he had spent years crafting.

Pero bakit pakiramdam niya ay wala siyang napanalunan?

The wedding was winding down. Unti-unti nang umaalis ang mga bisita, nagliligpit na din ang ilang staff, at ang ingay ng selebrasyon kanina ay napalitan ng tunog ng pagbabaklas ng mga gamit. Wonwoo scanned the lighthouse’s yard, his eyes darting through the crowd, searching for a specific silhouette—a specific person. Mingyu.

He needed to see him. Not for the portfolio, not for the logical reason of discussing the project wrap-up. He just needed to know if the storm from yesterday had left any wreckage behind.

At nakita niya nga ito.

Mingyu was near the staff entrance but he wasn’t alone. Jeonghan was there, effortlessly charming, loading a suitcase into the trunk of a car. Kitang-kita ni Wonwoo ang pagtawa ni Mingyu—a laugh that looked genuine, light, and unburdened. The kind of laugh that hadn’t been directed at Wonwoo in a long time.

Parang may humigpit na kamay sa lalamunan ni Wonwoo. His breath hitched, his grip tightening on the heavy camera strap hanging around his neck.

“Looking for someone?”

Biglang sumulpot si Seokmin sa tabi niya. His arms were crossed while watching the same scene. Wonwoo stiffened, instantly shifting into his composed and unreadable self.

“Hindi ah,” Wonwoo lied, his voice flat. “Just checking the last few shots for the couple.”

“Pero ibang couple ata iniisip mo ah,” Seokmin didn’t buy it. Tumingin ito sa direksyon nina Mingyu at Jeonghan. “Dun na ata tutuloy si Mingyu sa hotel na tinutuluyan ni Jeonghan. May dala na siyang maleta oh.”

Kumunot ang noo ni Wonwoo, a flash of irritation breaking through his mask. “Pero paalis na tayo bukas. Why would he check out early?”

“Ah,” Seokmin shrugged, his tone casual but laced with something sharp. “Parang mag-i-stay pa ata sila for another day. You know, to celebrate. Or maybe to... ‘catch up’ properly without the pressure of the wedding.”

Wonwoo shouldn’t be bothered. Ito ang gusto niya, di ba? He wanted the safest path for everyone. Pero habang pinapanood niyang isara ni Jeonghan ang trunk at imbitahin si Mingyu sa passenger seat, para siyang may pinapanood ang isang pelikula na alam niyang na ang ending at hindi niya ito nagugustuhan.

Mingyu paused. For a split second, he looked back toward the lighthouse—toward the dark window where Wonwoo was standing. Their eyes didn’t meet but the distance between them felt as wide as the ocean surrounding them in Batanes. Then, Mingyu got into the car.

The engine roared to life and the vehicle pulled away, disappearing down the winding road, leaving the lighthouse in a sudden and suffocating silence.

Wonwoo didn’t move. He kept his eyes fixed on the empty space where the car had been, his heart beating a rhythm of regret that he couldn’t edit out.

He heard Seokmin sighing, a heavy empathetic sound of a friend who had seen enough. He reached out and tapped Wonwoo’s shoulder—a gesture that felt like a final sentence.

“Ikaw kasi eh,” Seokmin said, his voice quiet, lacking its usual humor. “Nasayo na... pinakawalan mo pa.”

Wonwoo stayed frozen. Hindi siya makapagsalita. He had chosen the right move. He had chosen the professional path. Pero sa pagitan ng mga camera clicks at sa pag-alis ng kotseng iyon, napagtanto niya: he had captured the perfect wedding but he had lost his own light in the process.

────୨ৎ────

Love should be easy.

Ito ang natutunan ni Mingyu sa kaniyang mga magulang. It was a simple equation he grew up watching: you meet, you click, you build, and you stay. Pero habang naglalakad sila ni Jeonghan sa isa sa mga viewpoints sa Batanes with the morning air crisp and golden, he realized he had been solving for x when his heart was clearly invested in y.

Jeonghan was being perfect. He was kind, he was funny, and he was everything that any yearners like him would fall for. Yet, Mingyu felt like a fraud. He was physically here, enjoying the view, but his mind was back at the lighthouse, rewinding every second he spent with Wonwoo.

Mingyu stopped walking, looking out at the endless blue horizon. “I’m sorry, Jeonghan,” he finally said, his voice quiet, heavy with guilt. “Sinubukan ko naman eh. I really tried.”

Jeonghan didn’t look offended. He didn’t even look disappointed. He just stopped, turned to Mingyu, and gave him a gentle, knowing smile. “I know.”

“Sana makahanap ka talaga ng taong makaka-appreciate kung gaano ka ka-perfect,” Mingyu added, wishing the earth would just swallow him whole. “You deserve that.”

Jeonghan’s smile softened, reaching his eyes, but there was a flicker of something else—wisdom, perhaps. “But you’re not looking for perfect, are you, Mingyu Kim?”

Mingyu hung his head, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. “Kaya lang, ayun... mukhang di naman ako gusto nung imperfect love ko.”

Hinayaan nilang balutin sila ng katahimikan pansumandali. Tanging ang hampas ng alon sa ibaba ang naririnig nila. Jeonghan seemed to be debating something within himself before he finally spoke.

“Alam mo,” Jeonghan started, his voice steady. “Nung sinabi sakin ni Wonwoo na may ipapakilala siya sa akin, hindi ako naniwala na alam niya talaga ang ginagawa niya. Reto? Matchmaking? That’s not Wonwoo’s thing. Napakacynical nun na tao eh. He picks apart every single thing, every single person. He always finds a flaw.”

Mingyu nodded, a sad smile on his face. “I know. He’s the king of finding the ‘logical’ reason to reject something.”

“Exactly,” Jeonghan agreed. “Pero you know why I got curious about you? Because of how Wonwoo talked about you.”

Mingyu froze, his heart skipping a beat. “Pinakita niya ba yung mga silly photos ko na kuha niya? Yung lagi akong naiiyak? Mukhang kawawa? Lagi akong nagye-yearn to be loved?”

Jeonghan shook his head. “Well, yeah, he did show me the photos. But... he didn’t describe them like that.”

Mingyu felt his breath hitch. “What do you mean?”

Jeonghan looked at him, his gaze intense. “Alam mo ang sabi ni Wonwoo? ‘Ito, Jeonghan o. Kita mo to? He believes this much in love. That despite how chaotic this world is, there is someone out there who believes in magic. In romance. In love. Nakaka-amaze, di ba?’ He said, ‘He’s a rare find, Jeonghan. Whoever it is that Mingyu chooses to love will be lucky. Because he’s gonna do that wholeheartedly. Buong-buo, no hesitation. He offers love that will never make you feel lonely.’”

Mingyu felt the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He tried to dissuade himself, to tell his heart to stop racing, to stop believing that Wonwoo saw him as anything more than a subject or a project. But Jeonghan’s words felt like a warm light piercing through the heavy fog he’d been living in.

“Sinabi niya talaga yun?” Mingyu whispered, his voice trembling.

Jeonghan nodded, putting a supportive hand on Mingyu’s shoulder. “He meant every word, Mingyu. Kaya kung ako sayo... wag kang titigil na maniwala sa magic of love. Because the person who sees you that way? That’s not a cynical man talking. That’s a man who’s terrified of how much he already loves you.”

Mingyu looked back toward the lighthouse, the view of the island suddenly looking different—brighter, clearer. The ache in his chest was still there, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like a dead end. It felt like a beginning.

────୨ৎ────

Once you’re in love, you’re in love.

Hindi naniniwala si Wonwoo dati rito. Sabi niya, control is everything. Dati, kaya niyang diktahan kung gaano lang siya kalalim mahuhulog, kung gaano lang kalapit ang pwede niyang ilapit. Pero habang nakaupo siya sa waiting area ng maliit na airport sa Basco, ramdam niya ang bigat sa dibdib niya na hindi kayang ayusin ng kahit anong logic. Tama pala si Mingyu. Ang tawag sa ginawa niya dati ay hindi pagmamahal; it was just a curated, safe version of an attachment.

Seokmin was beside him, rambling about the flight schedule and the upcoming weather disturbance but Wonwoo wasn’t listening. His mind was a loop of Mingyu’s laughter, Mingyu’s tears, and the empty space beside him.

“Boarding for flight 406 is now starting,” anunsyo ng speaker. “Last flight for the week due to expected weather disturbance.”

Inilibot ni Wonwoo ang paningin sa paligid. Wala si Mingyu. Of course, he wasn’t there. Malamang ay masaya na itong kasama ang perfect match niya. Wonwoo felt a bitter taste in his mouth. He was the one who pushed Mingyu away, the one who insisted on being logical, so why did the thought of them together make him want to scream?

He grabbed his camera bag, his knuckles turning white. He stood up, ready to board, ready to leave this place and the man who had effortlessly disrupted his perfectly ordered universe.

But then, he saw him.

Nakaupo sa isang sulok, nakayuko at nagbabasa ng magazine.

Jeonghan.

“Bakit ka nandito?” ani Wonwoo ng makalapit sa matalik na kaibigan.

Nag-angat ng tingin si Jeonghan, looking entirely too calm. “O, kasabay ko pala kayo?”

“Nasan si Mingyu?” he asked, trying to be patient as Jeonghan stood up painstakingly slow.

“Ah si Mingyu? Ayun iniwan ko-”
Wonwoo didn’t know what kind of demon possessed him, but in a split second, the usually composed photographer crossed the gap between them and gripped Jeonghan by the collar. He didn’t care about the people watching, the security, or the noise.

“Anong iniwan mo?” Wonwoo hissed, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and desperation. “Kaya nga ikaw ang nireto ko sa kanya kasi alam kong mapagkakatiwalaan ka! Alam kong kaya mo siyang alagaan! Tapos iiwan mo lang? Hindi deserve yun ni Mingyu!”

Jeonghan didn’t look scared. Instead, a small, mischievous smile played on his lips. “Eh ano bang deserve ni Mingyu sa tingin mo?”

Wonwoo’s hands slowly let go of the fabric but he didn’t pull away. He looked at Jeonghan with eyes that held the truth he had been hiding for so long.

“Mingyu deserves everything,” Wonwoo said, his voice raw. “Deserve niya yung success niya sa career kasi he’s hardworking. Alam mo bang handpicked lahat ng bulaklak na ginamit kahapon? Bawat detalye, mula sa centerpieces hanggang sa ultimo kulay ng dahon, pinag-isipan niya.”

Hindi na niya pinansin ang mga tao sa airport na nagsisimula nang tumingin sa kaniya. Wala na siyang pakialam.

“Mingyu deserves to be appreciated. Kasi kahit pagod na pagod yun, makikinig pa rin yun sa kwento mo. Tapos kahit anong sabihin ng iba na he’s too emotional or overdramatic, he actually holds a lot of wisdom that most of us couldn’t see because we’re too busy hating the world. I, too, hated how optimistic he could be. Pero yung positivity niya... it’s contagious. And so is his smile.”

Napapikit si Wonwoo. He could still see it, clear as day—Mingyu’s smile. A smile that no lens, no matter how expensive, could ever capture perfectly. “God, I missed that smile.”

Jeonghan chuckled, a low, knowing sound. “Eh kung miss mo na, bakit mo pinamigay?”

“Kasi deserve ni Mingyu mahalin ng tama!” Wonwoo snapped, anger rising like a tide. “Ng buong-buo! Ng mabibigay pabalik lahat ng pagmamahal na lagi niyang handang ialay! Mingyu deserves all the love in the world, and I wasn’t sure if I was enough to give him that!”

“At sa tingin mo, di mo talaga kayang ibigay yun sa akin?”

Wonwoo froze.

The voice was shaky, quiet, and impossibly familiar. He looked up, expecting his mind to be playing cruel tricks on him, but no—Mingyu was standing there, a few feet away, clutching a duffel bag.

His eyes were red-rimmed. He had heard it all.

Wonwoo looked at Jeonghan, who just shrugged as if he hadn’t just orchestrated the most heart-wrenching confrontation of Wonwoo’s life. “Hindi mo kasi ako pinatapos kanina, Wonwoo. Sabi ko, iniwan ko lang siya sandali kasi bumili pa ng tubig.”

Then he looked at Seokmin, who scratched his head sheepishly. “Hindi ko naman sinabi na hindi talaga sila kasama sa flight. Ang sabi ko ‘parang’. Not conclusive.”

They had played him. But as his gaze landed back on Mingyu, the anger and the embarrassment faded into a terrifying, singular focus.

“You shouldn’t have let me fall for you kung di mo naman pala kayang panindigan,” Mingyu said, his voice cracking. And then, he turned around and started to walk away.

“Sigurado ka bang di mo hahabulin?” Jeonghan urged, his voice no longer teasing but genuinely concerned. “Baka maiwan ng flight yun.”

Wonwoo didn’t say a word. He didn’t look back at Jeonghan or Seokmin. He dropped his heavy camera bag on the floor—the bag that contained his work, his logic, his protection—and he ran.

For the first time in his life, Wonwoo stopped acting as the observer. He stopped framing the world and started living in it. He chased the boy who held his heart and he didn’t care if he stumbled, as long as he caught him.

────୨ৎ────

Vanish.

Para kay Mingyu, iyon lang ang tanging gusto niyang mangyari sa oras na iyon. Ang maglaho. Ang mawala sa eksenang iyon kung saan naging tanga siya, kung saan naging maliwanag ang lahat ng pader ni Wonwoo—pader na kailanman ay hindi niya magigiba. He didn’t know where to go, he just walked. Malayo sa airport, malayo sa boses ni Wonwoo, malayo sa sakit.

He found himself standing at the edge of a cliff, a viewpoint overlooking the vast, churning Batanes sea. The wind was whipping his hair, howling against his ears, matching the chaos inside his chest. He was irritatingly exhausted. Pagod na siyang mag-isip, pagod na siyang maghintay. He had promised himself before going to the airport: pagbalik ng Manila, tapos na. Forget everything. Move on.

But the universe, as it always did, was playing a cruel trick on him.

“Mingyu!”

Napatigil siya. His heart hammered against his ribs, a violent, traitorous rhythm. He turned around, and there was Wonwoo. Humihingal, gulo ang buhok, and for the first time, the logical, composed photographer looked absolutely undone.

“Ano bang ginagawa mo dito?” Mingyu yelled, his voice cracking against the wind. “Di mo ko kayang mahalin, diba? Bakit mo pa ko sinundan?”

Wonwoo kept a distance, respecting the space, his chest heaving. “Maiiwan na tayo ng flight.”

“Bumalik ka na dun!” sigaw ni Mingyu, tears finally spilling over. “Please, Wonwoo. Leave.”

This was his last stand. If Wonwoo took one step closer, if he stayed a second longer, Mingyu knew he would lose the last ounce of his dignity. He would beg. He would plead. And he couldn’t let himself break that completely in front of the man who had already rejected him once.

But Wonwoo shook his head, his eyes burning with a raw, terrifying intensity. “No, Mingyu. Hindi ako aalis dito. If you want to stay here, I’ll stay with you.”

“Bakit?! Bakit pa?” Frustration clawed at Mingyu’s throat. “Hindi mo naman ako kayang mahalin, ‘di ba? You said it yourself!”

Wonwoo took one tentative step forward, then another. The distance was closing. “Mingyu, I almost lost you because I was stupid and a coward. I was afraid to love you.”

Mingyu watched him, his breath hitching. “And now?”

Wonwoo took the final step, the gap between them now small enough to feel the heat radiating from each other. “Now, I’m more afraid to lose you. Mahal kita, Mingyu.”

Mingyu wiped the tears from his face, his vision blurring. He waited, his heart standing still. “Why do you love me?”

Wonwoo sighed, looking up at the sky, then back at Mingyu, his expression vulnerable. 

“I don’t know.” He ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit Mingyu knew too well. “Maybe it was because of those things I said to Jeonghan. That you love wholeheartedly. You’re hardworking. You’re stubbornly romantic. But to be honest, I don’t know, Mingyu.”

“Hindi mo alam?” Mingyu tried to sound irritated, but his voice came out as a soft, trembling whisper.

“I don’t know. It just hit me.” Wonwoo’s eyes searched Mingyu’s face, tracing every feature like he was memorizing him. “Hindi ko alam kung kailan nagsimula. Baka nung una kitang nakita sa viewfinder ko na titig na titig sa bagong kasal, na parang ginagamit mo lahat ng hiling mo sa buhay para ma-experience ang love. Baka nung una tayong nag-away kasi nakasama accidentally sa carousel post ko yung kuha mo na mugto yung mata sa pag-iyak sa vows. Baka nung sinabi mo sa akin na one true love shouldn’t be consuming, pero ramdam ko ang bawat hibla ng pagkatao ko na nahuhulog na sa’yo.”

Wonwoo’s voice dropped, thick with emotion. “I don’t know when exactly it started, Mingyu. I just know I don’t want it to end. God, I didn’t even believe in forever. But I think I found forever in you.”

Mingyu was stunned. Someone as cynical and anti-romantic as Wonwoo, giving him the most breathtaking speech he had ever heard—and it wasn’t a script, it wasn’t a project, it wasn’t being told to someone else. It was for him. For the first time in his life, the universe wasn’t just testing him; it was gifting him the one thing he had been wishing for all along.

Pinili na niya ako.

“Mingyu, I’m not forcing myself on you, okay?” Wonwoo added, his voice low, filled with a sudden, anxious panic. “Don’t think that way. I just want to tell you... I just want to let you know that I love you, and I’m so sorry.”

A relieved laugh bubbled up from Mingyu’s chest—a sound of pure unadulterated release. He stepped forward, bridging the last inch between them.

“Wonwoo Lorenzo Jeon,” Mingyu said, his voice firm, grounding, and finally, finally happy. “You never say sorry for loving someone. And you never say sorry for loving me.”

Wonwoo didn’t wait. He didn’t need to ask. He reached out, cupping Mingyu’s face, and as the wind quieted around them, Wonwoo kissed him.

It was a kiss that tasted like Batanes rain, like newfound truths, and like the end of all the lonely, longing days. And Mingyu? Mingyu kissed him back, pouring every ounce of his love, his patience, and his heart into the man who had finally, against all odds, decided to stay.

────୨ৎ────

Epilogues were just for movies and books.

Sabi nila, life just continues. It doesn’t have a grand finale. Pero habang nakaupo si Mingyu sa dulo ng mahabang family table sa kanilang ancestral home sa Alabang, surrounded by the scent of roasted beef, the sound of his grandma’s laughter, and the steady, grounding presence of Wonwoo beside him, he realized life did have its finales. It had moments that felt exactly like the ending of a great romance, the kind that finally makes sense of all the chapters before it.

It’s been a month since Batanes. Nothing changed—Mingyu was still the same workaholic, Wonwoo was still the same logical, intense photographer—but at the same time, everything was different. The magazine feature about the Xu-Wen wedding had blown up, putting Mingyu on the map of wedding styling, but the biggest shift was Wonwoo. He didn’t push through with the London gig. He didn’t have to. He told Mingyu he realized that chasing the logical next thing wasn’t as fulfilling as chasing the person who made him want to stay.

“Clutch moment talaga ginawa mo Gyu sa pag break ng so called family curse mo no?” tukso ni Seungkwan, raising his glass, his hand linked with Vernon’s. “Who would have thought, di ba?”

Mingyu laughed, feeling the warmth of the room settle into his bones. Alam niya na ngayon, cursed or not, love really does find people at the right time.

Jihoon and Soonyoung were busy recounting stories from their US tour, while Jeonghan—who had become a regular fixture in their lives—was being playfully cornered by Mingyu’s cousin, Seungcheol, near the bar. Hindi talaga titigil si Cheol hangga’t di nakausap si Jeonghan ah, he thought, shaking his head. But it was nice. It felt full. It felt like he was surrounded by people who loved him in every form.

Then, Wonwoo nudged Mingyu’s arm, his eyes soft and uncharacteristically nervous. “Time for my gift, love.”

“Kinakabahan ako ah,” Mingyu teased, reaching for the large, heavy frame leaning against the wall, covered in simple brown wrapping paper. “Parang picture to, pero baka naman yung pangit ako ha? Yung naka-nganga ako o yung may food sa ngipin.”

Everyone laughed, the sound filling the room, but Wonwoo just smiled, his gaze fixed on the birthday celebrant. “Just open it, love.”

Mingyu started unpacking the wrap, his fingers trembling slightly. As the paper fell away, his breath caught in his throat.

It was a portrait. A large, beautifully framed shot of Mingyu. But it wasn’t an ugly shot. It wasn’t messy, nor was it compromising. It was just... Mingyu. He was smiling directly at the camera, surrounded by flowers he had handpicked in Batanes, the colors vibrant and alive. But it was the look in his eyes that stopped him. It was raw. It was exposed. It was the look of someone who had finally found home.

It was a look he was only ever giving to the person behind the lens. To Wonwoo.

“Love…” He looked up, his eyes already misty. He felt the heat rising to his cheeks, his heart swelling until it felt too big for his chest.

Wonwoo panicked, leaning in, his hands hovering over his shoulders. “Oh, wag kang umiyak, love. Gusto ko lang naman i-immortalize ‘tong moment na ‘to eh. Masyado kang in-love sa picture na yan, nakakahiya naman kung hindi ko ipapa-frame.”

The table erupted in laughter, and even he couldn’t help but chuckle through the tears. “Hindi lang in-love,” he whispered, reaching for his hand under the table, holding it tight. “In-love na in-love.”

Wonwoo smiled back at him—not the cynical smirk he used to have, but a genuine, wide, and terrifyingly beautiful smile. “Kaya mahal din kita eh.”

Mingyu had only dreamed of this magical moment before. He had spent so much of his life wishing, yearning, and searching for someone with whom he could simply be—someone who could handle his romance, his belief in magic, and his stubborn heart. He used to think he had to hunt for it.

But looking at Wonwoo, watching the way he looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered in this room, he realized he didn’t have to wish for anything anymore. 

He didn’t have to chase the magic. He was already living it.

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