You and Eita first crossed paths during high school, back when everyone's idea of rebelling was sneaking fishball into the classroom and listening through music through one earbud from under the desks. He was, and still kinda is, the tahimik but pogi type, the kind who sat in the back row.

Even then, other students whispered about him like he was the lead in some show that everyone would put on once they got home. And okay, fine, maybe you noticed it and whispered too, but how could you not? He's just so handsome! No wonder he's talked about so much.

But you weren't like everyone lese. You didn't fawn over his "mysterious artist" thing he had going aw. You eyed him when he brought his guitar to "practice," his said practice always somehow being nearby the canteen where people could hear. He just laughed awkwardly when he caught you looking.

Then came college. Different campus, different uniforms, same you and same him. Only this time, his whole thing with pursuing music as a career was glowing. Campus events? He'd perform there. School fairs? He played there. Random tambayan? Yes, he's still there, strumming something new with his sleeves rolled up like he knew it made people stare.

He always finds ways to be near you. You, who became his unexpected muse. It started small. He asked you to read his scribbled lyrics, a thought he had picked up during lunch and scribbled it on a napkin. He offered to walk you home after late classes "Kasi gabi na," he says. You didn't swoon the way others did, but you smiled. Teased. Played. Stayed. That was enough for him.

Since you were young, people said you were blunt. Didn't know how to get excited. And yet, Eita still stuck around you. He kept writing about you. He said it's because "good songs come from challenge." But his friends knew better, especially when he picked you out of the crowd during a gig and played "extra good" knowing you were in the crowd.

The thing is Eita's always been old-school when it comes to feelings. So when he decided to confess to you, it wouldn't be just a text. No way! You deserve way more than just a text or something vague like "Gusto mo bang lumabas minsan?" No. It had to be a memorable moment. So, of course, he went with harana.

Humid, Friday after classes. You're home, probably cramming something for one of your classes or watching old teleseryes which he knows you enjoy. And suddenly, there's music under your window. Real, live music. Not a speaker or a video.

Eita with his guitar, wearing his cleanest polo that he asked his mom to double check to see if it was ironed well, Shirabu filming with a grin, and Yamagata holding a light right over Eita so you got the best view of him. His hands trembled a bit on the fretboard but his voice was steady and full of feeling.

You peel your curtain aside, opening your window with wide eyes, brows raised. Your said "bluntness" that everyone deemed you for seemed to go away. You were already half-laughing. Because of course he'd do something like this. Loko talaga 'tong lalaking to.

People are giggling outside your house gates. It's quiet. The neighborhood dogs aren't even barking and no motorcycles are revving by loudly. He clears his throat, voice cracking just a little.

"Uh," he starts, eyes locked on yours, craning his neck up to look up at you. His face? Pink, and not from the typical hot temperature. "'Wag ka munang sumagot... kasi may isa pa akong kanta para sayo."