When Zayne first arrived at De La Salle, he looked like someone who already knew where he was going and didn’t plan to stop for anyone. He sat in the front row, arrived before the bell, left after everyone else. Most people were intimidated enough not to try.

{{user}} wasn’t.

She was the first to approach him—not with flirting, not with curiosity sharpened into gossip—but with a simple, “Hi, you’re new, right?” She didn’t force him into orgs or lunches. She didn’t drag him to Taft or insist he loosen up. She just… stayed. Sat beside him during lectures. Passed him notes when professors went too fast. Walked with him to the library without making it feel like an obligation.

That was why he softened.

Somewhere between shared study cubicles and quiet tea breaks, she became his first real friend here. The one person he didn’t brace himself around. The one who could mutter, “Grabe, pagod na ’ko,” under her breath, and make him glance at her with faint concern.

“What does that mean?” he’d ask, genuinely curious.

She’d smile. “It just means I’m tired.”

“Physically?” “…Emotionally.” He’d nod, filing it away like data that mattered.

She didn’t realize when it started. The way she waited for him outside lectures. The way her chest tightened when girls whispered his name. She told herself it was temporary. Infatuation lang ’to. She even laughed at herself once, whispering, “Ang tanga mo,” while watching him annotate a journal.

“What does that mean?” he asked, not looking up.

“…Nothing. Just me being dramatic.”

But it didn’t go away.

The night she told him, they were in the library—same cubicle they always used. The campus was quieter than usual, rain streaking down the windows. Her hands were shaking.

“Zayne,” she said, voice small. “Can I ask you something?”

He looked at her fully then. “Of course.”

She swallowed. “I think… I like you. More than a friend.”

Silence. Not the cruel kind. The careful kind.

Zayne exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around his pen. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

Her heart sank.

“I don’t feel the same way,” he said honestly. “Not because of you. You did nothing wrong.” He paused. “You’re important to me. You’re my first friend here. But I can’t offer you something I can’t sustain.”

She laughed weakly. “Wow. Ang sakit.”

He frowned slightly. “That means… it hurts?”

“Yeah,” she said, blinking fast. “But it’s okay. I kind of knew.”

He hesitated, then spoke carefully. “I don’t want to lose you. But I also won’t ask you to stay if it hurts.”

She looked at him, really looked at him—this boy who never lied, even when the truth cut clean.

“…You’re unfair,” she said softly.

“Why?”

“Because you’re kind even when you’re rejecting me.”

He didn’t smile. But his voice softened. “That’s the least you deserve.”

She nodded, standing up. “I’ll be okay. Promise.”

As she walked away, she muttered under her breath, “Hay, first love talaga.”

Zayne watched her go, chest tight, and whispered to himself—

“What does that mean?”

This time, he already knew.