#ningning fluff

the five of you were hanging out in the house after rehersals.

ningning was scrolling through tiktok, giselle was sitting on the floor, winter was stealing snacks from everybody, and karina was trying to watch a drama but nobody would shut up long enough for her to hear it.

you were sitting on the couch looking at your phone with a smile that immediately made giselle suspicious.

"why do you look like that?"

you looked up. "like what?"

"like you're about to start something."

"i'm not."

"yes you are."

everyone looked over.

you sat up a little. "okay, but don't freak out."

"that sentence never ends well," karina said.

you ignored her.

"i found one of you on tinder."

the room went completely silent.

winter looked up from her chips. "what?"

"i found one of you on tinder."

"who?" ningning asked immediately.

"i'm not saying."

"show us."

"no."

giselle pointed at winter. "it's her."

winter looked offended. "why me?"

"i don't know. it feels right."

"what does that even mean?"

"it just does."

"it's not me."

"that's exactly what someone with tinder would say."

"i don't even have tinder!"

you were trying so hard not to laugh.

karina narrowed her eyes. "wait, is it actually one of us?"

"maybe."

"that's not an answer."

"exactly."

now everyone was trying to look at your phone.

you pulled it away.

"no cheating."

"just show us," winter complained.

"guess."

ningning immediately pointed at giselle.

"it's definitely giselle."

"why am i always the first suspect?"

"because i said so."

"that's not a reason."

"it's enough of a reason."

giselle rolled her eyes.

while they argued, winter suddenly lunged for your phone.

"hey!"

she grabbed it before you could move away.

"got it."

"winter!"

everyone crowded around her.

winter looked at the screen.

then she blinked.

then she looked at you.

"...seriously?"

ningning was already laughing.

"what is it?"

winter turned the phone around.

on the screen was a tinder profile named winter.

except it wasn't winter.

it was literally a golden retriever.

a golden retriever wearing sunglasses.

giselle lost it immediately.

karina nearly dropped her phone laughing.

ningning fell backwards onto the floor.

winter stared at all of you.

"that's not funny."

"that's literally you," ningning said.

"how?"

"look at the picture."

"it's a dog."

"exactly."

winter threw a chip at her.

ningning laughed even harder.

you were crying from laughing at this point.

"read the bio."

karina cleared her throat dramatically.

"'likes food, attention, and bothering people for no reason.'"

the room exploded again.

winter covered her face.

"you all suck."

"look me in the eye and tell me that isn't accurate," giselle said.

winter opened her mouth.

then closed it.

"okay, maybe a little."

"a little?" karina repeated.

"a lot," ningning corrected.

winter grabbed a pillow and threw it at all of you.

it missed completely.

you gulp, not knowing what to do. you barely have enough energy to walk. alas, you step into the drawing room, each step feeling heavier than the last as you make your way to your shared bedroom, hoping that she is there.

you knock on the door and your hand pushes the door open to see yizhou scrolling on her phone, face uncaring but aura screaming i am so mad right now i might kill someone.

she’s wearing a black dress that highlights her curves just right, her hair perfectly falls over her shoulders and her makeup is immaculate. she looks absolutely breathtaking.

it hurts seeing how you wasted the time and effort she spent getting ready. without looking up, she says, “look who finally remembered they have a home.”

her ice cold mocking tone makes your throat dry up. you walk forward, now infront of her, “i’m sorry.” you apologize sincerely. it seems to have set her off though, “that’s all you got? a plain i’m sorry ?”

your patience already clocked out from your soul for the day hours ago, yet you still try to make it work from home, “i was very busy, yizhou. i haven’t even eaten a single proper meal today.”

your reasoning falls on deaf ears, “so? you told me you were going to come back by six. it’s twelve right now.” she stands up, frows deeply furrowed.

normally, she is very considerate; but the fury swirling in her from having spent two hours dolling herself up for you, just for it all to go in vain is enough for her to stop considering entirely.

the thread of patience you summoned is on the verge of breaking, “can we not do this, yizhou? i’m very tired.” she scoffs, “right, you’re the victim. i’m a villain and annoying you, aren’t i?”

the sarcasm in her voice and the sharp bite in her words slices the thread of your patience, “that isn’t what i’m trying to say, and you know that.” your voice is harsher than it sounded in your mind.

“no, i infact don’t. and somethings don’t need to be said out loud to be understood.” her voice raises in amplitude too. “yizhou, i said i’m sorry, can we discuss this like adults tommorow or are you still dead-set on being childish?”

her eyes flash with hurt, however your judgement is fogged by tiredness that lets it go unnoticed. “so, i’m being childish ?” your jaw is clenched so tight it hurts and your nails form cresent indents on the skin of your palm because of your balled up fists.

“you’re being immature.” the three worded statement turns yizhou’s fury into sadness. your mind that was fogged by anger clears up when you hear her response, “really, y/n?” her voice cracks in a way that it replays in your mind long after it happens.

it is then you see a glossy sheen on her eyes and realize you’ve gone too far. your anger burns out and the guilt of making her eyes tear up sets in deep into your bones.

you immediately pull her into a hug, wrapping your arms around her, grip tight as if she would dissappear if you didn’t hold her tight enough. her hand stays at her side.

her hands stay locked at her side, clenched hard as if she’s actively restraining herself from giving in and hugging you back. you pull away to cup her cheeks, making her look up at you.

your heart breaks in an uncountable amount of pieces at her glossy eyes. “i’m so sorry. i should’ve kept to my word, i shouldn’t have ghosted you, i should’ve taken you out on our fancy dinner.” the words tumble out quickly.

you take a deep breath, “but i didn’t, and i’m very apologetic for it. i promise we’ll go tomorrow, and it won’t be just a dinner, it’ll be us, for the entire day going at different places, taking pictures, laughing and having a good time.”

yizhou grumbles, “entire day? so, no work? are you sure?” your thumb comes up to wipe a tear that trailed down her cheek, “as sure as can be. gonna give my love the date she deserves.”

she looks away, humming as if she was pondering the offer, “sure.” she says, a small smile taking place on her face. your face erupts in a wide grin as relief washes over you.

you don’t waste a second, hurriedly attacking her lips with yours like you were a starved woman— which you were, you were running off of a granola bar and a dark coffee.

she reciprocates, hands curling around your neck, fingers entangling in your hair. your hands land on her hips, possessive and claiming in the way you know she loves.

when you pull back, she hits you with a soft punch, making you wince, “for wasting my night.” you still look at her like she hung the moon, “will you kiss me tomorrow for making your day amazing?”

a cheeky smile is on your face and your head’s tilted. yizhou scoffs, rolling her eyes playfully, “depends on how amazing. you’re not getting off the hook so easily, kim.”

your smile stretches even more, somehow, “well, i have a history of scoring first and winning. be prepared for a date so perfectly crafted you’ll fall in love all over again, ning.”

before she can pass another teasing retort, your tummy grumbles and yizhou sighs, “so, you really didn’t eat anything today?” you meekly nod, an embarrassed coating of blush staining your cheeks.

she shakes her head dossaprovingly, muttering something along the lines of this stupid and careless baby and she pulls you by the arm towards the kitchen.

you smile a truly giddy smile, because who doesn’t love getting scolded by their girlfriend for having a fucked up schedule while they look at them with heart eyes? most people don’t but you do, very much.

god, you’re so awfully, tragically, horrendously down bad for ning yizhou.

𝓚𝑰𝑹𝑨'𝑺 𝙎𝒊𝙂𝓝𝘼𝙇 ( ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ) WHOOOOOOO LAST FLUFF GG FIC WHATTTTTT it's already been a week of February and IVE POSTED 7 FICS???? Even if I'm a day behind, the fact that I'm actually pulling through ????? PLS APPLAUD I NEED A EGO BOOSTTTTT ++ hint for tmrw's fic — desi tour guide..... GASP GASP THE SUSPENSE GOES CRAZY !!!

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ regulars! @woniefication @shyoko @yooniso

The tricycle outside was already honking like it had a personal grudge against your household. The neighbor’s dog was barking again. And you had exactly 18 minutes to shower, dress, and pray your uniform shirt was dry from last night’s sampayan.

It wasn’t.

But whatever. You wore it anyway.

You didn’t eat breakfast — you just grabbed a cold pandesal and downed the last packet of powdered coffee from the tin can. It wasn’t much, but it was better than showing up to class with your stomach performing a live percussion solo.

Wallet check: ₱52. Gcash: ₱18.71. Hope: hanging by a thread.

Still, you made it.

You always did.

The jeep ride to PUP was its own kind of hell.

You clung to the metal handlebar like it was your last lifeline as the driver sped through Sta. Mesa like he was auditioning for Fast and Furious: Manila Drift. You were squished between a sleeping man and someone’s elbow poking into your ribs. The sun was barely up, but the city was already sweating.

Still, you made it. Bag check. ID check. Security guard gave you a little nod.

“Uy, Y/N,” one of your blockmates called, catching up beside you. “Kumain ka na?”

“Tubig lang,” you muttered.

He laughed. You didn’t.

You sat through three straight lectures. The chair creaked every time you leaned back, and the electric fan above your head only worked when the wind outside was feeling generous. Someone was blasting TikTok audio in the hallway again.

But you focused. Took notes. Answered when called.

Because if there was one thing you promised yourself — it was this:

You were gonna make it out of here. Not to prove anyone wrong. But to prove yourself right.

You didn't need luxury. Or name brands. Or validation.

You just needed enough time. Enough willpower. Enough luck to stretch your baon until Friday.

It was past 5PM — golden hour, but Sta. Mesa didn’t care.

The sun dipped lazily behind smoke-stained buildings, casting everything in that familiar orange haze. The scent of isaw, exhaust fumes, and overpriced coffee floated through the air, and half your block was already outside the main gate waiting for a ride or just pretending to study.

You were one of them — sitting on the low cement ledge near the guard post, legs tired, GCash at ₱3.19. You were about to text your mom that you’d just walk home to save money, when a sound cut through the noise.

Vrrrrooooom.

Low. Smooth. Not tricycle. Not jeep.

Everyone turned.

And that’s when you saw it.

A white Porsche — clean, glossy, tinted like a celebrity car — slowed to a stop just outside the campus gate. The engine purred like it didn’t belong here, and it didn’t.

Nobody said anything at first.

Then:

“Bro… is that a Grab?” “Putek, 'di yan Grab, tanga.” “Bat may sports car dito?”

Your eyes stayed fixed on the window.

And then it rolled down.

She looked… effortless.

Long straight hair tucked behind Chanel shades, gold hoops peeking through, glossy lips wrapped around a straw from her ₱280 coffee. She was wearing a cropped white polo and green slacks — La Salle uniform. Her lanyard was hanging from the rearview mirror like it knew it was flexing.

She was on her phone, laughing at something — and then, out of nowhere, she glanced toward the crowd.

Right at you.

Your heart stopped for no reason.

You looked away instantly, pretending to check your phone that had no data.

Then she honked.

Not aggressively — just one soft, almost playful beep.

People whispered.

"Nagpapasundo ba siya?" “Siguro boyfriend niya taga rito?” “Luh, kung sino man yun, jackpot.”

She didn’t say anything.

Didn’t call out a name. Didn’t wave. Didn’t even react when people kept staring.

She just sipped her coffee. Checked her nails.

Waited.

Then slowly, with surgical confidence, she pushed open her door — heels clicking against the concrete — and stepped out like a Vogue ad decided to walk into your barangay.

And that’s when it hit you.

This wasn’t a Grab.

This was Ningning.

Over the few weeks.

The white Porsche became a regular thing.

At first, people thought it was a one-time fluke. Maybe someone got lost. Maybe a rich cousin doing a favor. But no — three days later, it was there again. Same time. Same spot. Same girl.

Ningning.

No one knew her name at first, of course. Just that she was from La Salle — DLSU Conyo Queen, as people started calling her in hushed tones and group chats.

She’d park by the gate. Window down. Music low. Always in designer sunglasses, always sipping something that probably cost more than your whole meal for the day. She didn’t speak to anyone. Didn’t ask for directions. Just… waited.

And always, at some point, her eyes would sweep through the crowd like she was looking for something.

Or someone.

Your blockmate leaned over one afternoon and elbowed you.

“Bro,” he whispered, “bakit parang sayo siya nakatingin?”

You waved him off. “Hindi sa’kin ‘yan. Baka sa likod.”

But you knew there was nothing behind you except a faded canteen poster and a jeep terminal.

It became a thing.

The La Salle Girl Watch.

Even profs started noticing.

“Hoy, sino yung may sugar mommy sa inyo, ha?” one joked, making the whole class laugh while you just stared at your paper and tried to pretend your ears weren’t burning.

People threw out theories:

She was picking up a secret boyfriend.

She was the ex of a prof.

She was just lost, but too proud to ask for help.

She was rich enough to be weird, and this was her hobby.

But deep down, you knew the truth was simpler.

She knew someone here.

And every day she came back — she kept choosing not to say who.

One day, you stayed late for org work and missed the usual 5PM routine. You walked past the gate at almost 7PM, tired and half-starving, just planning to ride home and sleep.

But the car was still there.

No headlights. No music.

Just her.

Sitting behind the wheel, hair tied in a messy bun now, glasses swapped out for her bare face. She wasn’t sipping coffee or scrolling her phone.

She was just… there.

And for the first time, she looked tired too.

Then she saw you.

This time, she didn’t look away.

She just held your gaze — a beat too long. Like she was about to say something.

But then she turned the key.

Engine on.

And drove off.

You didn’t know why your chest felt heavy.

But you had a feeling…

THE NEXT DAY

It was 8:37 PM.

The multipurpose room smelled like sweat, markers, and cheap pancit canton. You were sweeping the last of the confetti off the floor after your org’s monthly open mic event — half of which you ran, the other half you tolerated.

You were dead tired. Your back ached. Your GCash balance was currently ₱0.57. And to top it off, the janitor forgot his keys again, so you had to wait for him before you could lock up.

That’s when you heard the knock.

Not from the door. From the window.

You turned.

And there she was.

Ningning.

Still wearing green. Hair in a sleek ponytail. Leaning slightly against the frame like she belonged in a shampoo commercial. She looked… out of place. But completely unbothered by it.

You blinked.

She pointed at the door with her perfectly manicured finger. “Open. I don’t like windows.”

You opened it. Confused. A little wary.

She stepped inside like she owned the room.

“Okay, so like… I’m not into long intros or anything,” she began, brushing a strand of hair back. “But I need a boyfriend.”

You just stared.

“…Huh?”

She rolled her eyes, but not cruelly — more like she didn’t want to explain twice. “My family’s visiting from abroad next week. They think I have a serious relationship already. Long story. My cousin got engaged, and my mom suddenly decided she wants me to settle down too.”

You blinked again.

“I’m twenty,” she added flatly. “Gross.”

“…So what does this have to do with me?” you asked, still holding the broom like it could protect you from this fever dream.

She took a deep breath.

“I need someone believable,” she said. “Not a La Sallian boy na may daddy issues and wears vape as cologne. Someone… lowkey.”

She looked at you dead in the eyes.

“You. You’re so normal. Like — ridiculously normal. You take the jeep. You have holes in your socks. Your baon is probably packed by your nanay.”

You opened your mouth to object. Then closed it. Because, well. She wasn’t wrong.

She stepped forward, arms crossed.

“Here’s the deal. Be my boyfriend. For a week. Just for family dinner, a few photos, maybe a lunch date. I’ll compensate. Like, hindi ako manggagamit ha — I’ll give you ₱5,000. G.”

You swallowed.

“…₱5,000?”

“Each day.”

You almost dropped the broom.

“I just need you to look convincing,” she said. “And maybe—like—hold my hand and pretend we’re gross in front of my tita.”

You stared at her.

She looked back.

Then added: “Don’t fall in love with me, ha?”

And somehow, that was the first sentence that made your stomach flip.

It was just a regular Thursday.

You wore your usual PUP uniform — half-ironed polo, faded pants, shoes that had seen better days. Your bag felt like a boulder. Your mind felt heavier. Finals were coming, and your GCash had the emotional weight of a breakup.

The heat was insane. The line for tricycles was a war zone. You were about to give up and just walk home again.

Then came the sound.

Vrrrroooooom.

Clean. Refined. Not a jeep. Not a tricycle.

You already knew.

Heads turned like synchronized swimmers.

The white Porsche slowed to a stop outside the campus gate, smooth like it belonged in a music video. The windows were slightly tinted, but not enough to hide her.

Ningning.

Wearing a cropped tee, high-waisted jeans, heels that screamed "I don’t walk, I glide." Her oversized designer shades were perched on her head, glossy lips wrapped around her iced latte straw. She looked like a page torn out of a fashion magazine and dropped straight into Sta. Mesa.

Then she yelled — loud enough for the entire block to hear:

“LOVEEEEEEEE!!” (“BABE!!”)

Silence.

You, frozen.

“Love, sakay na! Ang init noh??” (“Babe, get in! It’s sooo hot, right??”) “I’m double parked pa, baka pagalitan ako ni Kuya driver ko!” (“I’m double parked, the driver might scold me!”)

Spoiler: she didn’t have a driver. She was the driver.

You stood there, disbelief on your face, as everyone — and I mean everyone — turned to look at you.

“Is she talking to him?” (“Dude... what?”) “That’s not a Grab, bro.” “Putek, jowa niya talaga si PUP boy?”

You could hear your blockmates losing their collective minds.

“Bro, kung sa kanya ka nga sinisigawan ng 'love’... bakit hindi mo pa sinasagot sa GC?” (“If she calls you ‘love’… why can’t you reply in the group chat?”)

And she did it again.

“Y/N! Bilis, babe, I’ll buy you milk tea pa oh!” (“Y/N! Hurry, babe, I’ll even buy you milk tea!”)

You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

But instead, you walked. Slowly. Like it was your funeral.

“Putangina, si Y/N pala talaga.” (“Holy sht, it really is Y/N.”)* “Manifesting my own DLSU girlfriend as we speak.” “Wait ‘til Twitter hears about this.”

You reached the passenger side. She leaned over, popped the door, and gave you that smile.

“Hey, babe,” she said sweetly. (“Hey, babe.”) “Missed you.”

You got in. Closed the door. And just like that — you disappeared into the sweet-smelling, air-conditioned, ₱5M worth of gossip fuel.

From PUP boy to Porsche passenger. In full view of the campus.

And she didn’t even need to explain a thing.

After shuting the passenger door behind you with a soft thunk, and letting the cold AC hit your face like a reward for surviving the most embarrassing 10 minutes of your life.

You adjusted your seat belt, still half-processing the trauma of Ningning yelling “LOVEEEE!!” in front of your entire university. Students. Guards. Stray cats. Everyone.

“You didn’t have to scream like that,” you muttered, fidgeting with the lock like it was your first time in a car this expensive.

She leaned back against the leather seat, smug smile already locked and loaded.

“It’s called commitment to the role, dumbass.” “Believability is everything. You think I half-ass my fake relationships? No. I serve.”

You looked down at the center console, still confused.

“Why does this car only have two doors?”

“Because it’s a sports car, babe. You think I’d pick you up in a Toyota Wigo?”

She rolled her eyes dramatically, and then — without warning — reached out and grabbed your hand.

Not gently. Not romantically. Like it was a business deal sealed by skin-to-skin contact.

“Anyways,” she said, palm pressing against yours, her nails cool to the touch, “welcome to your first of many days… with me.”

You blinked.

“…Yeah,” you said, voice quieter than you meant. “Let’s just get this over with.”

But her grip didn’t loosen.

“Right,” she said, smiling with just enough softness to make you question if this was still just acting. “Just one week. What could possibly go wrong?”

“Rule number one,” Ningning said, adjusting her Louis Vuitton shoulder bag like it was part of her anatomy, “don’t gawk.”

You were already gawking.

To be fair, this was Greenbelt 5. You didn’t even know there was a 4, let alone five. The floor tiles were shinier than your future, and the escalator had glass railings like a spaceship. There were no street vendors, no hotdog carts, not even a Kultura corner.

Just cold air, chandeliers, and judgmental rich people.

And all of them?

Looking at you.

Because beside you was her.

Ningning. Hair in soft waves. Skirt that swayed when she walked. Top that probably cost your tuition. And heels that sounded like mini thunderclaps across the marble.

She was holding your arm. Touching you. Like you were someone.

Everyone noticed.

Old women glanced. Frat boys stared. Salesladies side-eyed. You swore one whispered:

“Must be her driver.” (“Ay, baka driver.”)

But Ningning? Didn’t flinch.

She walked like you belonged next to her — no explanation, no apology.

And that messed you up more than anything.

Inside the café, she ordered with ease.

“Two matcha lattes, less sweet, oat milk — and can you serve it with the espresso on the side? I hate pag pinaghahalo nila agad.”

The cashier nodded like she was royalty.

You? You blinked at the prices.

₱295 for a drink. That’s seven jeep rides. Or two meals. Or— “Babe, swipe your card.”

You looked up.

“...Huh?”

She leaned in, whispering.

“This is part of the act, okay? You’re supposed to act like you can afford this.”

You swallowed.

“But I can’t afford this.”

She smiled sweetly.

“Good thing I can. Now swipe, pogi.”

At the table, she did a full evaluation.

“Okay,” she started, “we need to fix your walk. You don’t walk with confidence, you walk like someone just shouted ‘cut!’ on a teleserye taping.”

You just nodded, sipping the ₱295 latte like it didn’t taste like regret and grass.

“Also,” she said, pointing, “you can’t keep wearing those shoes. The sole’s literally opening. What if my mom sees that? She’ll think I’m dating a fishball vendor.”

“...Anong masama sa fishball?”

She laughed.

Not the sarcastic conyo laugh you expected.

But a real one.

And suddenly… you weren’t just surviving the act anymore.

You were enjoying it.

Until she said:

“We’ll need to take couple photos later. My mom’s already asking for updates.” “We’ll go to Wildflour or something. It looks... Instagrammable.”

You blinked again.

“Wait, she doesn’t know we’re fake?”

Ningning smiled.

Then stirred her latte.

“Of course not.”

Outside, another stare. Another whisper. Another slow head-turn as Ningning held your hand in front of everyone like she’d done it for years.

“Look up,” she whispered. “You’re with me now.”

THE NEXT DAY

You weren’t late today.

Nope. You were early.

Which was weird, because usually you were ten minutes late and pretending you had a nosebleed excuse. But today you were twenty minutes early… and still five minutes too late for the gossip storm you walked into.

You stepped through the campus gate, and immediately—

Eyes.

Everywhere.

Like your arrival was the event of the day.

People nudged each other. Whispers. Phones. TikToks probably being filmed in secret. Even Mang Nestor at the fishball cart gave you a knowing nod like you’d just graduated with honors.

“Bro, bro, that’s him diba?” “’Yun ‘yun eh! Yung sinigawan ng ‘LOVEEE!!’ tapos sumakay sa white Porsche!” “Tangina… jackpot.”

Even the guards joined in.

“Y/N, pwedeng pa-picture?” “Pampabwenas lang, baka may masundo rin akong taga-Miriam.”

You tried to laugh it off.

But the minute you entered the classroom—

Chaos.

Your blockmates stood up.

One dramatically reenacted the entire mall scene like it was a teleserye:

“LOVEEEEEE!!!” he screamed, running in slow motion toward the whiteboard while pretending to hold an iced latte.

Another grabbed a rag, pretending it was a Hermes purse.

“Wait lang babe, I’ll open the Porsche door for you!” “OMG, don’t forget to wave at the commoners!”

The class lost it.

Even your professor paused mid-roll call just to smirk and say:

“Y/N? Present ka ba or busy ka pa sa Greenbelt?”

You facepalmed so hard it echoed.

“Pwede ba,” you groaned. “It’s not even that serious.”

“NOT THAT SERIOUS?!” your seatmate gasped. “My guy, you got collected like a limited edition figure. Do you know how many boys were crying in the group chat last night?!”

“Pinag-uusapan ka sa confessions page, bro!” “Someone said, ‘May boyfriend na pala si Ningning, aray.’”

You sank deeper into your chair.

This was your life now.

Famous. Accidentally.

Then your phone buzzed.

Ningning (💸🫀):

“Lunch later. Wear something I won’t burn. Mwah.”

You stared at the screen.

And sighed.

Here we go again.

It was lunch break, and you were already sweating.

Not from the heat — but from the anticipation. Because if yesterday was wild, today was about to make headlines again.

You kept your head down while walking toward the gate. Your classmates followed like ducklings, trying to play it cool but failing miserably.

“Bro, what if she shows up again?” “Di ka na pwedeng makipag-break ‘no. Sayang Porsche.” “Sana all may sugar mom— este, girlfriend.”

Then — you heard it.

Vrrrrrmmmm. But not the same vroom as yesterday.

Nope. This was deeper. Meaner. A little richer.

Heads turned like it was a K-pop comeback.

And there it was:

A matte black Mercedes-AMG G-Class.

Blacked-out rims. Custom plate. Tinted windows that screamed “this vehicle has never touched EDSA.”

“TANGINA!” “WHAT THE F— IS THAT?!” “Bro. Bro. Is that HER again??”

Then the door opened.

Ningning stepped out. New outfit. All white, effortless, expensive. Oversized sunglasses. A Nike duffel slung over her shoulder like she was either going to the gym or buying it.

She looked around, spotted you instantly, and did the one thing you feared:

“LOVEEEEEEE!!!” “Babe! Bilis na, I’m hungry!”

Your classmates collapsed in disbelief.

“She changed cars??” “She CHANGED BRANDS??” “Is he a senator’s son??”

You walked toward her like a man approaching judgment day. Then you saw it:

She held up the Nike bag, shook it once, and smirked.

“Here. Size 11 right?” “I noticed your shoes were crying.”

You opened the bag.

Brand new Dunks.

You were speechless.

“You bought me shoes?”

“No, I adopted them. You just get to wear them.”

She winked and tossed you the keys.

“Now drive.”

“Huh—what?? I can’t—”

“Relax, babe. Just kidding. You really think I’m letting ₱14 million get scratched by you?”

Everyone watched.

You got in. Again.

Different car. Same girl. Even crazier scene.

Your classmates? They didn’t even pretend to be cool anymore.

“He’s not real.” “That man is living the Wattpad dream.” “If this turns out to be a prank show, I’m suing.”

The car ride was quieter this time.

Maybe because you were still processing the Dunks. Or the fact that she didn’t even flinch paying for parking with a black card. Or maybe… it was because her hand brushed against yours again while adjusting the GPS.

You pretended not to notice. She pretended not to care.

But there was something in the air.

The café was somewhere you’d only seen on influencer vlogs — tall glass windows, minimalist interiors, plants that probably had better skincare routines than you, and a scent that screamed: “we do not serve sawsawan here.”

You hesitated at the door.

“You sure I’m allowed in here?” you whispered. “My existence might bring the aesthetic down.”

She gave you a look.

“You’re with me. That makes you pre-approved, babe.”

Inside, the host immediately smiled like he recognized royalty.

“Ah, Miss Ningning. Your usual table?”

“Yes please. Oh, and we’re sharing today.”

You blinked.

“Sharing?”

“Yep. One of the three things I actually like doing in a relationship.”

The menus were thick. The prices were thicker.

₱1,300 for grilled salmon. ₱800 for truffle fries. ₱450 for sparkling water. And a dish simply called “Rice” — for ₱1,100.

You stared at it.

“Babe,” you whispered. “This rice better sing and dance for me.”

She laughed.

“Shh. People here tip in euros.”

The food arrived. Fancy. Intimidating. Delicious, probably.

She took a photo. You watched her.

Then she put her phone down.

“So,” she said casually, slicing into her ₱2,000 salad, “How’s fake dating me so far?”

You blinked, mouth full of gold-leaf-adorned shrimp.

“Uh… weird. Public. Confusing.”

She raised a brow.

“No fun? Not even a little?”

You met her gaze. It lingered.

“It’s fun,” you admitted. “Just… hard to tell what’s part of the act sometimes.”

Her fork stopped mid-air. Just for a beat.

Then she smiled — but a little slower this time.

“You’re not supposed to figure that out.”

Before the tension got too real, her phone buzzed.

She glanced at it.

“Great. My cousin saw us through someone’s Instagram story.” “She said, and I quote: ‘About time you dated someone tall.’”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself.

“Glad to know I passed the height check.”

She sipped her iced tea, leaned back, and whispered just loud enough:

“You’re passing more than that, babe.”

After lunch, she insisted on stopping by the mall.

“Quick lang,” she said. “We need content.”

“Content?” “Yes, babe. We’re a fake couple — not invisible.”

You followed her through the maze of luxury boutiques, dodging security guards and judgmental air, until you reached a small retro-style photo booth tucked between a plant shop and a bakery with a line full of influencers.

She pulled the curtain aside and looked at you with her usual smug grin.

“Tara.” “Wait—what, here??” “Yeah. We need proof for the titas. ‘Soft launch’ style.”

You slid in beside her, awkwardly bumping knees. The curtain closed. It was darker than you expected.

Quiet.

Warm.

Too warm.

“Pose na,” she said. “First frame — smiling. Cute lang.”

Click.

“Second frame — pretend you’re laughing at something I said.”

“But you didn’t say anyth—”

Click.

“Third frame,” she whispered, voice suddenly lower, “Look at me.”

You did.

You weren’t smiling.

She wasn’t either.

And before either of you could speak—

Click.

The last flash went off. But neither of you moved. Your knees were still touching. Her hand was still resting near yours. Your heart? Not behaving.

“Okay…” she said finally, clearing her throat, “we can pick those up in 10.”

You both stepped out like nothing happened. Like it was just for the show.

But you knew. And you think maybe she did too.

When the strip printed, she looked at it.

First frame — smiling. Second frame — blurry laugh. Third frame — eyes locked. Almost too real. Fourth frame — silence captured in a flash.

She didn’t say anything. Just folded it and slipped it into her wallet.

“For the ‘archive,’” she said.

And that was that.

Or maybe… it was the beginning of something else.

After the photo booth incident (which no one will ever admit felt real), Ningning suddenly turned to you mid-walk, eyes lighting up like a child about to commit fiscal terrorism.

“OH MY GOD—Pop Mart!”

“Pop… what now?”

You blinked and looked up just in time to be dragged into a glossy, pastel store filled with tiny shelves, glass boxes, and suspiciously cute toys in blind boxes. She moved like she was in a museum. You moved like you were in a financial crisis.

“I’ve been waiting for this drop,” she mumbled, already grabbing boxes with deadly precision.

“Drop?” “Yes, babe. Limited edition. Do you want me to get you one?”

“I want food and a future, but sure. Gimme the penguin one.”

She giggled and threw in five more.

You didn’t ask questions.

Because by the time she got to the counter?

₱109,700.

No typo.

You watched the card swipe. No flinch. No blink. Not even a glance.

You walked out of the store pale. Stumbling. You clutched your chest.

Then— you dropped to your knees.

“Blughh—ugh—GOD—blughhh—”

You made the most dramatic fake puking noises ever heard inside Greenbelt 5.

Shoppers stared.

She stared.

You looked up at her with pure pain in your eyes.

“That was my tuition. That was my aircon. That was my children’s future.”

She burst out laughing. Like full-body, hands-on-knees, snorting-laugh.

“Stop! You’re so stupid—STOP!!”

“That one figure cost more than my entire org budget last year!”

“Shut up, you’re gonna make me drop my bears!”

She kept laughing, but slowly… the laughter faded. She looked at you again.

Still fake-gagging. Still joking.

But something in her chest shifted.

You were real. You didn’t try to impress her. You didn’t chase her money. You were just… you.

Normal. Simple. And somehow — hilarious.

She bit her lip, still holding the Pop Mart bag.

And softly whispered to herself,

“This isn’t normal…”

But she didn’t mean the toys.

Surprisingly, the next day felt... quiet.

No Porsche. No Mercedes. No matte black anything. You walked into school like a regular guy — no Ningning at the gate, no engine sounds triggering emotional breakdowns.

But that didn’t mean the chaos stopped.

It just got quieter. More targeted.

More annoyingly direct.

First was in the hallway:

“Dude,” your classmate whispered, sliding up beside you. “Are you secretly rich? Like… old money? Hidden trust fund?” “You can tell me. I’m chill.”

Then in the cafeteria line:

“So like… was this a scholarship thing or a ‘she saw your birth chart and fell in love’ situation?”

Then during class, someone from the back casually dropped:

“Hey, Y/N. What perfume do you use?” “Just wondering… for scientific reasons.”

You sighed.

Then came the moment.

Your barkada — the original loud trio — sat you down, stared at you for a solid 10 seconds, then one of them suddenly got on his knees.

“IT SHOULD’VE BEEN MEEEEEEE!!”

The other pretended to cry, clutching your shoulders.

“Bro, just tell us the truth. Did you give her a love potion? Is that what’s happening here?”

“Tell us what you did,” another whispered dramatically. “I’m willing to cross moral boundaries.”

“You realize,” one of them added, “you’re now officially our barkada MVP. We have no choice but to protect you at all costs.”

“whatever guys.” before smiling a little bit.

Ningning had done this before.

Put on the dress. Fixed her hair. Showed up with perfect posture and polite smiles.

Because in her world, love wasn’t something that bloomed — it was assigned. Selected. Negotiated behind wine glasses and expensive napkins.

[LOCATION: A private rooftop restaurant in BGC.] [TIME: 9:00PM, YESTERDAY.]

Tonight’s candidate? Daniel. 25. Singaporean. Second son of a tech empire. Went to Harvard. Invests in green tech. Probably owns a self-watering bonsai.

And still, all Ningning could think about was how you once offered her taho and called it “your 3-star dessert.”

Daniel stood as she arrived.

“Miss Ningning,” he greeted. “You look even more radiant than your Instagram.”

Red flag #1.

She sat down.

“Thank you. You’re early.”

“Father told me never to keep opportunity waiting.”

Red flag #2.

The waiter approached, and Daniel ordered for both of them. Red flag #3.

“I took the liberty of researching your family,” he said casually between sips of wine. “I think a partnership between ours would be quite… synergistic.”

“Ah. So this is a merger meeting.”

He laughed like it was a joke. It wasn’t.

“No offense,” he added, “I’ve met plenty of beautiful women. But not many with your kind of pedigree. You’re a rare investment.”

She stared at him.

Investment.

Not person. Not girl.

You were halfway through your pancit canton break under the makeshift tambayan when it happened.

Again.

Screech. Silence. Gasps. And then—

“OH MY GOD. SHE’S BACK.” “PUTA. WHAT CAR IS THAT NOW??” “BRO. IS THAT—A RANGE ROVER SPORT?!”

You didn’t even flinch this time. Just sighed and looked up from your fork.

There she was — Ningning — stepping out in full black, messy bun, no makeup (but still looked like a Vogue cover), and oversized sunglasses that screamed I didn’t sleep but I still slay.

Except something was… off.

She wasn’t waving. Wasn’t teasing.

She walked straight toward you, ignoring the whispers and stares like she didn’t just destroy the local air quality with her entrance.

“Babe,” she said, voice lower than usual. “Can I stay here for a bit?”

Your friends were already scattering, pretending not to eavesdrop.

You blinked.

“Why’d you come here again?”

She sighed. Sat beside you.

“Because I couldn’t breathe at home.”

She looked around.

Jeepneys passing. A cat sunbathing by the gate. Plastic chairs. Students napping on armrests. Someone selling taho.

She smiled softly.

“This is chaos. But like… the good kind.”

You handed her your extra iced tea. She took it without question.

“My parents set me up with another guy today,” she mumbled. “From Singapore. His family owns a tech firm.”

You didn’t say anything.

“He brought flowers. Called me sweetheart.” “I wanted to throw the bouquet into a blender.”

That made you snort. She smiled.

“They keep thinking I need someone suitable — someone who wears a suit, drives a car that’s not part of my collection, and has a last name that makes business sense.”

Then she looked at you.

Really looked at you.

“But every time I see your face, I don’t think of bank accounts. Or dynasties.” “I think of breathing. And laughing. And… pancit canton.”

“That’s not very romantic,” you muttered.

She chuckled.

“It’s not supposed to be. It’s supposed to be real.”

The chaos kept happening around you.

But inside that circle — that cracked plastic chair, that extra iced tea — it was quiet.

And for the first time since this fake thing began…

You both let it be.

After her surprise visit yesterday, Ningning kept a low profile.

No sports car. No screaming “LOVEEEE” from tinted windows. Just… her.

She texted you out of nowhere.

Ningning: U free? I want silog. Like the real kind. W/ vinegar. Ningning: I’m wearing pambahay ok don’t judge.

You didn’t reply. You just sent the Google pin to your favorite karinderya outside campus.

She arrived in a hoodie, basketball shorts, and pink slippers with bunny ears.

No one recognized her. Except you.

You were already seated, guarding two plates like it was the last food on earth.

“Bunny slippers?” you said. “Shut up. I was depressed. I needed comfort.”

You both started eating. She took her time. You didn’t.

“Slow down,” she said, poking your arm with her fork. “You always eat like it’s a survival challenge.”

“Habit. I share a house with three brothers. If you’re not quick, you go hungry.”

She giggled and poured vinegar on your rice.

“Here. Try it like this.”

You did.

“...That’s kinda good.” “Of course it’s good. I’m rich and right.”

She leaned back in her seat, looking up at the noisy ceiling fan spinning too slow for this heat.

“You ever think about how weird this is?”

“What?”

“You. Me. This whole setup. You’re… not part of my world. But when I’m here, eating silog and watching your hair do that little stupid curl thing, I feel like I don’t need anything else.”

You froze mid-bite.

She caught herself and quickly took a big spoonful of rice.

“ANYWAY. I’m full. What now?”

THE NEXT DAY (SATURDAY)

You knew she wasn’t built for this.

The sun was hot. The air was sticky. And you were walking her through a street you’ve memorized since childhood — the fishball man nodding at you like family, tricycles honking like a symphony, the scent of oil, vinegar, and dreams of ₱10 meals.

Ningning?

She had no idea what she signed up for.

“Okay, okay… so this is—what again?” “Fishball. Kwek-kwek. Isaw. Tokneneng if you’re feeling brave.”

She blinked.

“These sound like Pokémon names.”

You laughed. The vendor handed you a cup.

“Here, fishball muna. Baby steps.”

She poked it once. It slipped. You caught it mid-air and handed it back with a grin.

“Wow. Hero.” “I train in the arts of street food defense.”

You dipped it in the sauce for her — not too much — and held it up.

“Trust me.”

She took a bite.

Paused.

“Wait. This slaps.” “Told you.”

Soon you were guiding her through stalls, helping her count coins, showing her which taho guy gives the best syrup-to-sago ratio.

“Okay, now this is balut.” “I’ve seen Fear Factor. I’m out.”

“You ate ₱7k sushi last week, Ning.” “Yeah, but the duck didn’t have a face.”

After a while, she sat on the sidewalk beside you. You handed her bottled water.

She wiped her hand, looked at you, then at the street.

“You know what’s crazy?” she said. “This isn’t scary.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I always thought this would be chaotic, dirty, overwhelming. But I don’t feel scared.” “I feel… safe.”

You smiled.

She looked down at her stained fingers and laughed.

“But seriously, how do I get this sauce off my nail?” “You don’t. That’s the payment for entering my world.”

She leaned on your shoulder.

“Fine. I’ll keep it. Street badge unlocked.”

And for the first time in a long time…

She didn’t feel like a guest. She felt like she belonged.

It was already 10:38PM.

You were lying on your mattress, fan pointed directly at your legs, holding your phone above your face. Your fingers were stained orange from the cheesy chichirya you swore you weren’t gonna eat.

Her name popped up.

Ningning: hi. Ningning: miss ko na isaw. Ningning: and maybe a little bit of you. but not that much.

You smiled.

You: just admit you’re soft na. Ningning: I will literally throw you.

She called.

No video, just her sleepy voice and the background sound of her Dyson air purifier. You could tell she was lying on her bed, face-first, blanket up to her ears.

“Hey,” she said. “Do you ever think about how weird today was?”

“What part?” “You choking on fishball? Or nearly paying ₱1,000 for taho because you thought the man was underselling himself?”

She laughed — that genuine, belly laugh. The kind you never heard from her in fancy cafes.

“Shut up. That man deserved a raise. I was just being a woman of the people.”

There was a pause.

“No but seriously,” she said softly. “Today was… the happiest I’ve felt in a while.”

“Because of isaw?” “Because I didn’t have to be her today.”

“Her?” “You know. ‘Conyo Ningning.’ The girl with five cars and a family full of pressure. The girl who has to be flawless all the time.”

She shifted.

“But with you… I can just be stupid. Chill. Tanga. Like me.”

You smiled to yourself, heart thudding a bit too hard for this late at night.

“You’re not tanga.” “Okay, maybe a little when you thought sauce and nail polish were the same thing—”

“I will hang up.”

Silence. Then both of you laughed again.

“Hey,” she said. “If this was real… like, real real… would you still like me?”

You blinked.

“It already feels real.”

That shut her up for a few seconds.

Then—

“Okay. Goodnight, stupid.” “Night, rich girl.”

Call ended.

You stared at your screen, heart too full.

And for the first time since this whole fake thing started…

You didn’t want it to end.

“Hey,” you said before she hung up. “You know, I’m kinda bummed PUP doesn’t sell street food inside. I’d go crazy if there was a kwek-kwek cart next to the library.”

“Noted,” she replied, like she was writing it down for a future PowerPoint proposal. “Anyway, sleep na, Mr. Fishball.” “Goodnight, Bunny Slippers.”

[MONDAY – PUP Cafeteria, 11:21 AM]

You were just trying to grab lunch. Same old cafeteria, same weird smells.

Until— You froze.

There it was. A LINE of street food vendors inside the actual cafeteria. One had isaw. Another had kwek-kwek. There was even a taho guy in the corner with a laminated ID that said “Official Cafeteria Vendor (Temporary).”

Your brain lagged.

“TANGINA…” one of your classmates whispered. “BAKIT MAY FISHBALL SA LOOB???”

Students were lining up, confused but thrilled. And then you saw it:

A small handwritten sign taped to the kwek-kwek cart.

“Y/N’S SPECIAL: FREE. (Everyone else: ₱5 per stick)”

You looked around, heart pounding. Somewhere, you knew she was watching.

You texted her.

You: you did this didn’t you Ningning: no i think it was the spirit of the kwek-kwek gods You: you’re insane Ningning: yeah. for u.

You shook your head, smiling stupidly.

And took your place in line.

YIZHOU RESIDENCE

House 1 of 10. The coldest. The biggest. The most silent.

A knock at her bedroom door. It wasn’t even the head maid — just one of the door staff.

“Good morning, Miss Ning. Your father wants to see you.” “Ugh, what is it this time.”

She put on her robe, tied her hair into something passable, and dragged her feet across 600 square meters of imported marble.

[Her father's office.]

Large desk. Minimal light. Cold air from central AC. Her father didn’t even look up.

“What is it, old man?” “Sit.”

She didn’t.

“I heard your little boyfriend isn’t what you said he is.”

He placed a file on the desk. Black leather. Golden seal. Confidential.

“Y/N. From PUP, not DLSU. Lives in a rented apartment — rent overdue for three months. Pleaded to keep their water and electricity. Deceased parents. Works part-time at a 7/11. Weekends too.”

Ningning’s mouth opened slightly.

“Wha— how dare you— you SPY on him?”

“You know, I got curious…” he said calmly. “All these men I’ve personally — emphasis on personally — handpicked for you. Scholars. Entrepreneurs. Future billionaires. And you reject them?”

“So I had to ask myself. Why?” “And now I know.”

He leaned back.

“So I’ll give you a choice.”

“We offer him ₱2 million to disappear. Never see you again. Or—”

He slid a piece of paper forward. It was blank. Symbolic.

“You live with him. But you won’t be my daughter anymore.”

She blinked. Once.

“That means your credit cards: cut. Cars: repossessed. All ten of our homes: will have the liberty to reject you at the gate. And your only money will be… whatever’s left in your wallet.”

Ningning stared at him. No tears. No begging. Just one sentence.

“I’ll live with him.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She didn’t ask for a moment to think.

She just turned. Walked.

And left behind everything.

It was one of those nights.

The fan was on its fourth creaking rotation. Your feet dangled off the bed. You couldn’t sleep. Not because it was hot — but because something in your chest wouldn’t sit still.

You stared at the ceiling.

That’s when your phone buzzed.

📞 Incoming call: Ningning 💅🏻

You picked it up.

“Yo, Ningning.” “I mean—babe.” you corrected, half-sarcastic.

Her voice came through the speaker. Soft. Nervous.

“I’m coming over.” “Huh?” “How do you… make the tricycle know the way?”

You chuckled, already standing up.

“Just say ‘Y/N’s residence’ when you get to the terminal near our subdivision.” “Okay. Thanks.”

You didn't even fix the place. Didn’t check the mirror. Just stood there in your worn-out Nirvana shirt — one your late father handed down to you — and your old basketball shorts that had more thread than fabric.

[A knock at the door.]

You opened it.

There she was. No glam. No outfit changes. No white Porsche.

Just Ningning. Hoodie over her head. Bag over her shoulder. Eyes tired.

“No cars today, Ning?”

She didn’t smile.

“We need to talk.”

You nodded and let her in.

You sat on the couch — the spring-poked, hand-me-down couch that creaked when anyone over 100 lbs sat on it. You thought about offering her juice. But remembered you didn’t even have rice for breakfast tomorrow.

“What’s up?” you asked, gently.

She looked at you, calm, composed — almost too composed.

“I’m living with you.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Huh?!”

She breathed deep. And said it like a weather report:

“Long story short… My dad found out. About you. The real you. PUP. Rent. 7/11. Everything.”

“He gave me two options: One — never see you again, and I get everything back. Or two — live with you. Starting tonight. No help. No money. No cards. No family.”

Silence.

You blinked. She kept talking.

“It’s complicated. I lied to him about everything. About you. So this is the consequence. And I picked it.”

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat.

“Ning… are you sure?”

“No. I’m not. But if it means I still get to see you every day… I’ll take the uncertainty over a golden cage.”

She adjusted the bag on her lap.

“So yeah. I’m not asking to sleep in your bed. Just… point me to a corner I can call mine.”

You stared at her.

Then stood up.

Walked to your room.

And came back with your extra pillow — the one that’s seen better days but still held shape.

“Corner? You’re not sleeping in the corner.” “Why not?”

“'Cause if we’re broke, we’re broke together. And this bed barely fits one, but hey— we’ll figure it out.”

She smiled.

The first real one that night.

The sun had barely peeked over the rooftops when she asked—

“Y/N, is there coffee?”

You pointed across the street with a half-yawn.

“There’s a vending machine beside Tita Belen’s sari-sari store. Five pesos. Best coffee you’ll ever hate but still love.”

Ningning squinted out the window.

“Five… pesos?”

You nodded.

“Do I need, like, to download an app or—”

“No app. No line. No barista asking for your name. Just a paper cup, three-in-one powder, and a boiling tank older than both of us combined.”

Ten minutes later, the two of you were seated outside on two sun-stained monobloc chairs. You wore your Nirvana shirt again. She wore your sister’s hoodie, sleeves too long, hood barely covering her morning hair.

Steam rose from your identical paper cups.

“It’s… warm,” she said, sipping.

“It’s nostalgic,” you replied. “Tastes like heartbreak, passed exams, and regret.”

She laughed.

“You always make everything poetic.” “Comes free with poverty.”

Then you heard her.

“Abaaaa…” “Y/N, iho!”

It was Lola Belen, the neighborhood queen of tsismis and sari-sari economics. She stepped outside, broom in one hand, plastic clip still holding half her curlers.

She looked Ningning up and down—socks mismatched, cup in hand, smiling like she belonged there.

“What a cute girlfriend you have.” “Ang ganda! Mag-ingat ka, baka agawin!”

Ningning smiled bashfully, covering her mouth with the cup. You nearly choked on your coffee.

“Ah—she’s not—uh—” “I mean—yeah. She’s… yeah.”

“Hmp. Maganda na, mabait pa. Tinabihan ka lang niya, gumwapo ka agad.”

Ningning giggled, eyes crinkling.

“Thank you po, Lola,” she said, bowing slightly. “I’ll take care of your favorite customer.”

Lola Belen smiled like she’d just witnessed the beginning of a teleserye.

And for a little heartstring pull at the end…

As you walked back to your gate, Ningning whispered:

“You know…” “That was the first time in a long time someone called me cute just because—” “—not because of my bags, or makeup, or school.”

You didn’t say anything.

Just quietly poured the last sip of your coffee onto the sidewalk.

And took her empty cup, so she wouldn’t have to.

You woke up to the sound of metal clinking in the kitchen.

At first, you thought it was a rat. Or worse—your landlord checking for unpaid rent. But then you heard it:

“Ugh!—Why won’t this stupid thing turn on?!”

You got up, shirtless and confused. Peeked into the kitchen.

There she was. Ningning. In one of your oversized pambahay shirts. Hair tied into some messy half-bun. Holding a rice cooker lid like it owed her money.

“...What are you doing?”

She turned to you, deadpan.

“I am... trying to cook.” “You said you were tired of eating Lucky Me.”

You blinked at the chaos.

The rice cooker was plugged… into the extension cord… that wasn’t plugged into anything. On the floor sat a pot of water, no rice. Beside it? Rice. Unwashed. Poured into a bowl like cereal.

You chuckled.

“Ning… that’s not how this works.”

“Then teach me! I just wanna help okay? I feel useless here. I can’t contribute. I can’t even turn on the rice!”

You walked over, gently took the extension cord, and plugged it into the wall.

“First lesson,” you said. “Electricity is kinda important.”

[Later that day… laundry.]

She stared at your old washing machine like it was a cursed artifact.

“Why is it shaking?? It’s so loud—did we break it??”

“No, that’s just how it sounds. It’s like 11 years old.”

“...Is it supposed to smell like that?”

You grinned.

“Only a little.”

Ningning frowned at the clothes she just hung with wooden pins outside.

“I think I accidentally dyed your white shirt pink.”

“It’s okay. Now I match your lipstick.”

She turned redder than the shirt.

[Nighttime.]

You found her on the floor, arms outstretched, exhausted.

“I cooked. I cleaned. I handwashed socks. This is worse than pilates.”

You tossed her a cold bottled water from the fridge.

“You survived.”

She sat up.

“Barely. But…”

She looked around. Your tiny apartment. The hanging clothes. The warm rice cooker you saved with your own two hands.

“It’s… not so bad. Simple. Humble. Feels a little like a movie. You, me, and the noise of the electric fan.”

“A broke indie film.” “A poverty-core romance.”

You both laughed.

And as she laid her head on your lap, eyes slowly closing, she whispered:

“I used to have everything. But this right here? Feels more real than anything I’ve ever owned.”

It started as a dare.

You handed her a crisp ₱500 bill, straight from your emergency cash stash.

“Okay, boss babe,” you said, arms crossed. “Here’s your mission: budget groceries for three days. We need at least rice, eggs, meat, and something to drink that’s not hotdog water.”

“Easy,” Ningning replied, all smug in her cap and hoodie disguise. “I’m a Math major.”

“No you’re not.” “Exactly. Which makes this more fun.”

[AT THE PALENGKE]

First red flag?

She walked past the tindera shouting “15 per kilo po!” to ask—

“Miss, do you guys sell almond milk?”

Second red flag?

She squealed in excitement after finding a fruit stand.

“OMG they have grapes!” “Ning—no—” “And they’re seedless!!”

She dropped a bag into the basket.

“₱600??” “It’s imported!” “So is my stress!”

Fifteen minutes in, your ₱500 became ₱–180. She bought:

Brie cheese (₱320)

Salmon belly (₱200)

1 pack of truffle oil pasta (₱450)

Sparkling water “in cute bottles” (₱110)

And exactly one egg (“For aesthetic.”)

You were dying inside.

“Ning. We are literally down to rice and prayers.”

She blinked.

“I… I thought this was enough?” “For a picnic at Bonifacio High Street, maybe!”

[AT HOME – POST-GROCERY MELTDOWN]

She flopped on the couch dramatically.

“I failed you.” “You failed math. Logic. And hunger.”

She peeked up from the pillow.

“But the grapes were good, right?”

You threw one at her. She caught it with her mouth and grinned.

“Admit it,” she said. “Even my broke girl arc is iconic.”

You sat down beside her, shaking your head.

“We’re eating eggs and rice for the next week.” “Then it’ll be the best egg and rice of our lives.”

She curled up beside you, your ₱500 lesson etched into her soul.

“Next time, you do the groceries,” she mumbled sleepily. “I’ll just be in charge of being cute.”

You laughed.

“That’s a full-time job already.”

It was supposed to be a nice little break.

Just you and Ningning, sitting across each other at a 3-star family restaurant you saved up for. Nothing fancy. Plastic menu. Kids crying in the corner. Table’s a little sticky.

But the fried chicken hit just right, and Ningning? She looked happy.

She was in your old hoodie again, hair tied messily, dipping her fries into banana ketchup like it was fine dining.

“This tastes better than that truffle aioli BS,” she joked, licking her fingers.

“Because it’s made with love.” “And probably 3 types of artificial oil.”

You both laughed.

Until the bell by the glass door rang.

You didn’t notice him at first.

But Ningning did.

He was tall. Polished. Hair slicked back, dress shirt perfectly pressed. Kai Yoon, Singapore Tech. NingNing’s ex from 2 years ago.

He paused at the entrance, sunglasses still on indoors. And when his eyes landed on Ningning, they stayed there.

He made his way toward your table.

Ning: can we talk? Ning: i see you reading the texts Ning: youre not slick You: what is it ning? Ning: we broke up You: oh Ning: can we talk?

You stared at the texts as you waited for Ningning to arrive. You decided to meet at a cafe, one of the few 24 hour ones, to talk. You were nervous, worried about what she wanted to say, worried about what you were going to say. You were looking around, sipping on your drink, when Ningning walked in.

She walked towards you, sitting down.

“You can get a drink if you’d like. They’re pretty good.”

“In a minute, maybe.”

You nodded, you could hear the seriousness in her voice, a nervous feeling boiled in your stomach as you both sat in the silence. The tension was light, you were sure it was your nerves going off that made everything feel more intense. Especially when Ningning was never too serious of a person so feeling this serious air around her was jarring.

“You broke up?” You asked, sipping more of your drink.

Ningning nodded, “Yeah, a week ago, actually.”

“A week ago?” You felt your eyebrows raise.

“We weren’t getting anywhere being together, it wasn’t hard. Mutual disinterest.”

You understood, nodding as you nervously looked around.

“That’s what I wanted to talk about.” She said, “During that week I was thinking a lot, about us, about other relationships.”

You nodded, wanting to hear her as clearly as you could. You could see her fiddling with her hands and jacket, practically running over her lines so she wouldn’t mess anything up.

“I really missed you. I realized how bitchy I was, always using you and throwing you away. I was a bad person and I’m sorry.”

“You were a little bitchy.”

Ningning laughed, a soft airy one, “Yeah. I hope you can forgive me, though.”

“I can.” You assured her.

“Really?”

“As long as you’re serious this time.”

“Can we try?” She asked.

“Can we try what?”

“Us?”

Her voice was a little louder than a whisper, almost scared to talk about your history and possibility together. You liked Ningning, you really did, and it seems like Ningning likes you, too. She looked scared of rejection, like the longer you wait to answer the closer to dying she’ll be.

“I’d like that.”

“We can go slow.” She said quickly, “I, I’d like to go slow.”

You nodded, “We can take our time and actually start a relationship.”

Ningning smiled, “That’d be really nice.”

You both sat and talked at the cafe, Ningning ordered a drink and dessert for you two to split. You talked more in there than you were sure you’d talked before. Finally opening up to each other without getting someone off.

As you finished up, you asked if she wanted to come over.

Shaking her head, “Too many bad things happen when we spend a night over. I want this to be different.”

You laughed, “That’s fine.”

You walked Ningning to her car.

“Is kissing off the table for a first date?”

Ningning giggled at your question, “I wouldn’t call this a date, really.”

She leaned against her car, looking at you before you both leaned in and kissed. It was different now, feeling chaste and soft. When you’d usually kiss it was hungry and urgent. You liked this side of Ningning more.

“Drive safe.”

You walked backwards, waving goodbye to her before making your way home. You felt light, any knot in your body, from holding your words back or from nervousness tensing your stomach up, disappeared.

You laid in your bed, looking up at the ceiling with no sense of wonder or disappointment. No feeling of guilt like talking to Ningning was something bad or immoral.

This felt good.

You both spent some time away from each other, you really enjoyed the separation. With your last conversation you felt open to whatever Ningning was planning, actually excited to see what will happen between the two of you.

After a few days you received a text from her, asking what kind of date you’d like to go on.

You: it’s not that serious lol You: how about a cafe or shopping? Ning: :o sounds fun! Ning: friday at 2? You: sounds great!

As your date came around, you dressed less casual than you’d normally dress. Opting for something walkable but an upgrade from your usual going-out outfits.

You noticed how punctual Ningning was: arriving before your date was planned, going out of her way to assist you, driving towards your favorite mall, and going straight to the shops you wanted to see.

She helped pick out tops and bottoms for you. Showing you accessories that were your taste. You, of course, did the same for her, showing and finding the right size of clothing for her. While it was exhausting, it was so much fun. Ningning didn’t mind waiting for you in the dressing rooms to show an outfit or piece to tell you how well it looked.

As you both walked around with your bags, you felt her hand grab onto yours, pulling you here and there before ending at a small cafe. You were both tucked away, enjoying each other’s company as the sun slowly crept lower.

“Wait, stay there!” Ningning got her phone out.

She carefully took your picture, adjusting the lighting, having you change poses. You were laughing the whole time, seeing how her smile widened at each photo snapped.

You noticed Ningning grow shy as you took your phone out, taking candid photos of her before she moved to pose. Both giggling before you finished taking pictures, opting to drink and eat the desserts you bought.

Leaving the cafe, you both walked towards her car, putting all of your bags on one arm and entwining your fingers together. Your legs were tired and aching but you didn’t want to leave yet, you were really enjoying her company.

Ningning was so different before, putting up walls and worried about anything getting too close. But now you see how she’s relaxed and let you in.

“Ning?”

You looked ahead, seeing Minjeong.

You felt Ningning’s hand shake before detaching from yours.

“Minjeong!”

They asked what the other was doing, Ningning and you having a shopping spree while Minjeong was walking towards an appointment for something, you really weren’t paying attention.

“It was so nice seeing you.” Minjeong waved bye.

You both walked towards her car, more silent now. Setting your things into her trunk and sitting in the car, Ningning broke the silence,

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice was a little louder than a whisper.

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You looked at her.

“It’s not.” She sighed, “I really want this. I do. I-”

“You said you needed time, we can take our time with this.”

“You’re not mad?”

“I’m not mad at you, Ning. A little sad or disappointed but I’m not mad.”

“We can still-”

“We’re not gonna break up over you not holding my hand.” You laughed.

Ningning smiled, feeling her worry go away.

“I just need to get comfortable with this.”

You nodded, “Baby steps.”

Ningning smiled, “Exactly! Baby steps!”

She started her car, driving you home to drop you off.

“Did you wanna come in?”

“No, ma’am. We need to take our time, I don’t wanna mess anything up by moving too fast.”

You laughed, “Well this was an amazing first date, thank you Ningning.”

“Thank you, y/n, also for an amazing first date.”

your classes today span from 7 am to 7 pm, coming back home, however, just before midnight, having had to work on extra assignments or what not. you were so fucking exhausted, you didn't even get good sleep last night and had to wake up early too. your girlfriends were already home, aeri and minjeong in the kitchen while yizhuo and rina cleaned the house, all of them waiting for you to come home.

you'd usually be back by 8 or 9 during these 7-7 days, but once the clock hit 10, your girls started to worry. winselle had already been done a while ago with the food and ningrina had finished cleaning by the time they all realized you hadn't come home yet. jeong immediately texted you, asking if you were okay, a worried expression on her face. the unnies felt their heart drop to their stomach imagining the worst, the two of them exchanging a look of worry. ningyi was borderline hysterical, verbalizing everything wrong that could've happened to you, which ranged from rambling ab if your phone had died or lost signal to if you had gotten into an accident on the way home or someone had taken you.

her hysteria didn't help at all and just made all of them worry even more. rina tried to be level-headed about it and give rational explanations, to which everyone agreed. but the worry didn't subside once it turned 11. they all started becoming paranoid as fuck. and so, rina texted you, aeri called you, jeongie dm'd your socials, and yizhuo contacted all your friends. they had to figure out where you were and most importantly, if you were okay.

when honestly in reality, you just had ur phone on silent, not touching it, just trying to power through all the fucking piles of work you had to finish. when you finally did, you packed your shit and booked it, not even glancing at your phone and b-lining home, wanting to feel the warm embrace of your gfs. you finally made it to the door of your shared apartment, leaning your forehead against the hardwood and sighing. your temples throbbed and eyes heavy with exhaustion, your body barely able to move atp. but you gathered enough energy to dig for your keys and unlock the door.

the girls perked up when they heard the locks rattle. ning raced for the door and swung it open before you could unlock it, colliding her body with yours and burying her face into your winter coat.

"where have you been?!" she would exclaim, voice muffled by your clothes.

"ningie, that's enough, at least let her come in," rina said behind her, pulling both of you inside and closing the door.

she pulled away, and the four girls crowded around you, their eyes full of worry but relief as well. you ignore their gazes and rid of your outerwear, removing your shoes, taking off your bag, and slipping out of your coat. they followed you as you dragged yourself to the living room and collapsed on the couch face first. they all jumped a little when you suddenly screamed into the armrest, letting out your stress and pent up exhaustion.

aeri was the first to reapproach you, pulling your limp body up to face her, her kneeling down beside you on the couch.

"you okay baby?" her voice gentle but lined with so much concern.

you closed your eyes at the feeling of her fingers brushing your hair, suddenly feeling tears well up in your eyes. no, you wanted to say, I'm so overwhelmed and stressed and today fucking sucked. but the sheer amount of exhaustion and dread washed over you, making u unable to respond and also start sobbing softly.

ur quiet cries didn't go unheard, the three other girls standing around you on the couch feeling their heart break at the sight of you, just absolutely shattered. aeri's jaw clenched and her eyebrows dropped, immediately pulling you up against her body, you shoving ur face into her neck. the other girls joined just as fast, feeling minjeong move under you so u sat on her lap, your back being hugged by ning, aeri letting you cry into her.

rina crouched down in front of you and rested her chin on your thigh, holding one of your hands with her own, using her free hand to caress your cheek and brush the hair out of your face. the five of you cuddled in silence, your sweet gfs just letting you release all your pent up emotions, feeling emotional themselves watching you so broken.

you were in such a devastated state, crying and aching, feeling so tired and wanting to sleep but being so fucking hungry that your stomach hurt. but even in this moment, despite barely able to breathe thru ur clogged nostrils, the only thing you're able to hear is white noise and the sound of your hiccups, shaking against gigi's sweater, jeongie's lap, yizhuo's hold, and jimin's hands, god, you felt so loved.

you felt so cared for, so adored, so safe, so comforted, so warm. rina leaving the gentlest kisses on ur leg and hands, aeri placing small pecks on ur forehead and hair, minjeong caressing your skin under your shirt, and ning holding you in the most comforting embrace, mumbling to herself against your back ("oh my sweet sweet girl, I'm so sorry you feel so broken, I love you so much :((("). they felt so good, so sweet, like home.

sitting there for minutes to hours, just holding onto you like their precious baby (you are), never leaving your side for a second, making sure every inch of your body was paid attention to. it made you melt further and further into them, something u needed desperately in this moment (it's also cold as fuck outside). u stopped crying on your own, feeling the tears stain ur cheeks as they slowly stopped falling from your eyes, sniffling to recollect yourself (and not leave gross remnants on ur gf's givenchy sweater).

the sound of ur soft giggle made all of them look at u. you sniffle once, twice, hiccup, before mumbling loud enough onto giselle's skin, "fuck."

they all let out an amused chuckle or sigh, rubbing at your skin, your back, patting your head or hair, anything, anywhere, just touching you and making sure you feel their love and affection for you.

"I hate to ruin your designer aeri..." you pull back slightly away from her neck, bringing a hand up to brush at your nose.

"don't even worry your pretty little head about it my love, are you kidding? I don't care about this, especially not when I have the most precious thing in the world right here," she states so sweetly, kissing ur stained cheeks.

"I wet it..." u hiccup.

"it's not like it's the first time you've cried into this sweater. except, it was for other reasons," aeri snickers next to your ear.

karina scowls, winter grimaces, and ningning bellows with laughter. you playfully hit her shoulder and roll your tired eyes as she smiles at you with that adorable and sweet :] shaped grin of hers. jimin taps your thigh and you look down at her, "tough day?"

you nod your head with a heavy sigh, the two younger girls following it up with rubbing your body caringly.

"you should rest princess, let's get you relaxed, okay?" yizhuo behind you rests her chin on your shoulder and says against your ear, the other girls nodding in agreement.

you let out a silent but audible okay before your girlfriends get to work. helping you get cleaned up and out of your clothes you've been in all day, getting you water and electrolytes to replenish the amount of tears you shed, feeding you dinner, getting you ready to sleep in your bed. they all do this in such blissful and comfortable silence, putting your mind at ease and peace as to not stimulate your overwhelmed form any further. they were so calm and patient with you, speaking softly and treating you gently, making sure you were okay with every little simple yet thoughtful thing they did to and for you.

as the girls discussed silently with one another who would stay with you for the night, your weak voice raised from behind them, immediately grabbing their attention.

"please, I need all of you with me tonight. please stay with me?"

the desperation and sorrow in your voice made their hearts ache. they love you so much, like so fucking much. so of course, they did. all of you cuddled up together in karina's big bed, you snuggled up nice, tight, and warm in the center. the soft noises the girls around you made as they slumbered, making sure they had some part of their body touching yours, never wanting to feel you apart from them.

"sleep baby," minjeong's soft cute voice emerges from the dark, her face digging into your neck and placing the sweetest kisses against your skin, "you deserve every bit of rest in the universe."

it was a nice and sunny day, but it was quite hot, maybe agreeing to spending a majority of the day outside with the girls wasn’t the best idea.

you groaned as you laid out a blanket on the grass in a somewhat shaded area in the park. karina followed behind you with the basket filled with snacks, then giselle with a drink cooler, winter with some ice cream bars that you had all bought before arriving to the park, and ningning who was basically in charge of holding the different cameras brought along for aesthetic memory making.

everyone set their things down before sitting next to you on the blanket, watching as you dramatically ranted about the hot weather.

“not our fault you decided to agree to this outing.” karina said, tapping winter on the arm to hand over her ice cream bar.

“but it technically is your fault,” you retorted, sitting up just to dramatically drape yourself over karina. “you made it seem more fun than it actually is.”

you pouted, gaining ningnings attention because she just found it cute how dramatic you got when it came to hot weather. it’s almost as if you were gonna melt at any second due to the heat.

ningning grabbed one of the disposable cameras and snapped a picture of you, the flash bringing you out of your dramatic state and putting you into a playful one.

“hey, we need to use those films sparingly! do you know how much film costs.” bringing yourself closer to ningning, your foreheads practically touching.

“i’m aware, but i needed to capture that cute moment.” ningning smugly smiled, putting the disposable down, watching as everyone’s face turned into a more disgusted one.

“get a room you two.” giselle said, making a fake gagging noise which earned a laugh from winter. ningnings face turned a slight pink while you sat on your heels, trying your best to also not laugh along with winter.

time passed and you all were making good memories, everyone had taken at least a couple pictures with the different cameras, making sure to not miss a single moment you all shared.

“aw man, we finished all our snacks, maybe we should go back home.” winter said, sighing as she looking into the basket in search of any hidden snacks.

“maybe, but at least there’s air conditioning inside!” you said enthusiastically, getting up from your spot on the blanket and helping everyone else up. you all cleaned up before folding the blanket up and taking a path that lead to the exit of the park, but as you all were walking, someone had come up to you to start up some light conversation.

ningning turned around when she didn’t feel you clinging to her arm anymore and when she saw two men talking to you, she felt anger bubble up inside of her.

“you guys go ahead, i’ll meet you guys back at home.” ningning quickly said before speed walking to you.

“so we were just wondering if we could get your number? we saw you from across-” one of the dudes said before he was cut off by ningning who clinged to your arm, giving them both a stare they’ll never forget.

“sorry to interrupt, but we have things we need to do today.” she said before dragging you away from the two men. you waved goodbye before looking at ningning as you two walked, the angry look on her face was enough to send chills down your spine.

why did she seem so mad?

once you two reached the exit of the park, you stopped which made ningning stop with you.

“what was that all about?” you asked, noticing how ningnings expression softened slightly.

“they were so clearly trying to get your number so they could take you on a date or something, how did you not catch that.” ningning said, her tone filled with jealousy.

“nuh uh, they probably just wanted to be friends, i don’t see why it concerns you anyways.” you responded, crossing your arms and looking past ningnings shoulder to see if you could at least spot one of the dudes who stopped you, but no luck.

ningning bit her lip, deciding on if she should be straight up or lie. if she confessed right now then what would your reaction be? would it ruin things? time to play russian roulette i guess…

“it concerns me because i like you and im tired of you being so oblivious when it comes to people flirting with you.” she blurted out, watching as your eyes instantly locked with hers in shock.

“you like me?” you asked, confused.

“yes you idiot, i’ve liked you for longer than i can think of but you’ve always been so oblivious when i even attempted at flirting with you.” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose while closing her eyes, she knew you were oblivious but she didn’t think it was that extreme.

it was silent for a moment before you pulled ningnings hand away from her face, holding it as you gently kissed her cheek.

“i like you too.” you smiled.