3. Ate!MyAss!
1212 Words
Sevy’s POV
What the hell just happened?
I was already outside the gym, walking toward my car like a man with purpose, but really? I felt like throwing something. Preferably my brain. Or maybe a basketball.
Or maybe her.
“Talaga bang lil bro lang ang tingin mo sakin?”
I gave her the perfect opening. I stared into her eyes, hoping—no, expecting—at least something in return. Even a flinch. A blink. A breath. Anything.
But nada.
She just stood there, lips parted, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. And when I realized she wasn’t gonna say it, wasn’t gonna even try…
I did what I do best. I pretended it didn’t matter.
Chuckled. Shrugged. Said “buti na lang.” Told her I had a date.
Well, guess what, Severino?
That was the dumbest sh*t you’ve said all year.
I reached my car, slammed the door shut, and banged my head lightly on the steering wheel.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”
The worst part? I didn’t even have a real date.
That girl people keep talking about? Kyla? Business partner. Marketing major. Strictly meetings. But of course, I used her name to save my pride. Classic.
I turned the ignition and let the music play. Some random R&B track with heartbreak lyrics I would normally skip.
Tonight? I let it hurt. I hate this.
I hate that she still calls me “lil bro” when all I want is for her to call me “babe.”
I hate that she treats me like I’m still that toothy thirteen-year-old she used to bribe with ice cream to shut up.
I hate that no matter how many achievements I stack up—varsity player, CEO at 18, straight-A student—I’m still not enough for her to see me the way I see her.
Sevy, grow up. You already did.
Then why do you still feel so small beside her?
By the time I got to the rooftop of my office building, the city was already asleep.
I always went there when I needed silence. Space. Answers I couldn’t get anywhere else.
I stood at the edge, arms crossed, hoodie pulled over my head, sipping the last few drops of the coffee I “stole” from her earlier.
Her coffee.
The best coffee on Earth, no joke. Because it’s hers. Because it tastes like her—bittersweet, addicting, confusing as hell.
I wanted to throw the tumbler across the building.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I sat on one of the rooftop lounge chairs and stared at the stars.
“Bren…"
I said her name out loud, just once. Whispered it into the night like it could echo back to her somehow.
I remembered the way she looked at me when I asked that question. She wasn’t mocking me. She wasn’t cold. She was just… frozen.
Scared.
And that made me mad all over again.
Not at her, but at myself. Because deep down, I knew she wasn’t ready.
And I still pushed.
I thought maybe—just maybe—she felt the same. And maybe she does. But fear? Fear is a wall I couldn’t climb tonight.
My phone buzzed.
Brena.
I opened the message.
“No need to ask Manong Tony. I have my car. Enjoy.”
"tssss."
Short. Dry. Polite.
Painful.
She didn’t say she was okay. She didn’t say she wasn’t. She didn’t even fight back like usual. And that hurt more than if she’d cursed me out.
Because silence from Brena? hindi siya yan.
She always reacts. She always fights. She always calls me “kumag” at least once an hour. Pero ngayon, she let me walk away.
And I let her.
Coward.
I sighed, looking up at the sky again. My mind raced with what I should’ve said instead.
Maybe if I’d said:
“Bren, I like you.” Or “You don’t have to be scared, I’m serious.” Or even just…
“Stay.”
But no. I went full idiot mode. I ran. Because the truth is, I’m scared too.
Napabuga ako ng hangin sa bibig ko.
What if she’s just being nice? What if she pities me? What if the “ate” thing really is real to her and I’m just delusional?
Daming what if's.
I’ve had girls. Dates. Flings. Labels I never wanted.
But Bren?
She’s the only one who makes me want to try for real.
My phone buzzed again. This time from Kyla.
Kyla: “Confirming 10am meeting tomorrow. Final draft pitch. See you at HQ?”
I typed back fast.
Me: “Yup. Don’t be late.”
Then I paused. And added.
Me: “No more rumors please. I’m not dating you.”
She replied with a laughing emoji and a thumbs up.
Good.
Because tomorrow, I need to stop hiding behind fake things. And maybe—just maybe—I’ll find a way to talk to Brena again.
Properly. Honestly. No games.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I let myself hurt.
Just a little.
-----------------------------
I couldn’t sleep.
It was already 2:37 AM. I was still on the rooftop, hoodie over my head, coffee gone cold in my hand, and a million thoughts swirling in my brain like a freaking typhoon.
My phone lit up again. Not from Brena.
Just a calendar reminder.
10:00 AM – Kyla: Final Brand Mock-Up + Budget Proposal. HQ – Conf Room C.
Right. The “date.” The one I lied about.
I sighed, leaned back, and stared at the night sky. The stars looked blurry, like my vision was smudged—wait, was I actually tearing up?
Tangina. No way.
I never cry.
Not since I was ten and Dad forgot to show up at my school presentation. Since then, I learned to carry disappointment like a badge.
You shrug. You move. You pretend.
Tonight, I couldn’t pretend.
I remember the first time I realized I liked her.
Flashback – Five Years Ago
I remember the first time I realized I liked her.
We were in Tagaytay for a family outing. Bren and I were walking ahead while our parents stayed behind, taking pictures like boomers. She was carrying my jacket even though she was clearly cold herself. I tried to take it back but she said, “Mamaya ka na. Basa pa ‘yang likod mo.”
I didn’t say anything.
But something in me shifted.
That moment? That quiet kindness? That protectiveness? That’s when I knew.
Back to Present – Rooftop
And now she thinks I’m dating someone else.
Well played, Sev. A+ sa self-sabotage.
I finally stood up, brushed off my jeans, and stared down at the city lights. I didn’t know how I could fix this. Or if I should even try.
Would she even believe me if I told her the truth? Baka mamaya batukan pa ako nun.
If she only knew.
That she’s the reason I hustle so hard? That she’s why I opened the company early, why I push myself twice as hard in class and on the court?
Because if she saw me as someone worth taking seriously, maybe she’d finally stop calling me “lil bro.”
Maybe she’d choose me.
- Writer
