Kicking Fire - A Story of Mulan

XVI.

-Raya-

The air outside the diner was cool, humming with the quiet buzz of streetlamps and distant engines. The kind of silence that usually calms you after a long day. But not tonight. Not for me.

I walked alongside the others as we left the booth behind—Felix still holding Irene’s hand, Mason cracking jokes about something I barely caught, and Alec trailing just a step behind me.

Sidney, Jessa, and Kiana didn’t say a word. Not since Alec’s comment.

The silence clung to them like wet fabric.

Not that I was eager to talk either.

I kept my eyes on the sidewalk, my feet falling into a rhythm just behind Irene’s. My stomach was full—too full, honestly—but it wasn’t the burger that weighed me down.

It was Alec’s voice.

She’s at practice. She’s trying. That’s more than I can say for half the people who’ve been losing for three seasons straight.

He said that. Out loud. In front of everyone.

And I couldn’t stop replaying it.

Did he mean it?

Or was it just… a way to shut Jessa and the others up?

A defense born out of obligation? Because I live in his house? Because I’m that awkward exchange student everyone’s still not quite sure what to do with?

Or—somehow—did he actually see me?

I don’t know what stung more: the confusion or the fact that I even cared.

We got to the cars. Irene hugged me goodbye, whispering a soft, “You did great today,” before she climbed into Felix’s ride. Mason followed, throwing a peace sign over his shoulder. Others started driving off already after some goodbyes and waves.

Alec unlocked his car without a word.

Of course.

I slid into the passenger seat, clutching the hem of my hoodie in my hands, twisting it as the doors shut. He didn’t start the engine right away. Just sat there, both hands on the wheel, staring out the windshield like it held answers neither of us could find.

I wanted to say something.

Ask why he said what he said.

Ask if he meant it.

Ask if it mattered.

But the words sat in my throat like stones. Heavy. Unshaped.

So I stayed quiet.

He finally turned the key, and the engine hummed to life, filling the space where conversation should have gone. Streetlights streaked across the windows as we pulled out of the parking lot, bathing us in shifting glows. The ride was silent—just like always.

But tonight, that silence was louder than usual.

And in it, my thoughts screamed.

Did he defend me because he believed in me?

Or was I just… a responsibility?

Someone he’s stuck with.

Someone who’d eventually burn out and prove him right.

I bit my lip and stared out the window. The night rolled past us in flashes—storefronts closed for the evening, neighborhoods lit by porchlights and quiet TVs. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. A sprinkling of stars peeked through the suburban haze.

I should’ve felt proud.

I did something. I held my ground. I stood in front of girls who thought I was a joke and didn’t flinch.

But all I could think about was Alec.

And how, just for a second, it felt like he was on my side.

Even though he’s always the first one to tell me I’m not cut out for this.

Even though he’s the one who said I’m not going anywhere with football.

And yet… he stood up for me.

It didn’t make sense. He was a walking contradiction. One minute he’s shutting me down in the car, the next he’s defending me in front of half the team like he’s been in my corner since day one.

I hated how much I wanted to believe he meant it.

We pulled up to the house. The porch light was still on. I reached for the door handle as the engine went quiet.

“Alec,” I said before I could stop myself.

He glanced at me, eyebrows raised slightly.

“…Thanks,” I murmured. “For earlier.”

A beat passed. Maybe two.

Then he nodded once. “Don’t read too much into it.”

My stomach twisted. Of course.

“I didn’t,” I lied.

We stepped out of the car and walked up the steps. The night was cool against my face. Still, the warmth of the diner lingered somewhere deep in my chest, mixing with something far more confusing.

By the time I got to my room, I still wasn’t sure what it meant.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind spinning. The words Alec said didn’t fade like the others. They stayed. Etched into my memory like lines I couldn’t erase.

She’s at practice. She’s trying.

It wasn’t a confession. Or a compliment. Or even encouragement.

But it was something.

And sometimes, something is all it takes to spark the fire again.

Even if you don’t know what it means.

Yet.

The porch light was still on when we stepped inside, the familiar creak of the door echoing into the quiet house. The scent of garlic and butter still lingered faintly in the air—Carla must’ve cooked something good earlier. My stomach was still full from the diner, but just the smell made me pause for a second.

The living room light was dimmed now, and the TV was off. Carla’s voice called out from the kitchen, cheerful and always so full of mom-energy.

“You two already ate?”

“Yeah,” Alec replied, dropping his bag by the stairs. “We’re good.”

“There’s food in the fridge,” she added. “If you change your minds.”

“Thanks, Tita Carla,” I said automatically, still unused to how naturally the word slipped from my mouth. But it felt right.

Then, the sound of small feet hitting the floor—quick, chaotic, unmistakable—rushed toward us.

“Rayaaaa!”

“Kuya Alec!”

Lila and Ethan, both still in pajamas, came barreling out from the hallway like they’d been waiting all night for this moment. I barely had time to react before Lila threw her arms around my waist and Ethan started bombarding Alec with questions at lightning speed.

“Did you win today?” Lila asked me with wide eyes.

“Did you get hurt?” Ethan asked Alec. “Did you do the spin-thing again?”

I laughed, almost stumbling under Lila’s grip. “Win? Oh no, not yet. I’m still learning.”

“But you played, right?” she asked, all hopeful and excited.

“Well… kinda,” I said, scratching the back of my head. “I did drills. And I didn’t fall on my face, so that’s a win.”

Lila gasped. “You’re soooo cool.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “You think?”

“I know,” she said with the confidence only a kid could have.

Ethan, meanwhile, had latched onto Alec’s arm like a monkey. “Kuya, did you get tackled?! Did you jump over someone? You did that one time, remember?”

“Chill,” Alec muttered, but he wasn’t annoyed. Not even close. He knelt down, ruffling Ethan’s hair in that big brother way that felt like second nature.

I watched, stunned, as Alec answered every question.

“Coach let us play a full game today,” he said. “Felix scored. So did Mason. I just passed.”

“Lame,” Ethan teased, grinning up at him.

Alec smirked. “You try passing when Mason’s yelling in your ear.”

Then, something even more unexpected happened.

He picked Ethan up and flung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The kid shrieked with laughter, flailing as Alec spun him once in the air before gently setting him down on the couch.

Lila clapped. “Again! Again!”

“You’ll wake the neighbors,” Carla called from the hallway.

“No, we won’t!” Lila shouted back with a mischievous grin.

I just stood there watching—watching Alec laugh, watching him throw a pillow at Ethan only for it to boomerang back at him, watching his usually unreadable face soften into something entirely different.

This wasn’t the Alec who barely spoke in the car.

This wasn’t the Alec who rolled his eyes every time I mentioned football.

This wasn’t the Alec who told me I wouldn’t go anywhere with it.

This Alec—this older brother version—was warm. Patient. Funny.

And real.

He caught me staring, and for a moment, his smile faltered. Our eyes met. I quickly looked away, trying not to seem obvious, though I was sure the pink had rushed up my cheeks already.

“You don’t have siblings, right?” Alec asked suddenly.

I shook my head. “Only child.”

“You’re lucky.”

Ethan jumped on his back again. “No, she’s not!”

Alec grunted dramatically. “I take it back.”

Lila tugged on my hand. “Do you miss your family?”

I blinked, her question catching me off guard. “Sometimes,” I admitted. “But this… feels close. You know?”

Then I smiled softly, brushing a loose strand behind my ear. “I don’t have brothers or sisters, but I have a lot of cousins back home—like, a lot. And they have kids too, so I’ve got nieces and nephews even though I’m not that old. We’re pretty close. We all live near each other. Sometimes it feels like one big house with too many shoes outside the door and karaoke until midnight.”

Lila giggled at that.

“So I guess… I don’t really feel like an only child. Not in the Filipino kind of way.” I laughed lightly.

Alec looked at me for a moment, almost like he was trying to picture that chaos I just described.

“That sounds loud,” he muttered.

“It is.” I grinned. “But also, kind of perfect.”

She beamed at that, squeezing my fingers.

And somehow, it did feel close.

In that moment, with Carla humming in the background, Lila still hanging onto my hand, Ethan and Alec mock-wrestling on the couch—it felt like something familiar. Something warm.

Something like home.

We all stayed there a bit longer before Carla shooed the kids off to bed. I said goodnight to them both, smiling as they clambered up the stairs still giggling.

Alec and I walked up after them, slower, the weight of the day settling back over our shoulders.

We didn’t talk. But I didn’t mind the quiet this time.

Because that version of Alec—the one I saw with his little brother and sister?

He existed.

And now I knew it.

Which meant, just maybe… there was more to him than I thought.

And maybe… maybe I wasn’t the only one trying to figure things out.