OUR STORY (BxB)

Chapter 7

-AKIRO-

When Tamaro said, 'Now you know what to do if you want to confess your feelings to someone. I'm looking forward to it,' I was stunned. My heart started racing from his words.

Earlier during the shoot, I was honestly caught off guard by what he did. It wasn't in the script for him to grab me and pull me closer. I didn't expect that at all—but I didn't mind it. Being that close to him felt good. I didn't think he'd pull something like that in front of everyone. I may be the youngest in the group, but Tamaro is definitely the baby of Phonix. He's got this quirky charm that sets him apart.

That's actually one of the things I like about him. He's easy to get along with, and people naturally gravitate toward him. Maybe that's why I get a little jealous sometimes. I do like him, but I don't want to say it directly. I'd rather let him feel it in the way I act.

We're already halfway through the year, gearing up for another fan meeting while promoting our new album. Tamaro still has that bright orange hair—it suits him so well. We're on stage, sitting at the signing table, meeting fans and autographing albums. I'm beside him, like always. I never want to leave his side. I feel braver when he's next to me.

There was a microphone right in front of us, and Tamaro picked it up without hesitation. Then he started singing while looking straight at me. The lyrics went, "I have something to tell you" and "Hey there, I like you." I couldn't help but giggle, even with all the fans watching. It felt like he was confessing right then and there.

After the fan meet, we returned to the company for a meeting about our upcoming shows and projects. We can't call ourselves successful yet—we're still new, still growing, and still working hard to get where we want to be. The staff mentioned we'd be celebrating our group's anniversary soon. They're calling it "Anniversary Fiesta," and it'll be our first one as idols.

Stephen explained the activity. He had gathered letters written by the members and staff, and we were supposed to read them aloud and guess who wrote each one. Jemuel went first, and the second letter threw me off completely.

"Don't touch thighs, you perv," he read.

Renz burst into laughter, asking, "Whose thigh?"

I turned toward Tamaro just in time to see him stand up and raise his hand. Turns out, he was the one who wrote it—to Jemuel. But then, I couldn't help but wonder... if he's not comfortable with it, why does he let me do it? I tried not to dwell on it too much since we were filming, but focusing was tough—especially with Tamaro sitting right next to me.

He was being flirty again—resting his arm around my shoulder, playing with my hair and ear, even sneaking a kiss near my ear. I didn't react, not because I didn't notice, but because I've gotten used to it. He does this often. Sometimes he even bites gently, and as strange as it sounds, I don't mind. I like the way he treats me—it's confusing, but I like it.

While everyone was chatting, I had an idea. I wanted to test something. If I placed my hand on his thigh, would he push it away? I waited for the right moment. When I finally reached out, I not only held his thigh—I gave it a gentle squish.

And... nothing.

He didn't flinch, didn't stop me. I smiled quietly to myself, because maybe—just maybe—I'm the only one he lets get away with things like this.

The Fiesta shoot had wrapped, and it was time to say goodbye to the fans. All of us felt proud—there was real progress in our journey. I made a silent wish: that we'd win awards on every music show in the Philippines someday.

Before heading home, we had a small dinner with the staff to celebrate our first anniversary. The older members were drinking, but Tamaro and I stuck to wine—he likes it, and I'm still a minor.

We ended up sitting away from the rest of them, who were busy chatting and drinking. I had my banana milk, and Tamaro held his wine glass. We were in the veranda of Mr. William's apartment. It was a cozy spot—we couldn't have the celebration at the company since it's too small.

Watching the moon together had become something of a tradition for the two of us. Tonight, under the dim light of the veranda and with music booming from inside, it felt familiar and comforting.

"Tamaro, why did you call Jemuel a perv?" I asked, laughing softly.

He laughed too. "I just wanted to tease him."

"I thought you didn't like anyone touching your thigh," I said, sipping my banana milk.

Tamaro turned to face me, and I froze. He was close—too close. His face was only an inch away from mine. I widened my eyes, locked onto his gaze.

"To be honest, I don't," he replied with a smirk. "But you're an exception."

"T-Tamaro?" I stammered, my heart racing. He didn't move back. His face stayed right there, right in front of mine.

Then suddenly, his lips brushed mine. It lasted only a second, but I swear my heart almost burst out of my chest. He leaned back slightly, still looking at me.

"W-Why did you kiss me?" I managed to ask.

"What do you think?" he said, eyes serious now.

I hesitated. "People don't do that if it means nothing..."

He tilted his head slightly. "Maybe you're thinking I like you. Okay, I won't deny it."

"T-Tamaro?"

"But I won't confirm it either."

What does that even mean? I stared at him, a little annoyed, eyebrows raised sharply. He laughed quietly in response—soft and teasing.

"Look, baby," he said with a small smile. "If I deny it, you'll think I'm lying. But if I confirm it, you might pull away from me. So... I'm giving you no exact answer."

I was speechless. His words didn't even register right away. And maybe it's true—Tamaro really is a genius in his own, confusing way. But no matter how clever his reasoning, I can't deny how much I want him to like me. I'm hoping, even if I'm afraid to admit it.

Everything felt normal—until that kiss.

Now I get nervous every time we make eye contact. I've spent nights tossing and turning, unable to sleep, just replaying his words over and over in my head. He won't confirm that he likes me, but he won't deny it either? What kind of twisted game is that? He acts like nothing's changed, but for me, everything has.

Yes, I like him. But I don't know if I'm ready for this. Maybe I'm too young for feelings that hit this hard.

I snapped back to reality when Joshua called me over—we had to board the plane. Last week, Mr. William told us we'd be traveling abroad to study hip-hop, and now here we are, standing at the airport.

Honestly, none of us know what to expect in another country. As we got settled on the plane, Tamaro took the seat beside me. I turned to look out the window, telling myself not to dwell on the past.

Focus on work. Just focus.

When we arrived at the airport in Australia, a van was already waiting to pick us up. Our manager was with us, and—as always—Tamaro sat right beside me. The ride was quiet, probably because we were all exhausted from the flight.

Eventually, the van stopped and Mr. Brandon and the driver stepped out for a moment. That left seven of us alone inside. While we were waiting, a few large men suddenly climbed into the van and drove off quickly.

A rush of emotions hit me all at once—nervousness, fear, confusion. I wanted to cry, but Tamaro reached out and gently squeezed my hand. I was shaking, barely able to hold myself together.

They took us to what looked like an abandoned apartment and sat us down on a worn-out sofa. The men started shouting, but I couldn't understand any of it. They were speaking in English, and everything was happening so fast.

I began crying, overwhelmed by the fear. Thoughts of my parents filled my mind—would they know if something happened to me? What if this was the end? I shouldn't have been thinking those things, but I couldn't help it.

The other members were quiet, eerily composed. I couldn't read their emotions. They were good at hiding what they felt—especially Tamaro. Stephen looked unfazed. Only Harly showed any visible fear.

After several long, tense minutes, a TV suddenly turned on. A voice explained everything: it was a prank.

We were part of a reality show called Australia Hip-hop Life. It was a test, one we had to pass. The staff would be teaching us the fundamentals of hip-hop, its theory, and how to apply it in performance.

During our first few days in Australia, the trainers were strict. Their words were often harsh, but we chose to take them as motivation. We used that challenge to grow stronger.

Still, I couldn't help but feel shy, especially in front of crowds. I often stayed behind Tamaro, like when we had a mini free concert and were tasked with handing out flyers. Being in a foreign country with a language we barely understood made communication hard. I wasn't used to approaching strangers—but Tamaro? I was amazed by his confidence. He didn't hesitate. He smiled, spoke, and handed out flyers like it was second nature.

The concert turned out to be a success. Tamaro and I were teamed with Stephen for one of the performances, and watching Tamaro on stage was something else. His expressions were magnetic—he knew how to own the moment. Because of that show, we gained our first foreign fans. It was a small start, but it meant everything.

Now we're preparing to head back to the Philippines. Things have gotten busy again, especially with the filming of our next music video. We're shooting at a private villa, and this time we have foreign girls featured in the MV. Their outfits are bold and revealing, a contrast to what we're used to.

I stepped outside the villa and walked near the pool, enjoying a moment of quiet. That's when one of the staff members approached me.

After the staff spoke to me, I glanced back inside the villa. There was Tamaro, casually flirting with the girls on set. I didn't want to admit it, but I felt bad. Just the other day, he kissed me—and now it was like that meant nothing. Had I imagined its importance? One glance at someone new and suddenly I didn't exist.

I've never been in a serious relationship. And honestly, I don't plan on having a girlfriend. A boyfriend, maybe—but even that still feels uncertain.

When Tamaro stepped outside, I walked up to him, planning to tease. But it turns out, I misjudged the moment.

"What? You've been teasing me nonstop? You're getting annoying," he said, his voice raised just slightly. He was smiling, but the words stung.

I smiled too, not wanting to show I was hurt. I laughed softly, then turned away. My smile faded as soon as he couldn't see my face. Thankfully, the courtyard was quiet—most of the crew was still inside, prepping for the shoot.

I wasn't sure why I felt so shaken. Maybe it's because I'd gotten used to being his focus. Had I gone too far trying to hold his attention?

Suddenly, my eyes welled up and tears started to fall. I walked away quickly, slipping my earphones in to block out the sound of him calling after me.

I walked around the back of the villa and spotted a narrow staircase leading to the rooftop. I climbed up slowly, needing space—needing air. My chest still felt tight from earlier. It was hard to shake the feeling that Tamaro had been playing with my emotions. Just days ago, he kissed me. Now he barely seemed to care.

From the rooftop, I looked out at the trees circling the villa. The music playing in my earphones matched the mood perfectly—soft, melancholic, dramatic. I closed my eyes for a moment, and the tears came again, quietly.

I checked the time. Fifteen minutes left before the shoot resumed. I wiped my eyes, inhaled deeply, and straightened myself. No one could know I'd been crying—especially not the reason why.

When I turned to head back, I froze.

Tamaro was standing right in front of me.

I swear, my heart stopped. With the light hitting him just right and the rooftop breeze lifting his hair ever so slightly, he didn't look real. He looked like something out of a story—like a goddess, like a dream.

"T-Tamaro? Were you here the whole time?" I asked, startled.

He didn't say anything at first. Just nodded.

Then he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. My entire body stiffened from shock.

"Sorry," he whispered gently near my ear, holding me close.

I barely managed to whisper his name. "T-Tamaro?"

And then—he kissed me on the cheek.

He didn't pull away. Instead, he took my hand in his. Warm, steady. Like nothing had broken between us at all.

"Come on. They're looking for us," he said, tugging my hand as we headed down the rooftop stairs.

I didn't say anything. Everything was happening too fast.

He hugged me, said sorry, kissed my cheek, held my hand—and now he's acting like nothing happened?

How am I supposed to process that?

I felt like my thoughts were caught in a blender. Every time I thought I understood Tamaro, he twisted my heart in a new direction. He's kind, soft, unpredictable. One moment, he makes me feel seen—like I'm the only person who matters. The next, he's surrounded by others and barely notices I'm there.

That cheek kiss... what did it mean? Was it an apology, a comfort, or something more?

No confirmation. No explanation. Just silence and sweet gestures that confuse me even further.

And here I am, trailing behind him like nothing's wrong—like I'm not on the verge of losing my grip on my own emotions.

-TAMARO-

I really believe Akiro likes me. If he didn't, he would've pulled away—distanced himself after I kissed him. But he didn't. Still, I was so nervous in that moment. Even I surprised myself with what I did.

I never let him see how affected I was. But the truth? My heart feels like it's going to burst every time I think about that kiss. I can still feel the softness of his lips—hauntingly real, like it happened seconds ago instead of days.

We never talked about it. Neither of us was willing to be the first to bring it up. So, we carried on as if nothing happened, slipping back into our usual rhythm. Normal, but not really.

During our time in Australia studying hip-hop, we learned a lot. But for me, something deeper shifted—my feelings for him grew stronger. You know that aching feeling when you want to tell someone how you feel, but you hold it back out of fear? Not fear for yourself, but fear of hurting them.

I've braced myself for hurtful words before—I know how to deal with them. But Akiro? I couldn't stand the idea that he might suffer because of my feelings. That's what keeps me quiet.

Now we're back home, the whirlwind beginning again. Interviews, appearances, back-to-back schedules. We're exhausted—spending fourteen hours in the practice room with barely any sleep. But we still show up. Because this is only the beginning. We're P-pop artists now, and everything we do is being watched.

Being a new group in the P-pop industry has its weight. We're often overlooked, sometimes even ridiculed by veteran artists. I still remember when we were invited to attend an award show—only to find out we weren't nominated for anything. The embarrassment was sharp. We went home angry. Some of the members cried over how we were treated. But that night became fuel. A silent promise to rise above.

I used that drive to ignore my feelings for Akiro, too.

But fate has a strange way of tying knots around us. Neither of us ever confessed. Still, what we shared lingered somewhere beyond friendship. We'd get jealous—quiet, subtle, sharp—whenever someone else got too close. Whenever attention shifted. And even without words, it felt like there was something there.

I always stayed silent when jealousy crept in. If he didn't pay much attention to me, I withdrew, pretending it didn't bother me. But it did. He hated being ignored. I could tell.

And maybe that's why I kept holding back. I'm older. So I convinced myself I had to be the one who controlled the emotion. Who protected him from whatever might come with the truth.

We were in the dressing room, waiting for the award show to begin. The atmosphere was tense—not loud, not excited, just quietly buzzing. Akiro and I barely interacted. Stephen had reminded us earlier to keep things professional, to be careful with our actions. It was a big show, and scrutiny came easy. Cameras were everywhere, even when we forgot they were watching.

We spoke, but only at a distance. It felt unnatural. I wasn't used to this version of us—no subtle touches, no closeness, just space. That invisible gap between us said more than words could. Then we were called. It was time.

As we stepped into the arena, the crowd erupted. We had fans, but nothing compared to the sea of support other artists were swimming in. Still, that roar—however modest—meant something.

One by one, performers took the stage. Then it was our turn.

We gave everything. Every movement, every note. It wasn't perfect, but it was real. And for a few moments, the crowd leaned in. They looked. They listened. We made them see us.

After the award presentation, all the artists were asked to come up on stage. I stood between Stephen and Jemuel, purposely keeping some distance from Akiro. I hadn't forgotten what Stephen had told us earlier: this was a major event, and we had to be mindful of our actions. Cameras were everywhere—even when we tried to forget they existed.

Akiro still insisted on standing near me. He hovered behind as I laughed and chatted with Stephen, clearly restless and trying to draw my attention. I stayed focused on my conversation, refusing to acknowledge him.

Then, out of nowhere, someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around and saw Akiro, casually holding out his hand. I let it drop and turned away, choosing to ignore him.

A moment later, Jemuel shifted, and I glanced back again—instantly regretting it. Akiro had placed his arm around Jemuel, resting his chin on his shoulder like it meant nothing.

It hit me hard.

That should've been me next to him. Not Jemuel.

Our eyes met. I gave him a sharp look. He quickly dropped his arm from Jemuel's shoulder, pretending to stretch—except his hand landed lightly on my back. I turned again, catching the gesture just as Stephen noticed. Without hesitation, Stephen walked up and nudged Akiro's elbow away.

Akiro sighed and stepped back.

I glanced at him one last time and saw him quietly move to sit beside Harly. I don't know if that meant retreat or surrender, but it still stung.

Even though jealousy stirred inside me, what really caught me off guard was the hurt. I saw it—clear as day—on Akiro's face. He looked disappointed. I chose to ignore it, at least for now. There were too many people, too many cameras watching. One wrong move from either of us, and it could cause a ripple we couldn't control.

After the show, we headed backstage to prepare to leave. We still weren't speaking, but I felt his gaze on me—quiet, constant. I didn't know what was going through his mind. A part of me wanted to reach out and hold his hand, like I always did. But I couldn't. Not yet.

When it was time to board the van back to the dorm, I got on last. The only empty seat left was beside him. The others were caught up in their own conversations, laughter and chatter filling the space. I had no choice but to sit next to him.

He was staring out the window when I slid into the seat. The moment he turned and saw me, our eyes met.

And just like that, the world faded. Whatever anyone else was saying inside the van became a blur. All I could hear was the pounding of my own heart.

We stared at each other for a few seconds, caught in silence. The van jerked forward, snapping us both out of it. I sat down properly, and so did he. I glanced down and noticed he was rubbing his hand—restless, fidgety. He seemed nervous.

Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed his hand.

He flinched, surprised, his eyes shifting quickly to me. I didn't look at him right away, but when I did, I gave him a small smile. He was still blinking through the surprise.

"T-Tamaro... aren't you mad at me?" he asked, voice soft and unsure.

"I'm not mad," I said gently. "I was just jealous... of you hanging out with Jemuel. I'm sorry."

We kept our voices low. The other members didn't interrupt—they knew our rhythm by now.

"Sorry, Tamaro," he murmured, lips pressing into a pout. "I just wanted to be near you... but Stephen and Jemuel were already there."

"Don't worry about that," I whispered. "I just don't like it when someone else hugs you."

Then I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes.

He didn't say anything—but a moment later, I felt him lean in and rest his head lightly against mine.

We fight sometimes, but it never lasts. Things always smooth out quickly—maybe that's what loving someone feels like. You can't stay mad for long.

With time, my feelings for Akiro only deepened. I knew I shouldn't feel this way—it's not accepted in our country, and our contract clearly states we aren't allowed to be in a relationship. But being around him every single day made it impossible to ignore what I felt.

Loving Akiro isn't difficult. He's kind, thoughtful, respectful. He makes people feel safe. I never imagined I'd fall for a guy—but something about him... he became special to me without trying.

Tonight, it's just the two of us in the dorm. The others are out—either working or caught up in personal errands. Akiro and I are sitting in the living room, playing computer games. My heart's pounding. I've already made my decision.

Without looking away from the monitor, I speak up. "Akiro... what if I say I like you? What would you do?"

He doesn't reply, but I catch him turning sharply to me in my peripheral vision, eyes wide with surprise. His mouth hangs open slightly. I set the controller down and face him directly, my own heart stuck somewhere between panic and hope.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"I like you, Akiro," I said, serious and steady, locking eyes with him. I saw his throat move as he swallowed hard.

"T-Tamaro... are you serious?" he replied, clearly shaken.

"You think I'm joking?"

"But... you know it's not allowed. And we're both men."

"You mean... you like me too?" I said, surprised. He looked away and reached for his ear—something I'd seen him do a hundred times when he was flustered.

I gently took his hand, and he looked up at me. I stared at him quietly, my heart swelling. I already felt it, but I needed him to say it. Needed to hear it for myself.

"I'm asking you—do you like me too?" My voice trembled, eyes glistening.

He didn't answer right away. He nodded. Head bowed.

"Akiro... look at me," I whispered through tears.

He lifted his gaze, eyes just as wet as mine. He bit his lip, struggling, but then—

"I like you too, Tamaro. I thought what I felt was just brotherly love, but I was wrong. You're more than that to me."

I was overwhelmed with joy hearing those words from him. I hugged him without hesitation—and he hugged me back. We both cried, finally knowing that we felt the same way.

We'd been together for five years since our training days, and I had finally found the courage to confess. For so long, I wasn't even sure what I truly felt. All I knew was that I kept showing him how special he was to me.

I gently pulled away from his arms, looked into his eyes, and smiled. He was still crying, so I reached up and wiped away his tears.

"I promise to protect you from everything," I said through tears. "And I will love you so much."

I kissed him on the forehead. His eyes fluttered shut. Akiro was nineteen when we entered this relationship, and I was twenty-one. We were still young—but we didn't care.

It was January when everything became official.

You know, in the Philippines, relationships don't always start with formal courtship. Sometimes, when two people confess how they feel and choose to be together, that's already the beginning of the relationship. Courting happens during the relationship—not before. So today... today is our first official date.

We hadn't told the other members yet. We were scared—scared of being scolded, separated. What we were doing felt like a mistake, especially in a country where this kind of relationship is still taboo. But Akiro and I made up our minds: if it's a mistake, it's one we'll face together. Because we already love each other.

After just a month, everything between us began to feel natural. Hugging, linking arms—it wasn't forced, it was just... us. We noticed the others watching sometimes, sensing that maybe they suspected something. But no one said anything. Not yet.

We decided to tell Joshua and Stephen first. They're like older brothers to us, and we trust them more than anyone else right now. We need their guidance, not just as members of the group but as people who've seen more of the world than we have.

This is all new. Our first relationship. We're still learning how to navigate this—what it means to be together while balancing the pressures around us. We're adjusting. Quietly, but with hope.