OUR STORY (BxB)

Chapter 22

-TAMARO-

"JOSHUA!!" we both shouted, voices overlapping in disbelief.

Who would've thought?

Of all the people, Joshua—grinning at our doorway with a backpack slung over his shoulder and zero explanation—stood in front of us like he belonged there.

My pulse quickened.

Roo looked at me. I looked back. Confusion danced between us, but beneath mine was something heavier. Anxious.

He wouldn't come all the way to Palawan for nothing. Not unless it was important.

The way he smiled didn't ease it. If anything, it felt rehearsed—too wide, too calm. I knew him too well. Knew when he was holding something back.

In this quiet hotel, after all our planning and secrecy, everything tilted just slightly. Something was about to shift. I could feel it.

"You don't have a plan to let me in?" Joshua asked, his tone somewhere between annoyed and amused.

Roo and I just blinked—still stunned. The knock, the timing, the fact that he was here... it short-circuited us. We'd completely forgotten to open the door.

"Ohh—come in, bro," we said, finally stepping aside to let him through.

Joshua walked in like he owned the room, backpack bouncing as he passed us. Roo and I shared a glance—smiles tugging at our lips. I think we were thinking the exact same thing.

We didn't ask how he knew the room number. We didn't need to.

They'd asked us for every detail before we left. Maybe we should've known this wasn't going to be a completely private escape. But still... this?

Joshua dropped himself onto the single sofa, stretching like it had been waiting for him all day.

Roo and I sat beside each other on the edge of the bed, looking at him, confusion written all over our faces.

He just smiled. And in that silence, I think we both realized... This trip might have changed shape again.

"I know you're surprised I'm here," Joshua said, his tone stripped of its usual mischief.

Roo and I quieted immediately. No teasing. No laughter. Just the weight of his voice. He drew a breath—deep, steadying—and continued.

"I volunteered to follow you in the middle of the night because... we're worried." My chest tightened.

"We got a call. Press people are trailing you two here in Palawan. They don't know where you're staying—yet. But someone recognized you at the airport."

The room shifted. Roo and I glanced at each other, and I reached for his hand instinctively. His skin was cold.

Not stage-fright cold. Not sea-breeze cold.

But the kind that settles in when fear slips past the heart's defenses.

I gripped his hand tighter, silently letting him know—whatever came next, we'd face it together.

Joshua sat with his elbows on his knees, gaze steady. "I just couldn't let you handle this alone."

"We don't want to interfere with your trip," Joshua said, voice low but firm. "But we need to protect both of you. If someone sees you here—just the two of you—it could turn into a scandal."

He paused, eyes flickering between us.

"That's why I came all the way here. If press catches anything, they'll think this trip is for the three of us."

His words weren't sharp. They were heavy. We looked at him—and in his face, we saw it. Not judgment. Not frustration.

Worry.

Pure and simple. The kind that comes from love layered with responsibility. Roo and I didn't speak right away. Because how could we?

We understood. We really did. The members had always looked out for us—from rehearsals to heartbreaks to headlines.

And it's true. We're the youngest. Sometimes protected. Sometimes watched too closely. Always cared for.

So, we didn't blame them.

We just held the silence gently and let Joshua's presence remind us:

Even in love, we're never really alone.

"I'll stay here with you," Joshua said, voice steady, no room for negotiation. "We'll go back to Manila together. And if you want to stroll tomorrow—I'm coming with you."

It wasn't a suggestion. It was a shield.

In this moment, Roo and I both knew—we couldn't say no.

This wasn't just about company rules or media whispers. It was about loyalty.

About how far family will go to protect what matters.

"We understand, bro," I said quietly, trying to mask the worry tightening in my chest. "Thank you for coming here with us."

Joshua gave a small nod, but I saw it—the concern etched into his features, the way his fingers tapped restlessly against his knee.

He wasn't here just to supervise. He was here because we were loved.

And somewhere between the plans we made and the trip we thought would be ours alone, that love stepped in and re-wrote the script.

We needed to be careful.

The consequences of one impulsive choice could ripple outward, touching not just us, but the group. And we were just beginning—just starting to be seen, to be heard beyond borders. It wasn't fear that tightened around my chest. It was accountability. The ache of knowing that love must also learn restraint.

We talked in soft voices, letting the silence between sentences speak for what neither of us dared name aloud. Then, finally, we turned off the lights and let the stillness settle.

Joshua was asleep on the sofa already, his soft snore like a reminder: someone was watching over us. Even now. Even here.

I couldn't sleep.

Thoughts spun quietly in my head—what Manila would bring, what the press might say, what stares we'd meet back at rehearsals. What we'd be asked to deny. What we'd still choose to hold close.

I wrapped my arms around Akiro from behind, needing to feel his presence steady me.

And just when I thought he was asleep, he reached for my hand—pulled it gently—and kissed it.

That single gesture broke something tender inside me.

Not words. Not promises. Just trust—folded into a kiss.

"Roo, I know you're not sleeping yet," he whispered into the dark. I didn't answer right away—just buried my face into the curve of his nape, breathing him in.

"Baby, I was just thinking about what will happen to us when we're back in Manila tomorrow." He turned around slowly, eyes meeting mine, gentle and trembling.

"Roo... everything will be okay. You'll hold my hand, right?" His voice cracked at the edges. Teary. Honest.

I leaned in and kissed his forehead. He closed his eyes as if that touch could shield him from everything else.

"I'll always hold your hand, baby. You know I won't let you go."

He smiled faintly, like he was clinging to the truth of it.

"We'll surpass this. I know we will. I love you."

"I love you more, baby," I whispered, arms wrapping tighter around him—until there was no more distance, no more fear. Just the quiet promise that whatever waited in the spotlight, this love would not flicker.

The next day came.

We decided to stroll once more before returning to Manila—just a few last steps through Palawan's quiet streets, soaking in what remained.

Joshua walked behind us, like a watchful mom trailing two unruly kids. His pace was steady, his eyes scanning everything, but his presence didn't feel like surveillance. It felt like care.

We didn't mind if someone saw us anymore. Not today.

Because Joshua was here, and that changed everything. He made space for us to be ourselves—even in public. Even in love.

We stopped for lunch before heading back to the hotel. The food was warm, the conversation light, and every minute felt like it was stretching—giving us time we hadn't asked for, but deeply needed.

This afternoon, we'll leave. But this trip... it gave us more than memories.

It gave us reminders: of chosen family, of love under pressure, of what it means to be protected and still free.

"Mr. William wants to meet you when we come back," Joshua said, voice calm but edged in seriousness.

Roo and I froze.

I looked at him—and saw it instantly. That flicker of nerves in his eyes. The tightening breath. So, did I.

"Why, bro?" I asked, unable to mask the worry in my tone.

"I don't know," Joshua admitted. "You'll find out when you talk to him."

Roo and I shared another glance, and together, we inhaled—deep, steady. Trying to fold our nerves into something we could carry.

Joshua smiled then. Soft. Real.

"Don't worry. Mr. William will protect you."

His words held weight. Maybe not certainty—but kindness.

After lunch, we returned to the hotel in quiet. Packed slowly. No longer carefree, but deliberate.

And as we zipped our bags and looked out at the last sun-kissed view of Palawan, the stillness of our memories brushed against the noise waiting back in Manila.

The vacation was over.

Now came the next chapter. Not just of music. Not just of fame.

But of truth. Of holding hands in the spotlight. Of trusting love to stand its ground—even when reality tries to shake it.

Joshua never left our side.

He stayed with us until we reached the dorm, his presence a quiet anchor in a whirlwind we hadn't fully escaped. As soon as we stepped through the door, the other members were there—waiting. Their expressions held worry dressed as welcome.

Jemuel came to us first, arms wide. He hugged me and Akiro tightly, lingering longer than usual.

"Are you both okay? Did you enjoy your trip?" he asked, smiling—but the worry was threaded into every word.

"Yes, we did enjoy, Jemuel," I said, offering a small smile back. One that meant: thank you for caring. For waiting. For holding space for us.

We sat in the living room, a quiet gravity drawing all of us into circle.

Stephen spoke up, calm but firm. "From now on, you both need to be careful. The media's tailing you. Everything matters now."

"We will, bro," I nodded, glancing at Akiro beside me. His eyes met mine—steady, soft, holding onto the promise we made in Palawan.

Then, we rested. Not deeply. Just enough to breathe, to pull our thoughts together.

When it was time to go to the company, the members didn't let us walk alone. They came with us—unwavering, silent guardians in street clothes. Their presence spoke what words couldn't:

We're here. We won't let you face this alone.

Mr. William was waiting. The next chapter had already begun.

We sat at the long conference table, the air-conditioned room too cold for how warm my palm felt against Akiro's. Mr. William sat at the center; fingers laced over a folder he hadn't opened.

His face was serious—too serious. My pulse quickened.

I squeezed Akiro's hand beneath the table. He was already holding mine like he needed it just to breathe.

"I think you already know why I called you both here," Mr. William began, eyes scanning our faces slowly.

"Mr. William," I spoke carefully, "we didn't know someone would recognize us. I'm sorry."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you sorry?" he said calmly. "You're idols. Everyone's watching. Everyone wants the story." Then he leaned back, voice lower now.

"Media Patch already knows about the two of you. We're in talks with them—trying to keep the tea from boiling over." A hush fell across the table.

Even the members looked stunned. Stephen blinked slowly. Jemuel leaned forward slightly, mouth parted but silent.

"What's your plan, Mr. William?" Renz asked, steady but sharp. Mr. William took a long breath—then looked directly at us.

"From now on, you both can't go outside alone," Mr. William said firmly, eyes steady as they scanned our faces. "You need to have a companion from the members. I need to protect you. I don't want either of you receiving hate. I hope you understand."

The room stayed silent. I didn't know what to say.

Part of me understood—truly. This industry didn't forgive easily, and love outside scripts was rarely granted peace. Mr. William had always looked out for us, even when he spoke like a CEO instead of a father figure.

But there was another part of me—quiet, burning.

The part that longed for freedom in its purest form. Not just the freedom to love, but to walk with him down a street without feeling like we needed armor.

I looked at Akiro. He was already watching me, worry flickering across his features like a soft shadow. And then I made my choice.

If this is the way I can protect him—even if it means walking with eyes behind us—I'll do it.

I squeezed his hand under the table. For now, love would stay shielded in silence. But it would still walk forward.

"And one more thing," Mr. William continued, voice clipped. "Even in backstage areas or during guest appearances—you can't sit together."

I felt heat rise in my chest. That was too much.

"Mr. William, that's... that's too much," I burst out, unable to hold back the frustration. Stephen leaned in, voice calm but firm. "Is it really necessary?"

Mr. William looked around the table, gaze heavy with decision—not negotiation.

"Yes," he said. "And that's final." Then he stood, left the room without another word.

I ran my hand through my hair, trying to shake off the weight settling on my shoulders.

Why does it always feel like the world is against us? Why does happiness have to be hidden like it's something shameful?

Renz came closer, patting my back gently.

"If you want to continue your relationship," he said, voice low but filled with care, "you need to be careful. You have to follow what's best—not just for you, but for the group."

I didn't respond. Not because I disagreed. But because somewhere inside me, I understood.

They weren't trying to erase us. They were trying to shield us. Even if the shield felt like a cage.

And maybe—for now—we'd follow the rules. We'd sit apart. Speak less. Pretend more.

But someday, I hope this love will be allowed to breathe in public.

Not just survive. But be seen.

The fanservice between Jemuel and Akiro continued, just as Mr. William had instructed. But I didn't care about the company's policies. What mattered most to me was Akiro.

Mr. William often spoke to me privately, without Akiro knowing, and I'd been scolded more than once.

To cope with the frustration, I spent time with a few artist friends. They had no idea what was going on—I never shared. I didn't want anyone else to be dragged into it.

Whenever there was a fanservice moment between Jemuel and Akiro, I made sure Akiro and I had a sweet moment too. It was subtle, intentional. My way of reminding him—and maybe myself—that what we have is real.

When the company gave us a one-week vacation, I went home to Cebu for a day. Akiro went back to Davao.

My siblings still haven't spoken to me. I know they need time, and I've come to accept that. My parents told me they're trying to help them understand, but nothing has changed yet.

I returned to Manila carrying that weight. Things with my siblings are still unresolved, but I've kept it from Akiro. I know how much it would hurt him, and I don't want that burden to reach him.

We're back on our World Tour now, and despite everything, there have been so many sweet moments between me and Akiro. I'm not going to miss any chance to show the truth—even if it's just through subtle hints that what we have is real.

The Tamakiro ship was growing louder in the media. People kept talking about how sweet we looked in every photo and performance.

Right now, our biggest concern was Media Patch. They kept posting our pictures and dropping hints. The company was still negotiating with them, trying to keep things under control.

After the World Tour, the company gave us another two-week break. All the members went home to their families.

This time, I decided to stay longer with mine. I want to make sure that when I return to Manila, my siblings will have come to accept us.

I sent a message to Akiro randomly—but my focus was on spending time with my siblings. I wanted them to feel that, despite my relationship with Akiro, they still mattered to me. That nothing had changed between us.

Even though I wanted to talk to him every day, I tried to ignore the urge. It wasn't easy.

It hurt to keep my distance.

But I endured it—because I believed that once this break was over and I returned to Manila, things with my siblings would finally be okay.

It was a normal morning at home. My mom was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. My siblings were still asleep when I walked in.

I hugged her from behind and kissed her cheek.

"Good morning, Mom," I said. These quiet moments—this warmth—were the things I missed most whenever I was in Cebu.

"Good morning, Tamaro," she replied gently.

I paused for a moment, then asked, "Mom... do you think they'll accept us?" I was talking about my siblings.

She turned slightly, her voice steady. "Tamaro, they love you—and you know that. They will accept you. I'm sure of it."

Her words gave me strength.

For the first time in a while, I felt ready to talk to them.

We were living under the same roof, but we hadn't spoken.

Being ignored by them hurt, but I knew I had to get through it if I wanted their acceptance. I wasn't angry—I understood them.

It took all my courage to try again.

They were in their room, working on homework. I knocked on the door and stepped inside.

"Brother will come in, huh?" I spoke.

I sat down on the edge of the bed. They turned to face me.

And in that moment, I saw it—longing in their eyes.

"Brother, I miss you so much," I said, and they both rushed to hug me, tears falling freely.

The moment their arms wrapped around me, I broke down. My own tears followed instantly.

We didn't say anything else. The hug said it all—louder than words ever could.

We stayed like that for a while, sobbing quietly in each other's arms. I missed them more than I could admit. They were still young, still learning, and I knew they needed understanding. That's exactly what I chose to give.

"We're sorry," my brother said through his tears. "We got mad at you... but Mom and Dad helped us understand. We're sorry for making it hard."

I gently wiped their tears and kissed them both on the forehead.

"You don't need to say sorry. What you felt was normal," I said gently, holding them close. "I understand both of you. You know I love you so much."

I hugged them again, tighter this time.

Finally... things were okay between us.

There was relief in the silence. No tension, no distance—just the warmth of reconciliation.

And now, with that weight lifted, I could go back to Manila carrying something hopeful.

Good news for Akiro. I wanted to surprise him.

Let him see that the love we've fought for is slowly being accepted—step by step, heart by heart.

I told Jemuel about my plan to bring my family to China. I want to reconnect with my siblings—just as I promised them.

I didn't mention it to Akiro because I want to explain everything in person once I'm back in Manila. I know he'll understand.

I reached out to Mr. William to ask for permission and support for the trip. He agreed to it and offered his help.

When we arrived in China, I didn't have time to check my phone. I was busy strolling around with my siblings. This trip was special—a rare chance to focus on family—so I gave it my full attention.

After dinner, my mom and I stopped by Zara. I wanted to buy her something. My siblings and dad were walking around nearby.

While I waited at the counter for my mom to finish paying, I finally picked up my phone.

There were thirty missed calls from Akiro. Twenty unread messages.

And one message from Mr. William.

I opened his first. What he said nearly made me drop my phone.

Message from Mr. William:

"Akiro will follow you to China with Jemuel. He begged me to let him go.

You know you're not allowed to be seen together—media attention is on both of you.

As part of the agreement, he'll create a GCF with Jemuel.

I'm sorry, but I did this to protect you both."

I froze for a moment, trying to collect myself when my mom approached me. I wanted to break down, but I couldn't. This trip was for my family, and I didn't want to ruin it.

I didn't open Akiro's messages. I just turned off my phone and tried to ignore everything I'd seen.

When we got back to the hotel, I told them I was tired and wanted to rest.

I went straight to my room, locked the door, and let it all out.

The frustration I'd been holding in hit me all at once. I buried my face in the pillow, doing my best not to make a sound.

I'm hurt. Why did Akiro let this happen?

All this time, I've been thinking about him. I've done everything I could to help my siblings accept us. Every effort I made was for him—for us.

Why couldn't he wait for me to come home?

He shouldn't have come here with Jemuel. That trip was supposed to be ours, the three of us together. He knew that.

I finally gained my siblings' acceptance, and now he's here—filming a GCF with Jemuel.

Why couldn't he wait for that moment?

When the GCF gets posted, the ship war will explode. Everyone will start talking, guessing, twisting things.

And I'll be the one holding it all in.

I endured it all. The longing. The silence.

The ache of holding back when all I wanted was to hear his voice.

And after everything... he chose to follow me here—with Jemuel.

It was impulsive. It wasn't part of my plan.

I opened my phone and saw a message from Jemuel:

From Jemuel:

"Tamaro, Akiro begged me to follow you to China."

I didn't respond. I just wiped my tears and shut my eyes.

All the surprises I had prepared for Akiro—every moment I imagined sharing with him—were ruined.

Because of his decision.

And the thought of him spending this trip with Jemuel, side by side, while I'm here feeling like this... It breaks me into pieces.