Ten Years Unsaid

Chapter Six

The room smelled like antiseptic malinis ,tahimik walang emosyon.

Machines hummed softly in the background, each beep steady, consistent—parang walang pakialam sa bigat ng nangyayari sa loob ng kwartong iyon.

Kael hadn’t moved.

Hindi niya alam kung gaano na siya katagal doon.

Minutes? Hours?

All he knew was nandito pa rin siya.

Still sitting beside Johan still holding his hand still waiting.

“…Ang kulit mo talaga,” he murmured, voice hoarse from lack of sleep.

His thumb brushed lightly against Johan’s knuckles—gentle, careful, almost afraid.

“Hindi ka na gumising, ah.”

He tried to sound normal.

Tried to make it sound like one of their usual conversations.

But it wasn’t.

Nothing about this was normal.

His eyes traced Johan’s face.

Pale.

Still.

Too quiet.

“…Pre,” Kael whispered, leaning slightly closer. “Hindi ako sanay na ikaw yung tahimik."

No response.

Just the soft beeping of machines.

Kael let out a slow breath, resting his elbows on his knees, still not letting go.

“Ang unfair mo naman,” he added quietly. “Ikaw lagi may last say.”

Silence.

Then—

A faint movement.

So small it could’ve been imagined.

Kael froze.

“…Johan?”

Nothing.

He leaned closer.

Watching.

Waiting.

Then

Johan’s fingers twitched.

Slight.

Weak.

But real.

Kael’s breath hitched.

“Hoy…”

Another movement.

This time, Johan’s eyelids shifted.

Slow.

Heavy.

Like it took everything just to open them.

And then he did.

For a moment his gaze was unfocused.

Lost drifting then slowly it settled on Kael.

Silence filled the space between them.

“…Johan?”

Kael’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Relief flooded his chest so suddenly it almost hurt.

“Gago ka,” he said, a broken laugh escaping him. “Akala ko—”

He stopped.

Because something felt off Johan was looking at him but not the way he used to not warm ,not familiar Just…calm, distant

“…Why are you here?” Johan asked.

The words were quiet.

Flat.

Like they meant nothing.

Kael blinked.

“…Ha?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Johan continued, voice weak but steady.

The words hit harder than they should.

Kael frowned slightly. “Anong ‘di dapat? Ikaw ‘tong—”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“I said I am.

The tension shifted.

Subtle.

Sharp.

Kael straightened slightly, confusion mixing with something else.

“…Johan,” he said more firmly. “Nakaratay ka dito tapos sasabihin mo okay ka lang?”

Johan didn’t respond immediately.

His gaze shifted away.

Like he didn’t want to look at him.

“I don’t need you here,” he said after a moment.

There it was.

Clear.

Cold

Kael felt something tighten in his chest.

“…Anong sinasabi mo?”

“You should go.

The room felt smaller.

Heavier.

Kael let out a small, disbelieving laugh.

“Wow,” he muttered. “Ganyan na pala ngayon?”

No answer.

Kael stood up slowly, letting go of Johan’s hand.

The sudden loss of contact felt… wrong.

But he ignored it.

“…Hinahanap kita,” he said, voice quieter now.

“Buong araw. Buong gabi.”

Johan remained silent.

“I went here not knowing anything,” Kael continued. “Tapos makikita kita ganito—”

He paused.

“…tapos ang sasabihin mo lang, umalis ako?”

Still nothing.

Kael clenched his jaw.

“…Grabe ka.”

Johan finally looked at him again.

But his expression didn’t change.

“Kael,” he said calmly, “this isn’t your problem.”

That hurt more than anything else.

“Hindi ko problema?” Kael repeated softly.

A bitter smile formed.

“Since when?”

Johan didn’t answer.

Because he couldn’t.

Because if he did

everything would fall apart.

Kael took a step back.

Then another.

Putting distance between them.

“Ah,” he said quietly. “Gets ko na.”

Johan’s hand tightened slightly against the sheets.

“…You don’t.”

“Hindi,” Kael shook his head. “Gets ko.”

His voice wasn’t loud.

But it was heavier now.

“Hindi ako kabilang sa mundo mo.”

Silence.

Johan’s chest rose slowly.

Fell.

“…It’s better that way.”

There it was.

The confirmation.

Kael laughed.

But it didn’t sound like him anymore.

“Better?” he echoed. “Para kanino?”

No answer.

Kael nodded slowly.

“Okay,” he said.

Too calm.

Too controlled.

“Okay.”

He grabbed his jacket.

“…Magpahinga ka,” he added, not looking at Johan.

“Mukhang kailangan mo.” Then he turned and walked toward the door.

Each step steady.

Each step forced.

Until he stopped.

Hand on the doorknob.

“…Johan.”

A pause.

He didn’t turn around.

“…Ang tanga mo.”

Soft.

Almost a whisper.

Then he left.

The door closed.

Quiet.

Final.

The room fell into silence again.

But this time

it felt different.

Heavier.

Colder.

Johan stared at the door long after Kael disappeared.

His expression remained unchanged.

But his grip tightened slightly.

The monitor beeped steadily beside him.

Unaffected.

Unmoved.

Unlike him.

“…Good,” he murmured under his breath.

As if convincing himself.

As if that’s what he wanted.

But his chest felt tight.

Too tight.

And for the first time

the silence didn’t feel safe.

It felt empty.

—

Outside

Kael didn’t stop walking.

Not in the hallway.

Not in the elevator.

Not even when he reached outside.

Only when he was alone

did he finally pause.

His hands trembled slightly.

“…Ano ba ‘yun,” he whispered.

Confusion.

Frustration.

Something else.

Something deeper.

He exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair.

“Bwisit ka talaga, Johan.”

But his voice broke.

Just a little.

Because no matter how hard he tried to understand

he couldn’t.

Why push him away?

Why now?

Why like that?

Kael clenched his jaw.

“…Fine,” he muttered.

If that’s what Johan wanted

then fine.

But as he walked away

his chest felt heavier than before.

Because something inside him had changed.

And no matter how much he tried to ignore it

he couldn’t go back to how things were.

Inside the room

Johan closed his eyes.

“…Stay away,” he whispered.

Not as an order.

But as a plea.

Because the closer Kael got

the more everything became dangerous.

Not just for him.

But for Kael.

And Johan would rather be hated

than be the reason Kael gets hurt.

Between distance and silence,

between words spoken and words swallowed

something fragile began to c***k.

Not loud.

Not obvious.

But enough.

Because sometimes

love doesn’t start with confession.

Sometimes it starts with pain.