the unsung.

UNiversity. - iii

trigger warning: i don't know exactly how to phrase this but there's corporeal punishment except it's consensual and in the context of katipunan hazing. if that's something that might make you uncomfortable, please do feel free to skip the entire section between dots (...) four and five, or just this entire chapter altogether. i want to make sure you always feel safe here.
all my love,
kakie

Nari's sprawled indelicately across Ignacio's modest bed. The mattress creaks whenever she moves, even a little.

    She stares up at his movie posters — there are lots of those, he's obsessed with them. They cover the walls like bad gift-wrapping, overlapping at edges, held up by nothing more than scotch tape and sheer will.

    One of them catches her eye. It's bigger than the others, pink and orange, a little awkward to look at.

    "Got 2 Believe?" She chuckles.

    "Hey, Rico Yan was a legend." Nacho says defensively as he struggles to finish some homework in the dark by his desk. His speaking is almost incomprehensible, given his incessant chewing. But even through his nth mouthful of Clover chips, Nari knows exactly what he's saying.

    "True." She agrees, looking back up at that poster where Rico Yan's side profile is slightly uncanny, "Gone too soon."

    "Got to believe in magic..." Nacho hums, then scowls. "See, now you've got it stuck in my head. I can't focus."

    "I mean, did you take your pills?"

    "Ah, pucha. Thanks." Nacho stands. His desk chair makes a screech against the floor and Nari buries her head in one of his pillows to drown out the noise.

    When she closes her eyes, she sees blue. Funny.

    Nacho rattles his pill bottle, then says, hesitantly, "Hypothetically, how much Adderall should a person take if said person missed three doses?"

    "You missed three doses?" Nari groans into the pillow.

    "Kungyari nga lang, hypothetical person."

    "Just take one. Otherwise you won't be sleeping tonight."

    Nacho huffs into the air as he pops one capsule in his mouth, "Grabe, galing mo talaga, dok."

    Shut up, Nari thinks. But she doesn't say it. He meant to be sweet.

    "Nari, why are you here and not upstairs?" Nacho eventually mumbles once he's emptied a glass of water. It comes out with melodic apprehension. Like he's been thinking of it for a while, and felt it best to bring up now.

    Upstairs means Franco's room, where he's alone. Probably studying, like the diligent perfectionist he is. It's all he does with his idle time.

    "Because I wanted to be with you." Nari flips over and stares up at the ceiling. There's nothing there worth mentioning, nothing worth shifting subjects for.

    "But it's date night..." Nacho mumbles again, eyeing her as he seemingly would a wounded animal.

    She doesn't say anything. Just sighs.

    "Alam mo..." Nacho says, creeping over, carefully sitting on the floor by his own bedside table, looking up at the side of her head, wondering what's going on there.

    There was some vague space between freshman and sophomore year when Ignacio was utterly infatuated with her. It's long since passed, in the way that most unrequited feelings pass — with time. Albeit, in their case, time was assisted by an indelicate, drunken confession at Mary Joy's twentieth birthday party. There was plenty of lambanog, salted by tears and eventual amends.