Jillian Robredo x Reader (One-Shots)

fever.

Content warning: Blink-and-you'll-miss-it homophobia

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The wind's soft blows, colorful birds singing in the background, the sun shining down on you, the feel of mud caking against your shoes, the color of the tree bark, the blue skies with just the right amount of clouds, yet your vision tunnels in on her.

While you feel your heart silently shatter into million little pieces.

"I-I'm sorry, Y/N, b-but I'm not g-gay..." She says in a panic as tears well up on her eyes.

I knew this was a bad idea, you thought.

Your brain runs on empty but also loaded to the brim.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I-I have to go," She exhaled just above a whisper and ran away from you, not once looking back.

You only stood rooted at your spot, wishing things have gone differently—whether not taking up your friends' encouragement to confess, or deciding the last minute and chose to shut your trap instead, or just stopping these annoying feelings altogether.

But it's too late now, it happened.

Now you can't take it back.

Now you can't take her back.

Her retreating form and the hot tears running down your cheeks solidified that.

You spent the rest of the holidays in silent melancholy. You tried your best to pretend to be okay even if you're dying from the inside out. With no one to talk to, which makes it even worse.

Jill decided to cut ties with you since your frustrated confession the afternoon of Christmas Day, blocking you on socials. Her tradition of always calling you up on New Year's Eve to wish you another good year ahead is forgone and made you wallow deeper in self-pity.

It's all your fault after all, now suffer the consequences.

She has always told you to stop bottling your feelings or it could lead into disastrous outbursts; and look where it currently got you. You hate that she's always right. And you especially hate how you've gotten dependent on her. Now whenever you need a voice of reason, her image is what you conjure up in your head.

It definitely doesn't help with your moving on process.

You sighed in defeat as you sat by the piano bench. The recollection of you teaching her some pieces in this very bench breaks your heart a little more. You looked away sharply and went to bed instead.

As usual, January is the slowest month of the year. In a few days, you have to be back at work and would provide the much needed distraction.

The Robredos visit your family home a day after New Year's, being comrades since Tinong Jesse and your dad's college days that extended into their better halves down to their children.

You made up an excuse and plan to be out the whole time they're here. You can't stomach being in the same vicinity as Jill, and you'd rather not burst into tears in front of all of them.

Luckily, your parents let you go even though they're a little disappointed you can't partake in the regular festivities.

You were almost inside your car when you felt her gaze on you. It went away as quick as it came. You didn't even wait for the car engine to warm up and drove away without sparing another glance from whence you came.

Since then, you gradually accepted to yourself the repercussions of your confession. You met up with your friends that day and drank and shouted your sorrows away.