Do You Know Where I Should Go?

Chapter 4

As the weeks passed, my study sessions with Tyrone became more regular. We decided to plan meetings in the library after our class dismissal, as he would be excused from his training during those times. 

I don't know what happened. I don't know how and when have I finally seen him as a person. A human-kind living in the same planet as mine, and not just an air that I don't even breathe. 

Being with him for almost two weeks now has allowed me to truly see him, to notice the details. His hair is brown with curly ends. His nose is pointed when viewed from the side. His eyes are a deep shade of brown, his lips not quite thin. His brows are thick, accentuating his sharp eyes. He seldom smiles, but when he's with me, he always does. He's playful, talkative, and most of all, childish. 

And I like how he shows up just when I feel like giving up. I like how he turn every problem of mine into jokes without ever offending me. I like how he makes everything light whenever I feel like carrying all the burdens with me. I like the way that he knows when and when not to back off whenever I'm frustrated or mad. 

We often fight. During our frequent fights, I found myself always having something to say. It seemed like I was always the one who had to be right about everything, while he listened quietly, resembling a lost puppy being scolded by a stranger on the street. 

His silence frustrated me even more, as if he didn't care enough to argue back or defend his perspective. 

I've always been the angry Scar to him. 

And I thought, he would leave the team or not see me anymore, but at the end of the day, he was there, standing by my side, asking for an apology even though he did nothing wrong. 

I like it. 

I like how he handle everything effortlessly. I like how he let these emotions out. I like the way he tolerate my acts whenever I'm mad and correct me the time I'd regain my composure. I like how we could stay in silence for hours without it feeling awkward, knowing that our presence alone is enough. I admire how he never questions my emotions, accepting them as they come without judgment. I like it when- when everything is a mess, he stayed. Despite having no space in my room full of doubts and uncertainties, he'd brush those off and help me go through it. 

I like how his face light up when he saw me. I like how unbothered he is whenever people are watching, murmuring about us. 

He taught me things. And I like it how he does that without even making me feel ignorant. 

Whenever I'm with him, I'm always empty handed. Partly because he always snatch and insist to carry my things even if it's my empty tumbler. He's always the one carrying my things. My books, my bag, and even that wallet.

So, it's funny how people think we're using each other. 

I don't know why, though. I don't know him. I know nothing about him aside from those. 

The bell rang, signaling lunch time, but the usual chatter and laughter in the hallway were replaced with an uncomfortable silence as I hurried towards the courtyard.

"Hugo!" I called. 

He turned his head and waved when me saw me. He stood. "Bakit?" 

"Kumusta ang press room?" I asked panting. 

"Hindi ko nga rin alam eh, mga ilang araw na akong hindi nakaka pasok doon. Hindi ko trip yung mga baguhan." 

I blinked. "Sino ang natirang senior doon?" 

"Wala. Baguhan lahat. 'Yon ang gusto eh." he shrugged. 

We decided to visit and walked through the hallway together, our footsteps echoing off the walls. The silence between us was heavy but not uncomfortable, a shared understanding that action was better than worry. As we approached the press room, my heart began to race. 

I turned the door know and found that it's locked. They took the keys away from me. They took everything for me not to enter that room for the mean time...

I looked at Hugo defeatedly and gave him a nod to dismiss him, to which he hesitated but did. So I went to the library and there wasted my lunch break. 

I was leaning against the piles of book at the very end table of the library peacefully when someone pulled the chair in front of me. 

"Quit stressing yourself, please, Skye." he stated frustratedly. 

I looked up. "You do not tell me what to do." 

"You look like you're about to explode."

I glared at him, not in the mood for his usual laid-back attitude. "Might as well do it now." 

He shrugged, unfazed. "Sinabi ko naman sa'yo na ako nang bahala 'di ba?" 

"What can you do? The club's a mess. Kaden's busy with the band." I huffed. "Asher, too." 

"Malinis naman silang mag trabaho, ah? Ano'ng inaalala mo riyan?" 

"Tyrone-" 

"Severo." he remarked. 

I massaged the bridge of my nose and sighed. 

It's been a week since I lent the room to the lower years, and I- I hadn't been able to check in on the press room at all, and the anxiety was starting to gnaw at me. What if they hadn't treated the equipment with the care it deserved? What if the microphones were tangled, the cameras misplaced, or worse, damaged? 

The press room was our sanctuary, the heart of our broadcasts, and I couldn't shake the worry that something had gone wrong in my absence.

"You don't get it!" I hissed. 

His jaw clenched. "Then make me understand." His posture was calm, but his face looked like he was ready to attack me with words.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. "I just... I can't afford for anything to go wrong." I stammered, my voice betraying my anxiety. "The press room is everything to me. If the equipment gets damaged or if something is out of place, it could ruin everything we've worked so hard for."

I stopped myself, realizing I was rambling. I looked up at him, my eyes pleading. "I just need to see that everything is okay."

"What the actual fuck?" his expression is disgusted. "Hindi sa lahat ng oras ikaw ang hahawak sa press room na 'yan, Skye!"

"Alam ko, pero," I stopped. He's right. Why am I like this? "Yung gamit ko doon! Pa'no na lang kung nasira?" 

"This isn't about the press room, is it?" he muttered, the madness in his eyes were fading. 

I took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his question settle on my shoulders. My mind was a chaotic whirlpool of anxiety and confusion, and I didn't know how to sort through it all. "I don't know," I admitted, my voice trembling. "I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think. The situation with the club, the pressure to make this 'til the finals, everything... it's killing me."

He went closer, his expression softening even more. "We all feel the pressure, but we have each other. You don't have to carry this burden by yourself."

His words were comforting, but the uncertainty still gnawed at me. "But what if we fail? What if all our hard work falls apart?"

He gently took my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Then we pick ourselves up and try again. But we're not going to fail, Skye. Not when you're with me. We're going to give it our best, and that's all anyone can ask for."

I gulped. "Severo," 

"You know what?" he chuckled. "I don't really mind you calling me by my first name." 

"What?"

He smiled. "Tyrone, sweetheart." 

"Tyrone."