Running Out of Songs (LenRisa One-Shot Stories)

Maybe Maybe

Got no idea where I'm going, I'm lost
I guess it comes with having too much time
She's got her mind where her heart should be
And I use my heart where my mind is free

"Although I'm a feminist, I'm an ally sa LGBTQIA+ community, hindi ko alam baka--baka old-fashioned din ako in that way na hindi ko pa naranasan na ako yong unang magsabi kahit na may nararamdaman na ako."

Years have passed, but those words still linger in the air, haunting me. Every day, I hear the whispers, the speculation. People think they know who I'm talking about—Leni, specifically.

They keep trying to connect the dots. I stumbled upon a TikTok video the other day—clips of us, moments from public events, stitched together. In every frame, I'm looking at her with... heart eyes, they say.

"Do I really look at her like that? Or did they just catch a moment?" I wonder to myself, flipping through papers, half-distracted before a Senate session.

"Madam, free ka na?"

"Oo, halika."

"Sen, ang dami ko nang compilation ng LenRisa videos. Pero ito 'yung pinahanap mo? Luma na 'to. Bagong ship ngayon si Alice Guo."

"Wala naman akong pakialam doon."

"So, kay Atty. Leni, meron?"

"Of course. Kaibigan ko 'yon."

"Kaibigan lang ba?" Her intern teases, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Ikaw—ayusin mo 'yang tanong mo."

After wrapping up the Senate session, I headed home. I was exhausted, ready to crash, but one thought nagged at me—LenRisa. I couldn't shake it, so I grabbed my laptop, curiosity outweighing common sense.

"Do I even doubt myself now, after all these years? I didn't even realize I was looking at her that way. Has it always been that obvious?"

I thought I could shrug it off, this idea of falling in love with Leni. I tried distracting myself with others, convinced myself that reciprocating their feelings would ease the guilt. But that's all it ever was—guilt. Not love. Not even affection.

The truth was, no matter how hard I tried, no one ever felt like her.

At that moment, Risa found herself dialing Leni's number without a second thought. To her surprise, the call was answered almost immediately.

"Lens, kumusta?" Risa asked, trying to sound casual, though her heart was racing.

Leni's voice was warm on the other end. "Dapat ako ang magtanong. What's up? Bakit bigla kang tumawag?"

"Wala lang... I just miss you," Risa admitted, her voice softer than she intended.

A light laugh escaped Leni. "Napaka-clingy naman ng senadora ko."

The way Leni said senadora ko made Risa's heart skip a beat. There was something about those words that felt more intimate than they should have, like a thread that tied them closer together.

"I love it when you say that—senadora ko," Risa said, her voice barely above a whisper, as if admitting a secret she wasn't ready to fully confront.

"Crush mo ako, 'no?" Leni teased, the playful edge in her voice masking an underlying curiosity, a question that perhaps neither of them was ready to answer.

"Baliw," Risa replied, laughing it off, but there was a softness there, a hesitation. She tried to hide behind the banter, but in that moment, she realized how hard it was to keep pretending that there wasn't something more.

"May boyfriend na ako, Lens," Risa said, her voice steady, but there was a tension beneath her words.

Leni paused for a moment, then responded with a playful lilt. "Pero wala pang girlfriend."

Risa stayed silent, the words catching in her throat. She wasn't sure how to respond, or if she even should. Sensing the shift, Leni quickly added, "Joke lang, baka seryosohin mo."

But the joke lingered in the air, heavier than it should have been. It wasn't just a playful comment—it was a crack in the carefully constructed boundary between them.

Risa felt the weight of what she wanted to say, the truth tugging at her, begging to be released. But she swallowed it down, choosing silence instead. Perhaps out of respect for her current partner, or perhaps because she wasn't ready to face what saying it aloud would mean.

She told herself that maybe this was all they were ever meant to be—friends. Just friends. Nothing more. But even as she thought it, there was a quiet ache, a part of her that wondered if denying her feelings was easier than confronting the truth she wasn't ready to accept. Maybe staying silent was safer than risking what they had, even if it meant hiding a part of herself from the one person who might understand.

'Cause I don't see the point in telling her I love her
When I know it goes one ear and out the other
She don't feel it the same way, maybe, maybe as a friend
Even then, I know I'm all alone, got no one in the end