Anthologies {MIKHAIAH AU}

K part 1

The soft hum of city lights crept through the blinds, pooling golden against the bare walls. Mikha stirred in bed, her arm thrown lazily over her face, shielding her eyes from the intrusion. Beside her, Aiah sat on the edge of the mattress, legs swinging slightly, her long brunette hair falling in soft waves over her shoulder. Her fingers played absently with the hem of the oversized shirt she'd borrowed—Mikha's shirt.

Mikha's voice broke the stillness. "Good morning," she mumbled groggily, her voice raspy, unbothered by the quiet awkwardness. She turned her head toward Aiah, her crimson-red hair spilling messily across the pillow. Her dark eyes squinted at the sunlight streaming in.

Aiah didn't look at her immediately, her gaze fixed on her bare feet against the cold floor. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but steady. "Maga-alas dose na," she said, eyes darting toward the digital clock glowing faintly on Mikha's bedside table. "Late morning na yata 'yan."

Mikha let out a small laugh, the sound raspy but warm. She propped herself up on her elbows, her movement languid. "Teka, bakit andiyan ka pa?" she teased, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't think you'd still be here."

Aiah turned, finally meeting Mikha's gaze. Her hazel eyes caught the light, and for a moment, they almost seemed to glow, the gold flecks in her irises softening her sharp, angular face. She smiled faintly, and the dimples at the corners of her lower cheeks deepened, making her look unexpectedly gentle.

"Wala akong lakas bumangon," she admitted, shrugging lightly. "Ikaw kasi... binigyan mo ako ng whiskey, tapos—"

"Tapos you ended up in my bed," Mikha finished for her, a playful smirk curling on her lips. Her head tilted slightly, strands of red hair cascading down her shoulder. "Guess we're both at fault."

Aiah rolled her eyes, though the flush rising in her cheeks betrayed her. "Don't get ahead of yourself. Hindi ko naman sinabing I regret it."

Mikha chuckled softly, sliding out of bed with a kind of careless ease. She wrapped a sheet around herself, her athletic , slender frame disappearing into its folds as she walked toward the window. She pulled the blinds open without warning, and sunlight poured into the room, washing out its dim corners with pale gold.

"Hay nako," Aiah muttered, wincing as the brightness hit her. She threw a hand over her face, her dimples flashing again as she half-grinned. "Drama queen ka rin pala."

"Gusto mo ng kape?" Mikha asked, leaning against the window frame and letting the light catch her sharp features. "O aalis ka na?"

Aiah hesitated, glancing at her clothes scattered carelessly on the floor. She hadn't planned on staying this long—it was supposed to be a fleeting night. Two strangers colliding briefly in the haze of alcohol and laughter. But now, in the quiet light of morning, Mikha's presence felt strangely grounding, like the steady hum of traffic outside the window.

"Coffee sounds nice," Aiah murmured finally.

Mikha raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised but pleased. "Alright then. Coffee it is."

Flashback

It had been one of those evenings that started without direction. Aiah had dragged herself to the bar to meet a friend who never showed. She stayed anyway, half out of stubbornness, half out of curiosity for the crowd. She had perched herself at the bar, sipping on gin and tonic, letting her long brunette hair fall like a curtain to shield her from unwanted attention.

Mikha had noticed her almost immediately.

Aiah wasn't loud, wasn't flashy—she didn't command the room in the traditional sense. But there was something magnetic about the way she quietly occupied space, a kind of quiet defiance that made her stand out. Her glowing eyes flickered with unreadable thoughts, and her dimples deepened whenever she smiled at something on her phone. Mikha, with her long red hair cascading down her back and her petite, athletic frame, had been leaning against the bar herself, sipping whiskey like it was second nature. She decided to approach.