A Close Second

Seventy-first

COURTNEY BEATRICE

The morning sun streamed in through the thin curtains, painting lazy golden lines across the room.

I stirred first, blinking against the soft light, groggy but comfortable. Andrew was still asleep beside me, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other loosely curled around my waist like he forgot the night was over.

I turned slightly to face him, careful not to wake him just yet. His hair was a little messy—okay, a lot—and his lips were parted just enough to hear the tiniest trace of a snore. I smiled, resisting the urge to poke his cheek.

"Stop staring," Andrew mumbled, eyes still closed.

I gasped softly. "I wasn't."

"You were. I can feel it." He cracked one eye open, his voice still heavy with sleep. "Are you judging my hair?"

I giggled. "Medyo. You look like you fought a pillow—and lost."

"Hn." he said, stretching, before looking at me. "Morning."

"Morning," I echoed.

He leaned over, kissing my forehead. "You sleep okay?"

"I did," I said, resting my head on his chest. "Despite us turning in late last night, I feel so rested."

"Same," he murmured. "It felt...peaceful. Kind of."

Natawa ako kaunti, watching the blue sky sa labas, the sunlight streaming on

"What time is it?"

Andrew reached over his phone, glancing on it before putting it down again. "7:43"

"Tara. Bangon na tayo. You're supposed to cook remember?"

Outside, I could hear faint sounds—a door opening, footsteps, someone's deep voice (Jake's) saying something about "Some tea will do you good." The house was waking up slowly, like we all knew there was no real rush.

There was a pause, the kind that wasn't awkward—just full of shared silence.

A soft knock came from the door. "Hey Kuya, Ate." someone called—Thea, maybe. "Gising na ba kayo? We'll start cooking."

We got up reluctantly, slipping into fresh clothes, brushing our teeth and stretching out the last bits of sleep. He took my hand again before we stepped out of the room, and I let him, quietly grateful that mornings like this—with chaos in the next room and warmth beside me—existed.

The kitchen smelled like garlic rice and eggs when we stepped in. Jacob was by the stove, cooking with surprising focus, one hand tossing hotdogs into the pan while the other cracked an egg like it owed him money.

Thea was seated on the counter beside him, legs swinging slightly. There was an airiness to her now, a softness that felt worlds away from the quiet, withdrawn girl she used to be. Before the amnesia, Thea rarely smiled like this—open and unguarded, like sunlight could touch her without her flinching.

She wasn't helping—just staring at nothing, a faint smile on her face like she was somewhere else entirely, and her eyes looked softer than usual. Parang bata na bagong gising sa field trip day.

"Uy," I greeted, tugging Andrew in by the hand.

"Morning," Jacob said without looking up. "Gago, kapal ng mukha mong sabihing gumising ako ng maaga. ikaw pa pala ang late na magising."

Andrew gave him a look. "We stayed up and cleaned the living room from last night. Kayo nga dumeretso na"

Jacob didn't look mad though, he was concentrating on the pan. "What's with the theatrics? Are you making scrambled eggs or filming a cooking show?" Andrew asks.