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Part 6: “The Past Shows Up Late”
Huling Na-update:
2025-07-12 01:11:33Let’s keep this story blooming, 🌼! We're entering Part 6 now, and it’s time to shake things up. In this chapter, Yam and Franc take a leap into the world outside their cozy bubble. But new places mean new faces—and one of them holds a piece of Franc's tangled past. Let’s see what unfolds when comfort meets complication.
We didn’t plan the day. It just happened.
Franc was scrolling through his cracked phone while I dug through my closet like I was preparing for a music video shoot. We weren’t going on a date—not officially. We were just “going out.” But I still wanted to look like I knew how to make sunlight jealous.
“You like stripes or solids?” I asked, holding up two shirts like they were celebrity guests.
Franc didn’t even look. “Whichever makes you feel invincible.”
The audacity. The charm. I chose stripes.
We grabbed street food—kwek-kwek, fishballs, and those mystery burgers that defy both science and stomach logic. Franc ate with unapologetic enthusiasm, like he hadn’t tasted grease in years.
“Where have you been hiding all my life?” I asked between bites.
“Upside down, apparently.”
We laughed.
Everything felt... easy.
That is, until we reached the boardwalk. Crowds moved like slow rivers, and the sea breeze tangled my hair into a chaotic masterpiece. Franc stopped walking.
“What?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
His body stiffened. Eyes narrowed.
I followed his gaze and saw a guy standing by the railing. Tall. Pale. Sharp jawline and a pair of sunglasses that looked like they were bought for intimidation, not sun protection.
“Do you know him?” I asked.
Franc’s jaw clenched. “Yeah.”
And that one word had weight.
The guy spotted Franc and smiled—half polite, half painful.
“Well, well,” he said, approaching. “Didn't expect to see you alive and vertical.”
Franc didn’t reply.
“You still tangled in trouble?” the guy asked, nodding toward me like I was a prop.
Franc stepped forward. “Yam, this is Leo.”
Leo glanced at me. “Friend?”
“Something like that,” Franc said.
Leo scoffed. “Figures.”
There was tension so thick I could bottle it and sell it as perfume for emotionally repressed exes.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Leo said. “Some of us were worried. Not me, but... some.”
Franc stayed silent.
Leo leaned in closer. “Still running?”
Franc’s voice was flat. “Not today.”
Leo glanced at me one last time, then walked off like he’d just dropped a ticking time bomb and wanted a front-row seat to the explosion.
“What was that?” I asked, once Leo was out of earshot.
Franc sighed. “An old mistake.”
“You want to talk about it?”
Franc looked at me—eyes tired but open. “I will. Just... not here.”
We wandered until the boardwalk turned into quieter streets. There, beneath a rusted streetlamp, Franc spoke.
“Leo used to be a friend,” he said. “We did stupid things. Got into messes. One night, things went too far. I got drunk and woke up strung up like a joke. No one came to help. Except you.”
I took his hand.
“You’re not there anymore,” I said.
Franc nodded. “But sometimes, I still feel upside down.”
“I’ll keep steady for you,” I replied.
His grip tightened.
“You really mean that?” he asked.
“Even with the creaky fan and my cursed aunt.”
He laughed again—low and real.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered.
“No, I’m Yam,” I replied. “Incredible’s just part of it.”
We walked home slower than usual, hand in hand, knowing that whatever was coming next, it wouldn’t be perfect.
But it would be ours.
🌀 Want to go for Part 7 next? We could dive deeper into Franc’s past with Leo, or maybe explore a moment where Yam has to face something personal too. The story could tilt into heartbreak, suspense, or even a beautiful breakthrough—your call, and I’ll take us there. Just say the word, and we’re flying.
Pinakabagong kabanata
letters that staved Part 30: “When What You Build Speaks Too Loudly”
🌀 Onward to Part 30—the chapter where everything Yam and Franc have built begins to ripple outward. Their studio isn’t just a refuge anymore; it’s becoming a movement. But with growth comes friction—and this chapter asks, What do you protect when the world comes knocking?The invitation arrived wrapped in palm leaves and tied with twine, a rustic charm that immediately caught Yam’s attention. Inside, the letter was written in elegant script, inviting him and Franc to curate a corner at the Sining sa Baybayin festival in Baler. The theme was “Spaces That Stay,” and the arts collective had chosen their studio for this special project.Yam read the letter twice, savoring each word. Franc, ever the optimist, exclaimed, “I think they just invited the studio to be famous.” Yam smirked, a playful glint in his eye. “Sir Spins-a-lot’s finally going mainstream,” he quipped, referring to their studio’s nickname among local artists. They both laughed, agreeing to take on the challenge.Their ide
letters that staved Part 29: “The Door Stays Open”
🌿 Stepping into Part 29—the chapter where Yam and Franc turn dreams into doors. Their studio isn't just paint and poetry now; it's possibility. And that quiet hope they sketched during rainy afternoons? It’s ready to welcome the world.Yam and Franc had always been dreamers, their minds filled with visions of a world where art and emotion intertwined seamlessly. When they stumbled upon the idea of creating a sanctuary for those seeking solace and inspiration, they knew they had found their calling. They called it Tahanan Para sa Titig, a home for gazes, a place where the soul could rest and the heart could speak.The transformation of the side room was a labor of love. They spent days scrubbing the walls until they gleamed, painting the windowsills in vibrant blues and yellows that seemed to hum with life. A cozy beanbag nestled in the corner invited visitors to sink into its embrace, while a small wooden shelf held a curated collection of books—some penned by local writers, others b
letters that staved Part 28: “What Rain Teaches Us”
🌧️ Welcoming you into Part 28—a softer moment between the crescendo. After the whirlwind of launches and spotlights, Yam and Franc find themselves craving stillness. This chapter isn't about doing—it's about being. It’s about a rainy day, a quiet reckoning, and the reminder that home isn’t a location—it’s what you come back to.It started with thunder.Low. Reluctant. Like a whisper that had spent too long holding back.Yam stirred from sleep, rolled toward the window, and watched fat raindrops coat the glass like someone painting peace with stormwater.Franc was already up, kneeling beside a stack of new canvases he'd left out the day before. He cursed softly, trying to shuffle them to safety.“Sir Spins-a-lot’s trying,” Yam mumbled, nodding toward the spinning fan. “But he’s no hero in a flood.”Franc smirked, setting the canvases aside, then walked to the bed, climbed in beside Yam, and tucked himself under the blanket.Neither of them spoke for a while.The rain took up the room.
letters that staved Part 27: “The World Starts Listening”
🌟 Let’s drift into Part 27—the moment where Yam and Franc find themselves standing at the threshold of something unexpected: possibility beyond what they ever imagined. Their story, once a private rhythm between two hearts, now echoes in rooms they’ve never stepped into. But fame isn’t their goal—it’s connection. Let’s see what that brings. The email arrived on a Monday. Subject: International Literary Conference Invitation – “Love in the Margins” Yam stared at it. Then reread. A literary group based in Singapore wanted them to speak—together. About the power of storytelling, vulnerability, and queer love woven into everyday life. They’d found the book through a blog review that called it “a tender rebellion against silence.” Franc walked in mid-stare, setting down a bag of pandesal. “What happened?” he asked. “We’ve been invited,” Yam said, voice barely steady. “To do what?” “Speak. Tell our story. Abroad.” Franc blinked. “We’re exporting shelf chaos?” Yam laughed nervous
letters that staved Part 26: “The Words We Gave Away”
🌻 Continuing into Part 26, the chapter where the love Yam and Franc built begins to echo beyond their little home. The book they’ve written isn’t just about them anymore—it’s a mirror for anyone who’s ever loved imperfectly. And now, the world wants to listen. Let’s see what unfolds when private pages go public.The proof copy arrived in a brown envelope, slightly battered, as if the world couldn’t wait to get it there.Yam sliced it open slowly, hands trembling.Inside was their book.“The Art of Staying.”Cover: a sunflower. A crooked shelf. Two mugs—one chipped. And behind it all, the suggestion of a fan, mid-spin.Franc stared at it like it might whisper back.“Feels unreal,” Yam said.Franc flipped through pages. Some with artwork. Others with Yam’s poetry. Their story—wired beginnings and all—now bound in matte finish.“I think this book breathes,” Franc said.The small publishing house offered a launch event in the city—a cozy indie bookstore with warm lights and mismatched ch
letters that staved Part 25: “Let’s Build What’s Ours”
🌈 Here’s Part 25,—where Yam and Franc begin to realize that coming home isn’t the end of the journey, it’s a doorway. Their love has held through chaos, growth, and separation. Now, the question isn’t “will we last?” but “how do we thrive?”Yam’s bags were still by the door when he collapsed onto the couch.Franc joined him seconds later, legs draped over the armrest like he’d never stopped waiting. Sir Spins-a-lot whirred above them, faithfully offbeat.They didn’t speak at first.Just breathed.Then Yam said, “You repainted the sunflower.”Franc nodded. “She deserved a second bloom.”Yam smiled, tracing the edge of the mural on the wall.“So do we,” he said.The days that followed felt like relearning routine.Yam noticed the way Franc tapped his fingers when making coffee, the way he hummed while folding laundry, the way he paused before sending a text—like every word mattered now.Franc noticed Yam’s quiet glances out the window, his laughter when reading old poems, the way he al
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