Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Like It’s Nothing
By eight in the morning, Colet Vergara had already broken two rules and ignored at least five stares.
She walked through campus with her backpack slung low, earphones in, expression unreadable—half bored, half amused. The scrape on her knuckle was fresh, courtesy of early practice and a reckless layup, but she didn’t bother covering it. People noticed anyway. They always did.
“Captain,” one of her teammates called out, jogging to keep up. “Coach is looking for you later.”
Colet shrugged, eyes still forward. “He’ll find me.”
That was Colet—nonchalant to the point of irritation. Nothing ever seemed to reach her. Not the whispers, not the glances, not the way first-years slowed down when she passed. She acted like the world revolved quietly and she was just passing through.
Until Aiah Arceta appeared.
Colet stopped walking.
It was subtle—just a pause, a shift in her shoulders—but if you knew her, you’d notice. Her eyes lifted, earphones pulled halfway down, attention suddenly sharp.
Aiah was standing near the main building, tablet hugged to her chest, hair falling perfectly like she hadn’t already been up since dawn. Student council sash peeking from her bag. Calm. Composed. Untouchable.
Except she wasn’t.
Colet crossed the distance without thinking, slipping a hand into Aiah’s waist like it belonged there—which it did.
“You didn’t text,” Aiah said softly, eyes flicking to Colet’s hand, then her knuckle.
Colet shrugged. “Phone died.”
Aiah sighed, fingers immediately closing around Colet’s injured hand. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s always nothing with you.”
But Colet smiled—small, real, only for her. “You’re here. That’s the important part.”
Their friends pretended not to watch, pretended this wasn’t their favorite part of the day. Rina clicked her tongue. “I swear, you’re emotionally unavailable to everyone except Aiah.”
Colet glanced at her lazily. “Correct.”
In class, Colet leaned back in her chair, legs stretched out, pen untouched. She looked bored, distant, like she’d rather be anywhere else. But her eyes kept drifting forward—to where Aiah sat straight-backed, answering questions effortlessly.
Every time Aiah spoke, Colet’s jaw tightened just a bit. Pride, unspoken. Possession, quiet.
At lunch, chaos bloomed like usual. Trays clattered. Laughter echoed.
“Everyone’s going to the game Friday,” someone announced.
Colet nodded. “Cool.”
Aiah looked at her. “I’ll come after my meeting.”
Colet’s head turned instantly. “You sure?”
Aiah smiled. “I always am.”
Colet reached for her hand under the table, thumb brushing over Aiah’s knuckles like a secret. The world faded back into background noise.
By dismissal, the sun hung low and golden. Colet waited beside her bike, arms crossed, expression unreadable again. Girls passed. Stares lingered. She didn’t react.
When Aiah walked toward her, Colet straightened without realizing.
“You ready?” Colet asked, voice softer.
Aiah slipped on the helmet, hands settling around Colet’s waist. “Always.”
The engine roared to life, and as they pulled away, Colet smirked—one hand steady on the throttle, the other briefly covering Aiah’s.
To everyone else, Colet Vergara was careless, distant, untouchable.
But for Aiah Arceta?
She was home.