He checked himself once, no, twice, no, thrice—fuck, six times already. He smoothed down his jersey, trying to make sure he looked like a guy who had his life together and not just some tambay who spent his nights dodging the barangay captain for curfew violations. Samantha was supposed to stop by the court today, and he'd be damned if he looked like a mess.

“Mom, I’m going out!" Andrei shouted toward the kitchen. A high-pitched shriek came back in response. A whirlwind of instructions about rice, laundry, and her plants. He just adjusted his cap and headed for the screen door. He paused at the mat, glancing at his feet. Should I go barefoot? “Drei, you know,” his sister’s voice cut through his thoughts like a dull saw. He looked up to find his Ate leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, her brow furrowed. "You should really be looking at those college forms. You can't just be a tambay forever, waiting for some scout to randomly stroll here." Andrei rolled his eyes, his grip tightening on the door handle. "Ate, I know that. But... I don’t have hope anymore for that college thing.” He gestured vaguely toward the worn-out basketball sitting on the pavement outside. "Besides, you’re always the one saying I should 'pursue my passion.' Right now, my passion is making sure Mom isn't lonely while you're busy planning your next outing with your afam."

That hit a nerve. His sister’s face twisted into a grumble, but the fight left her eyes. She sighed, pressing a finger to her temple as if to stop a headache. "Whatever. Just don't get home late. If you're not back by dinner, Mom’s going to lose it, and I’m not defending you."

"Yeah, yeah. Love you too," he muttered, finally pushing the door open. He stepped out and instantly regretted every life choice that led to this moment. He slid his feet into his slippers—the ones he’d left baked directly in the sun. "PUTANGINAAAAAAA!!!!!!”

"TANGINAMO MO RIN!" A voice yelled somewhere in the distance.

The walk to the court was a gauntlet of humidity and the smell of someone roasting liempo on the side. By the time he reached the chain-link fence, the place was already heaving with the scent of stinky jerseys and cheap ass cologne.

"Yo, Drei!" Alex yelled, dribbling a ball that had seen better decades. "About time, bro. You know this area best, right?"

"Jeez, let me breathe first, can you?" Andrei panted. He grabbed the hem of his jersey, lifting it to wipe the sweat off his face. It was a subconscious move, but he felt the brief flash of his abdomen and the smugness that came with it.

"Yabang..." Marcus teased, miming a jump shot in the air. "But for real, we’ve got a situation. Look." The guys parted like the Red Sea. Sitting on the concrete bleachers was a girl who looked like she had teleported in from a mall in Alabang. She was dressed in layers that looked far too expensive for a dusty barangay court: crisp lines, designer labels, and hair that hadn't been touched by the humidity.

"I don't think she speaks Tagalog," Alex whispered, rubbing the back of his neck. "She was asking for directions to a pharmacy, but we couldn't understand half of what she was saying."

"No shit, all I understood was Paracetamol." Marcus piped up. "Sam uses that when she's on her period... I think."

"Bobo, she uses painkillers." Alex rolled his eyes, "What kind of brother are you?"

"Sus! Acting like I'm obligated to know what type of shit she drinks."

Meanwhile, Andrei felt the air leave his lungs. Holy fucking shit. Samantha didn't wear clothes that probably cost more than his house. As he approached, a scent hit him. Not the usual smell of laundry detergent and sweat. Expensive ass perfume. He stopped a few feet away, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that he smelled like a used sock. He swallowed hard, his throat feeling like he'd swallowed a handful of the court's dust. "Uhm... hi," he started, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again, summoning every bit of English he could muster.

"I'm Andrei. You... you speak no English? I mean—you speak English? I can take you to the pharmacy. Mercury Drug? It’s... it's just near Goodwill. Very close." He flashed an awkward, lopsided smile, his heart hammering at 100 miles per hour. He felt the sweat trickling down his back and prayed to every saint that he didn't look as pathetic as he felt.

The space between them was barely two inches, but to Andrei, it felt like he had the Great Wall separating them. He held her umbrella aloft, straining his arm to make sure the shade covered her completely while he took the full brunt of the sun on his left shoulder. He glanced at her outfit again. It looked expensive. Heavy fabric, clean lines. How the hell do foreigners not melt? he wondered. He was already damp with sweat, and they hadn't even reached the main road yet.

"Uh, so... the pharmacy," he started, his voice cracking just enough to make him want to crawl into a gutter. He tried to smooth the tension with a sheepish grin. "I’m Andrei, by the way. I realized I totally forgot to introduce myself back there. I’m not usually this... uh, uncoordinated."

He nervously bit his bottom lip, immediately regretting it. The skin was chapped and dry, and he felt the sharp, metallic sting of blood. His sister once nagged him all morning to use lip balm, but he’d brushed her off. Suddenly, the high-pitched whine of a modified tricycle engine roared behind them. The driver sped through the narrow lane, forcing Andrei to sidestep quickly. His shoulder bumped firmly against hers, and he practically leaped into the air on instinct.

"Shit! I mean—ah, sorry po, Miss!" He gripped the handle of her parasol so hard his knuckles turned white. He was terrified his sweaty jersey had left a mark on her pristine clothes. "I am so sorry. I swear I’m not usually this jumpy. It’s just... the traffic here is uhhh literal trash."

As they trudged further, the humidity began to settle in. Even she was starting to show the signs; The way her brows crinkled in discomfort and the faint glow of perspiration on her forehead. Andrei reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small, folded towel. It was his "good" one, the one his mom bleached until it was blindingly white. He hesitated, then offered it to her with a shaky hand. "Uh... here. I swear it’s clean. Like, 'Mom-level' clean," he added with a self-deprecating shrug. "If I come home smelling like a wet dog, my mom literally won't let me past the kitchen. She thinks I’ll 'stink up the sanctity of the home' or some bullshit like that."

A tiny twitch at the corner of her lips caught his eye. It wasn't quite a smile, but it was something. Emboldened, Andrei kept talking, his feet moving on autopilot. He was so busy trying to think of the next English sentence to impress her that he stopped paying attention to the landmarks. They both came to a dead, jarring halt at the end of the alleyway. Andrei looked up, expecting to see the red backdrop of the Mercury Drug logo. Instead, his eyes were met by the garish, flickering neon lights of a red-and-yellow building.

HOTEL SOGO.

His heart dropped into his stomach. She was a foreigner; she might just think it was a quirky hotel. He felt her gaze move from the "Short Stay" rates posted on the door to his own horrified face. It felt like she was staring directly into the darkest parts of his soul. "I swear to God, I did not bring you to a love motel on purpose!" The umbrella slipped from his hand, clattering onto the pavement. "I am NOT that kind of creep! GAGO, no—I just... I got distracted! I’m a dumbass, I got lost!" He gestured wildly toward the street they’d just come from, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled the hotel’s sign. "I know where the pharmacy is! It’s just two blocks that way! I-I swear, Miss. I’m not a weirdo, I’m just... really bad at directions when I'm nervous."

He checked himself once, no, twice, no, thrice—fuck, six times already. He smoothed down his jersey, trying to make sure he looked like a guy who had his life together and not just some tambay who spent his nights dodging the barangay captain for curfew violations. Samantha was supposed to stop by the court today, and he'd be damned if he looked like a mess.

“Mom, I’m going out!" Andrei shouted toward the kitchen. A high-pitched shriek came back in response. A whirlwind of instructions about rice, laundry, and her plants. He just adjusted his cap and headed for the screen door. He paused at the mat, glancing at his feet. Should I go barefoot? “Drei, you know,” his sister’s voice cut through his thoughts like a dull saw. He looked up to find his Ate leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, her brow furrowed. "You should really be looking at those college forms. You can't just be a tambay forever, waiting for some scout to randomly stroll here." Andrei rolled his eyes, his grip tightening on the door handle. "Ate, I know that. But... I don’t have hope anymore for that college thing.” He gestured vaguely toward the worn-out basketball sitting on the pavement outside. "Besides, you’re always the one saying I should 'pursue my passion.' Right now, my passion is making sure Mom isn't lonely while you're busy planning your next outing with your afam."

That hit a nerve. His sister’s face twisted into a grumble, but the fight left her eyes. She sighed, pressing a finger to her temple as if to stop a headache. "Whatever. Just don't get home late. If you're not back by dinner, Mom’s going to lose it, and I’m not defending you."

"Yeah, yeah. Love you too," he muttered, finally pushing the door open. He stepped out and instantly regretted every life choice that led to this moment. He slid his feet into his slippers—the ones he’d left baked directly in the sun. "PUTANGINAAAAAAA!!!!!!”

"TANGINAMO MO RIN!" A voice yelled somewhere in the distance.

The walk to the court was a gauntlet of humidity and the smell of someone roasting liempo on the side. By the time he reached the chain-link fence, the place was already heaving with the scent of stinky jerseys and cheap ass cologne.

"Yo, Drei!" Alex yelled, dribbling a ball that had seen better decades. "About time, bro. You know this area best, right?"

"Jeez, let me breathe first, can you?" Andrei panted. He grabbed the hem of his jersey, lifting it to wipe the sweat off his face. It was a subconscious move, but he felt the brief flash of his abdomen and the smugness that came with it.

"Yabang..." Marcus teased, miming a jump shot in the air. "But for real, we’ve got a situation. Look." The guys parted like the Red Sea. Sitting on the concrete bleachers was a person who looked like they just teleported in from a mall in Alabang. They were dressed in layers that looked far too expensive for a dusty barangay court: crisp lines, designer labels, and hair that hadn't been touched by the humidity.

"I don't think they speak Tagalog," Alex whispered, rubbing the back of his neck. "They were asking for directions to a pharmacy, but we couldn't understand half of what they were saying."

"No shit, all I understood was Paracetamol." Marcus piped up. "Sam uses that when she's on her period... I think."

"Bobo, she uses painkillers." Alex rolled his eyes, "What kind of brother are you?"

"Sus! Acting like I'm obligated to know what type of shit she drinks."

Meanwhile, Andrei felt the air leave his lungs. Holy fucking shit. Samantha didn't wear clothes that probably cost more than his house. As he approached, a scent hit him. Not the usual smell of laundry detergent and sweat. Expensive ass perfume. He stopped a few feet away, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that he smelled like a used sock. He swallowed hard, his throat feeling like he'd swallowed a handful of the court's dust. "Uhm... hi," he started, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again, summoning every bit of English he could muster.

"I'm Andrei. You... you speak no English? I mean—you speak English? I can take you to the pharmacy. Mercury Drug? It’s... it's just near Goodwill. Very close." He flashed an awkward, lopsided smile, his heart hammering at 100 miles per hour. He felt the sweat trickling down his back and prayed to every saint that he didn't look as pathetic as he felt.

The space between them was barely two inches, but to Andrei, it felt like he had the Great Wall separating them. He held their umbrella aloft, straining his arm to make sure the shade covered them completely while he took the full brunt of the sun on his left shoulder. He glanced at their outfit again. It looked expensive. Heavy fabric, clean lines. How the hell do foreigners not melt? he wondered. He was already damp with sweat, and they hadn't even reached the main road yet.

"Uh, so... the pharmacy," he started, his voice cracking just enough to make him want to crawl into a gutter. He tried to smooth the tension with a sheepish grin. "I’m Andrei, by the way. I realized I totally forgot to introduce myself back there. I’m not usually this... uh, uncoordinated."

He nervously bit his bottom lip, immediately regretting it. The skin was chapped and dry, and he felt the sharp, metallic sting of blood. His sister once nagged him all morning to use lip balm, but he’d brushed her off. Suddenly, the high-pitched whine of a modified tricycle engine roared behind them. The driver sped through the narrow lane, forcing Andrei to sidestep quickly. His shoulder bumped firmly against theirs, and he practically leaped into the air on instinct.

"Shit! I mean—ah, sorry po!" He gripped the handle of their parasol so hard his knuckles turned white. He was terrified his sweaty jersey had left a mark on their pristine clothes. "I am so sorry. I swear I’m not usually this jumpy. It’s just... the traffic here is uhhh literal trash."

As they trudged further, the humidity began to settle in. Even she was starting to show the signs; The way their brows crinkled in discomfort and the faint glow of perspiration on their forehead. Andrei reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small, folded towel. It was his "good" one, the one his mom bleached until it was blindingly white. He hesitated, then offered it to them with a shaky hand. "Uh... here. I swear it’s clean. Like, 'Mom-level' clean," he added with a self-deprecating shrug. "If I come home smelling like a wet dog, my mom literally won't let me past the kitchen. She thinks I’ll 'stink up the sanctity of the home' or some bullshit like that."

A tiny twitch at the corner of their lips caught his eye. It wasn't quite a smile, but it was something. Emboldened, Andrei kept talking, his feet moving on autopilot. He was so busy trying to think of the next English sentence to impress them that he stopped paying attention to the landmarks. They both came to a dead, jarring halt at the end of the alleyway. Andrei looked up, expecting to see the red backdrop of the Mercury Drug logo. Instead, his eyes were met by the garish, flickering neon lights of a red-and-yellow building.

HOTEL SOGO.

His heart dropped into his stomach. They were a foreigner; they might just think it was a quirky hotel. He felt their gaze move from the "Short Stay" rates posted on the door to his own horrified face. It felt like they were staring directly into the darkest parts of his soul. "I swear to God, I did not bring you to a love motel on purpose!" The umbrella slipped from his hand, clattering onto the pavement. "I am NOT that kind of creep! GAGO, no—I just... I got distracted! I’m a dumbass, I got lost!" He gestured wildly toward the street they’d just come from, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled the hotel’s sign. "I know where the pharmacy is! It’s just two blocks that way! I-I swear... I’m not a weirdo, I’m just... really bad at directions when I'm nervous."