Jay's POV
The drive back from Tita Gemma's was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Keifer's hand rested on my thigh the whole way, thumb tracing lazy circles that made me forget about Aries' glare for a while. Streetlights flickered past as we pulled into my driveway, the house dark and still except for the porch light Mom always left on.
"Home sweet home," Keifer said softly, killing the engine. He turned to me, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. "You survive the interrogation?"
"Barely," I laughed, unbuckling. "Aries almost murdered you over a hickey. You owe me."
His eyes darkened with amusement. "I'll make it up to you."
I shoved his shoulder playfully. "Not tonight. We've got packing to do. Oxford waits for no one."
He groaned dramatically but followed me inside. The living room was already a mess of suitcases, labels, and dorm supply lists scattered across the coffee table. Mom had gone all out — color-coded packing cubes, new luggage tags with our initials, even a laminated itinerary for the flight to London next week.
"Damn," Keifer whistled, picking up a tag that read M.K Watson - Oxford. "Your tita doesn't mess around."
"She wants us prepared," I said, unzipping my biggest suitcase. "Clothes first. Then books. Then the emotional breakdown."
We started sorting — hoodies for rainy UK weather, chargers, notebooks, that lucky necklace I never went anywhere without. Keifer folded my sweaters with surprising neatness while I tackled shoes, but every few minutes, he'd find an excuse to brush against me or steal a quick kiss on my shoulder.
"Focus," I scolded, though I was smiling.
"Hard when you're right here," he murmured, wrapping an arm around my waist from behind. His chin rested on my shoulder as we both stared at the half-full suitcase. "You nervous?"
I paused, fingers stilling on a pair of jeans. "A little. New country. New school. Leaving everyone..."
He squeezed me tighter, voice low against my ear. "You won't be alone. I'm going too, remember?"
I turned in his arms, meeting his eyes. "Yeah. But what if we mess this up? Long distance inside the same city still feels scary."
Keifer cupped my face, thumb brushing my cheek. "We won't. Oxford, London, wherever — you're stuck with me."
My heart did that fluttery thing again. "Promise?"
"Promise." He kissed me softly, then pulled back with a grin. "Now help me pack my stupid blazers. I look like a posh kid in them."
I laughed, shoving one at him. "You are a posh kid."
"Oi," he protested, tackling me onto the couch in a pile of clothes. We wrestled playfully until I pinned him, both breathless and laughing.
"Truce?" he asked, arms still around me.
"Truce," I agreed, resting my forehead against his.
We went back to packing slower after that, stealing glances, sharing quiet stories about what Oxford might be like — late-night study sessions in ancient libraries, punting on the river, rainy walks holding hands. The nerves were still there, but with him beside me, folding socks and teasing me about my excessive stationery collection, it felt... possible.
By midnight, suitcases zipped, we collapsed on the floor amid bubble wrap and checklists. Keifer pulled me into his lap, holding me close as we stared at the ceiling.
"Ready for this?" he whispered.
I nodded against his chest. "With you? Yeah."
London was calling. And for once, I couldn't wait to answer.