Jace's POV
"When I'm fucked up, that's the real me..."
The bass rolled through the car—heavy, deliberate—settling deep, easy, like it belonged there. My fingers tapped against the steering wheel in rhythm, unthinking, like the beat had already decided to follow me.
Morning traffic crawled, stretching the road into something slow and uneventful, but I didn't mind. I never really did.
Windows up. Air-conditioning cold enough to keep everything sharp. Sunglasses resting low on my nose while the city drifted past the windshield, taking its time like it had nowhere better to be.
It always looked like that when you weren't in a hurry.
And I wasn't.
I leaned back slightly, one hand steady on the wheel, the other tapping along with the music, letting the moment settle exactly where it wanted to.
No rush. No pressure.
Just movement.
I caught the lyrics right as they dropped—clean, familiar, right on cue—and a small smirk slipped through before I could bother stopping it.
Yeah.
That felt about right.
"I only call you when it's half past five..."
I sang along lazily, one hand resting on the wheel while the other drummed against the dashboard.
"The only time that I'll be by your side..."
A motorbike sliced past my lane a little too close.
I didn't even flinch.
Just shifted lanes smoothly.
"I only love it when you touch me, not feel me..."
Now that part?
Yeah, that was dangerous.
Because it sounded way too good—clean, easy, untouchable... like something I could disappear into and not have to deal with anything at all.
"When I'm fucked up, that's the real me..."
A quiet laugh slipped out under my breath, low and easy, like I'd just heard something that made a little too much sense.
Yeah—that sounded about right.
Feelings had a way of complicating things. Overthinking them just made it worse.
Not really my style.
"When I'm fucked up, that's the real me..."
The chorus faded into the next beat just as I pulled into the university parking lot.
The engine went quiet.
For a second—just a second—my hand hovered over my phone.
It was almost eight a.m. just in time for that damn Database Management class.
My screen lit up when I unlocked it.
Nothing.
No notifications.
No long essays from Boss.
Not even a message about the Capstone Project.
I stared at the blank screen for a moment.
Did he finally stop caring?
I locked the phone again and hid it into my right pocket as I stepped out of the car, the bass still echoing in my head as the lyrics continued looping in my mind.
"When I'm fucked up, that's the real me..."
A cocky smile settled easily on my face.
I started walking toward the I.T. Department building when I suddenly noticed a familiar figure ahead.
"Jace? You're still here? You haven't graduated yet?"
I turned.
Dwight.
A senior I used to hang out with when I was a freshman here at Harrington University. Back when I was on the basketball team and he used to play on the same club.
"What a nice way to greet someone good morning, huh?" I said with a smirk as I stopped in front of him.
He shook his head.
"You haven't changed a bit," he said. "Even if you're younger than me, respect has never been your priority."
I chuckled.
"How could I respect someone like you when I know all your shit, Dwight?" I teased lightly.
"Oi," he warned, pointing a finger at me. "Watch your mouth. Someone might hear you cursing at me."
He straightened his posture.
"I'm a professor here now."
"Woah!"
I immediately covered my mouth in exaggerated shock.
"You?" I said. "A professor? What happened to your life choices? I thought you wanted to pursue basketball."
"Well, priorities change," he replied with a shrug. "I need to earn a living. I wasn't born with a silver spoon like you."
I smirked.
"How long have you been teaching here?"
"I'm new," he said. "Started this semester."
He sighed dramatically.
"And what a rough week for some of my students. Deadlines are no joke."
"You sure your students respect you?" I asked. "If I were in your class, I'd slack off."
He snorted.
"Hey. I'm strict in front of them. They don't know how goofy I actually am."
Then he squinted at me.
"Wait. Why are you still here? Did you fail a unit?"
"Apparently," I replied flatly. "Not entirely my fault that I failed, but here I am finishing one unit."
I checked my watch.
"And now I'm going to be late because of you."
He burst out laughing.
"Okay, okay!" he said, raising both hands. "We'll talk later."
"Yeah," I said. "After class. It's roughly one hour anyway."
"Alright. Let's meet at the café outside the university. My treat."
I nudged his chest teasingly.
"Look at you."
He puffed his chest slightly.
"At least I have to behave properly as your senior."
"Don't push yourself too hard, 'Kuya' Dwight," I said.
"Go to your class already before you're late and blame me," he replied.
I turned and started walking away.
"See you later. Bye, fucker," I called casually.
"Shh! Keep your mouth shut!" Dwight hissed behind me.
I chuckled and waved my hand without looking back.
* * *
When I entered the lecture hall, it was exactly as I expected.
Boss was already there.
Same seat.
Same posture.
Completely focused on whatever he was doing.
His eyes were glued to his laptop screen the way they always were whenever I walked in—as if the entire world could collapse behind him and he still wouldn't notice until the program finished compiling.
I dropped my bag onto my chair.
Not loudly.
Just enough.
Enough to say "I'm here" without actually saying I wanted his attention.
He didn't react.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't even glance up.
I frowned slightly.
Was he giving me the silent treatment the same way I had been giving it to him?
I sat down.
He was still staring at his laptop.
Fine.
If he wasn't going to say anything, I'd entertain myself.
While waiting for the professor, I pulled out my phone and opened a basketball game app.
Just something to kill time.
That was when the professor walked in, apparently.
Wow. The timing.
"Good morning, class," she said. "We won't have a lecture today. I want everyone to focus on your Capstone Project."
Immediately, chairs scraped across the floor as students started grouping with their partners.
And me?
I waited.
After all, he owed me.
If anyone should start the conversation, it was him.
Who the hell says they don't like someone and then goes on a date right in front of you?
Hypocrite.
And who in their right mind drafts a conversation—with scripted responses and everything?
Only him.
Conversation Draft version 6.3? Now I'm curious what version one looked like.
I shook my head, a quiet laugh slipping out before I could stop it. It was ridiculous—annoying, no question about that.
And somehow... still so damn funny.
I continued playing on my phone, waiting for Boss to finally say something.
Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at him.
Still typing.
Still focused.
I leaned slightly in my chair, stretching like I was bored, casually tilting my head to see what he was doing without making it obvious.
But when I finally caught a glimpse of his screen, it wasn't the Capstone Project.
It was something else.
An email draft.
What the hell was he doing? Confessing through email? No one was going to read that essay. It looked like the kind of message people spent hours perfecting and then never sent. But what was it about?
I leaned a little closer, just enough to try and catch the name of whoever he was writing to.
And then—
He suddenly looked up.
Our eyes met.
Everything paused for a brief moment.
But I immediately stretched my neck casually, pretending I hadn't been looking at him at all.
"You can do the Capstone Project, Jace," he said politely. "Or if you have other things to do, please do so. I'm just busy with something else. Thanks for understanding."
It was too polite—way too polite, to the point that it felt almost disturbing. The way he said it didn't sit right with me; it sounded so formal, so distant. He'd always been like that with other people, sure—but never with me.
"Whatever." I said simply as I opened my laptop.
But something was wrong.
I could feel it.
This guy operated like a machine.
Everything scheduled.
Everything organized.
Everything in the correct order.
But right now?
He was doing something else entirely.
Something important enough to interrupt his routine.
Did I finally break his system?
My eyes drifted back toward him.
"Just make sure to prioritize the Capstone Project," I said without looking at him as I logged into my laptop. "I want to graduate this time."
My tone stayed casual. Almost lazy.
Like I didn't care.
Like I hadn't spent the last ten minutes watching him from the corner of my eye.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he sighed.
Not the usual quiet, controlled exhale he made when concentrating.
This one was deeper.
Heavy.
I glanced sideways.
He had stopped typing. His fingers hovered above the keyboard, but he wasn't moving anymore. His eyes were fixed on the laptop screen as if whatever he was looking at had suddenly become very complicated.
Okay.
Something was wrong.
Tch.
I was supposed to give him the silent treatment.
That was the plan.
But how the hell was I supposed to ignore him when he looked like that?
The problem was—how do you ask someone what's wrong without actually asking?
Without looking like you care?
I leaned back slightly in my chair, pretending to adjust my posture while my brain started working.
Alright. Let's analyze.
What problems could he possibly be dealing with right now—aside from me apparently being a nuisance and a distraction?
Could it be about his family?
About Pa?
Last night, Pa invited me over for dinner—with his new woman and the kid.
I said no.
At the time, it felt like the logical choice. Things between me and Boss weren't exactly good, and showing up like everything was normal didn't sit right with me.
But maybe that was it.
Did Onyx feel uncomfortable having dinner with them?
Ack.
I should have been there.
But I couldn't.
He knew I was supposed to be mad at him right now—or at least, that's what he'd probably convinced himself of.
Maybe he thought I hated him.
I almost laughed at that.
I didn't hate him. I was just...
Tch.
Whatever it was—it wasn't hate.
Because if I actually hated him, I wouldn't be sitting here, watching him like this.
Onyx started typing again. A few seconds passed, then he deleted everything. His fingers moved once more—typing, stopping, deleting. The cycle repeated itself over and over, like he was chasing the perfect sentence and failing every single time.
My eyes narrowed slightly.
Wait.
Was that email for me again?
Because I wasn't answering his texts or his calls?
So now he was trying email?
Was he really that desperate?
* * *
"Okay, class, please stop what you are doing," the professor announced suddenly. "I want you to present your current standing on the Capstone Project. I want to see your progress."
Chairs scraped across the floor as a few students groaned, and somewhere near us, someone whispered something panicked under their breath.
Amateurs.
I leaned back in my chair, completely at ease.
We were fine.
I had the Boss—he could explain the Capstone Project in his sleep.
"I want to start off with Onyx and Jace's Capstone Project," the professor continued. "I believe this could be a good standard for everybody else."
Of course, ours would be the best out of all of them—no question about it.
I glanced at him and found him still typing—but not on the Capstone window.
The stupid email.
My brows pulled together in a slight frown.
"Hey," I muttered, nudging his arm lightly. "Earth to Boss."
He blinked.
Like I had just pulled him back from another dimension.
"Sorry?" he said. "What was that?"
Tch.
Since when does he space out like this?
"We're presenting," I said. "Now."
"Sure."
Sure? That's it?
What the fuck—
"Please come up to the front," the professor said.
I stood first.
"Let's go."
He grabbed his laptop and followed me.
"You good?" I asked quietly as we walked.
"Yes," he said immediately.
We reached the front of the room, and I crossed my arms loosely while Onyx set the laptop down on the professor's desk. He opened it quickly, his movements precise but tense, then connected the cable to the port. A second later, the projector flickered to life behind us, the screen at the front of the classroom lighting up as his laptop display appeared for everyone to see.
"Show me your current progress," the professor said.
Onyx's hand moved toward the trackpad—but stopped. It hovered there, suspended in the air like his brain had suddenly disconnected from his body. For a moment he didn't move at all. Then his fingers shifted slightly, as if he were about to click, only to pause again. Hover. Pause. Hover again.
His fingers were trembling.
Barely noticeable. Most people probably wouldn't have caught it.
But I did.
"Mr. Onyx, are you nervous?" the professor asked.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he began clicking through folders on the screen, opening one after another like he had never seen his own laptop before and was suddenly trying to remember where everything was. It was clumsy. Hesitant. Completely unlike him.
A few idiots at the back of the room laughed.
I slowly turned my head.
I didn't say anything.
I just looked at them.
That was enough.
The laughter died almost immediately, their voices cutting off like someone had pulled a plug.
Good.
No one laughs at the Boss like that when I'm around.
"Are you okay, Onyx?" the professor asked again. "You seem to be having trouble."
He froze for half a second—barely noticeable to anyone else, but long enough for me to catch it. That brief pause told me everything I needed to know.
Alright. Enough of this.
I stepped closer and placed my hand on his shoulder. It wasn't dramatic, and it wasn't particularly gentle either. I simply put it there, firm and steady, a quiet, undeniable presence. He let out a slow breath before finally looking at me.
I leaned slightly closer and lowered my voice so only he could hear me.
"Relax, Boss," I muttered quietly. "You're not alone on this."
His eyes held mine for a second longer than necessary.
Then I squeezed his shoulder once.
"You go find the Capstone Project file," I told him quietly. "I'll take it from here. We're partners, remember."
He hesitated.
Then he nodded.
The trembling stopped.
Good.
I shifted my weight forward and slid one hand into my pocket like this was just another normal presentation.
Not a rescue mission.
"I'll walk through the architecture first," I said casually, turning toward the professor. "He handled the optimization framework."
The screen finally loaded the system dashboard.
Perfect timing.
"So what we implemented," I continued evenly, "is a modular backend structure designed to prevent bottleneck failures during peak load."
The room went quiet.
Not awkward quiet.
Listening quiet.
"We separated the database access layer from the business logic to improve scalability," I said. "That way, even if traffic spikes, response time remains stable."
The professor leaned slightly closer to the screen.
Good.
Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at Onyx.
His breathing had steadied.
There you go.
I continued smoothly.
"And for the optimization framework," I added, giving a small nod toward him without looking directly, "he'll walk you through the performance metrics."
Then I stepped back half a pace—just enough to give him space without abandoning the position beside him. I wasn't pushing him forward. I wasn't interfering either. Just... restoring balance. Control. At least that was my plan.
"Go on," I said lightly, tilting my head toward the screen. "Optimization framework."
Boss nodded once.
He swallowed before turning toward the professor, shoulders straightening like he was trying to manually reassemble himself piece by piece.
"So... for the performance metrics, we implemented—"
His voice cracked.
It wasn't loud. Most people probably wouldn't even notice it.
But I did.
The sound was small, almost invisible, like a hairline fracture in glass. Still, once you saw it, you couldn't unsee it.
He cleared his throat quickly and continued.
"For the performance metrics, we implemented a... load testing simulation to evaluate—"
Then he stopped.
His eyes moved to the screen.
Then to the keyboard.
Then somewhere else entirely.
The cursor blinked on the slide behind him.
Waiting.
So was the entire class.
"...to evaluate response time under peak usage," he finally finished, but the delivery sounded wrong. Too careful. Too rehearsed. Like someone reading a script he didn't write.
The professor leaned forward slightly in his chair.
"Can you elaborate on the testing parameters?"
Boss opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
He blinked—once, twice, too fast—like his brain was trying to restart but the system kept freezing halfway through the boot sequence.
My jaw tightened.
Boss didn't forget parameters. He didn't stall, didn't lose his place mid-explanation—this was the guy who could tear someone apart using nothing but clean, brutal logic.
But this?
This wasn't him.
Onyx thrived in rooms like this. Presentations, defenses, technical breakdowns—this was his natural habitat. The guy could dismantle a database architecture in front of a panel of professors without breaking a sweat.
So what the hell was happening right now?
"Mr. Onyx?" the professor prompted again.
The silence stretched longer than it should have, just enough for someone in the back row to whisper—and for a quiet laugh to slip out after it.
I turned my head slightly.
Didn't say anything.
Didn't need to.
I just looked at them—and that was enough.
They shut their mouths instantly.
Something tightened in my chest—sharp and unfamiliar, like someone had pulled a wire too hard inside me.
Yeah.
That was enough.
I stepped forward smoothly, "What he means," I said calmly, "is that we simulated concurrent users ranging from five hundred to two thousand to test stability."
I reached for the mouse, my hand settling over his for a second—just enough to still him—before clicking to the next slide, my gaze lingering on him like I was making sure he stayed with me.
"The real improvement isn't just response time," I continued steadily, "it's resource allocation efficiency."
The professor nodded.
I kept going.
"I handled the technical sections he usually dominated — database indexing, cache management, failover protocols."
I wasn't just the delinquent, stupid bully they all thought I was. I wasn't incompetent—I just didn't make a habit of proving them wrong.
Onyx might live and breathe this stuff like oxygen, but I understood it well enough to survive a presentation. I just preferred to look relaxed while doing it. Like I wasn't trying too hard.
Cool. Unbothered.
Effortless.
Each sentence I delivered bought him another second to breathe.
Another second to recover.
I kept my eyes forward while explaining the system architecture to the class, gesturing lazily toward the projected slides as if this was normal for me.
But even without looking at him—
Nervous was normal. Onyx was meticulous, obsessive even, when it came to academic performance. Of course he'd feel pressure presenting the Capstone.
But this...
This felt different.
He wasn't simply anxious.
When I finished explaining the caching structure and stepped aside again, I lowered my voice just enough that only he could hear it.
"You okay?" I asked quietly, barely moving my lips.
He nodded.
Too fast.
Too automatic.
A reflex answer.
Then he tried to continue.
"For the optimization—"
He paused.
His fingers tightened around the edge of the laptop as if it were the only stable thing in the room.
"We... adjusted the query execution to minimize redundancy."
Better.
The sentence made sense.
Technically correct.
But his voice lacked its usual precision.
Usually, when Onyx talked about systems, he sounded like something built purely for efficiency—calm, structured, certain.
But now, there was a slight shift.
Barely there, almost unnoticeable.
Except I noticed.
His voice wavered just enough, and his eyes kept flicking back to me—not really asking for help, not exactly—but like he was checking if I was still there.
Like he needed something steady.
Something solid to hold on to.
That was when it clicked.
This wasn't about the presentation.
This wasn't about the Capstone.
Something had happened.
Something big.
Something that had knocked Boss completely off balance. I just needed to know what it was.
I finished the remaining explanation smoothly, wrapping up the technical overview before the professor could start probing too deeply into details Onyx normally handled himself.
Clean.
Controlled.
Like nothing unusual had happened.
By the time we returned to our seats, the class had already begun buzzing again — quiet conversations resuming now that the tension of presenting was over.
I didn't sit immediately.
Instead, I leaned slightly closer to him.
"Tell me, what's happening?" I murmured.
My voice stayed low enough that no one else would hear it.
Onyx didn't answer.
He just stared at his laptop screen.
Jaw tight.
Hands still resting on the keyboard like he had forgotten what they were supposed to do.
That was worse.
Much worse.
Control restored?
No.
Something was broken.
And I didn't like not knowing what it was.
While the next group began presenting their progress, I barely paid attention to the slides flashing across the projector.
Instead, I watched Onyx.
Every movement.
Every shift of his posture.
Trying to read him like a faulty program.
Trying to find the bug.
Eventually the class dragged toward its end.
"Okay, class. Next week will be your midterm examination. Make sure you prepare for it. That is all," the professor said as she gathered her papers and shut down the projector.
Chairs scraped across the floor as students started packing their bags.
"Thanks for saving our presentation earlier, Jace."
Onyx's voice came quietly from beside me—and before I could even turn to reply, he was already on his feet, walking away like it was nothing.
No pause. No glance back.
Didn't even give me the chance to tease him.
"Oi!"
I let out a breath through my nose, watching his back as he moved farther away.
Who does he think he is, leaving first like that?
That's my move. I'm supposed to be the one who leaves first.
That's the rule.
I grabbed my bag and followed after him, but the moment I stepped outside the lecture hall, something else caught my attention.
The annoying fringe girl passed right by me without even noticing I was there—but I noticed her, especially the way her gaze stayed fixed straight ahead. Onyx. And just like that, she started following him. I narrowed my eyes slightly, watching it unfold.
Well... now I was curious.
So I walked after them quietly, just far enough not to be obvious.
They turned toward the study corner near the hallway, and I slipped behind one of the thick concrete pillars that separated the lounge area from the corridor.
Perfect hiding spot.
From there, I could hear them clearly.
"Hello, Onyx! Good morning! How are you?" the annoying fringe girl greeted brightly.
Silence.
I couldn't see Onyx from my angle.
But judging by the pause—he hadn't answered.
"Is it still bothering you what happened?" she asked again.
My brows slowly pulled together.
What are these two hiding from me?
Don't tell me—
A horrifying thought suddenly flashed through my mind.
...Shit.
Did Onyx get this annoying fringe girl pregnant? That's why he's acting like his brain crashed?
Wait.
What the hell am I thinking?
Onyx?
Does he even know how to masturbate?
Maybe I should've asked him before if that was included in his schedule.
"Did you talk to him again?" the girl asked.
Ah.
Okay.
So it's not about Onyx secretly knocking her up.
Good.
But then...
Who's "him"?
My eyes narrowed further.
Are they talking about me? Or someone else?
"I will," Onyx finally answered. "But possibly I will just send the email I am composing."
Ah.
The email.
The one he'd been obsessively typing earlier.
"I hope everything gets better after you send that email," she said, giggling softly. "Trust me, it will work out fine. Wait—are you not with Jace today?"
Oh.
Now my name enters the conversation.
Interesting.
I leaned slightly closer to the pillar.
"I believe he won't come," Onyx said.
"Are you two fighting?"
"I'm not really sure," he admitted quietly. "But he helped me earlier with the presentation that I failed to do."
I felt the corner of my mouth start to lift.
Then I forced it back down.
No smiling.
We're still technically not on good terms.
At least, that's what I remember.
"I thought he was about to leave me," Onyx continued. "But he took over. I was grateful for that."
Tch.
Of course you should.
"You want to eat at the cafeteria?" She asked.
"No, not today," Onyx replied. "I just want to be alone again."
"Okay. If you need someone to talk to, just let me know."
"Sure. Thanks."
Then silence.
Probably the annoying fringe girl leaving.
I didn't move from behind the pillar.
Still listening.
Still waiting.
A few seconds passed.
Then I heard Onyx speak again.
But this time—his voice was softer.
Quieter.
Almost like he was talking to himself.
"If only I could talk to you properly like we used to... I might feel a little bit better."
A pause.
Then he said my name.
"...Jace."
And suddenly—I couldn't swallow.
Because for the first time that morning, it finally hit me.
Boss hadn't been ignoring me.
He'd been trying to reach me.
End of Chapter 38