Jay jay (pov)
We stepped inside the mansion.
For a second, everything felt normal.
Big space.
Soft lights.
Quiet.
Then—
footsteps rushed toward us.
I turned.
A maid.
Her face—
panicked.
"Sir—" she said quickly, looking at Keifer, "Keigen has locked himself in his room."
The air changed instantly.
I looked at Keifer.
Waiting.
Expecting him to react.
To rush.
To knock.
To call out.
But he didn't.
Not the way I thought he would.
He just nodded once.
Calm.
Too calm.
Then he started walking.
Fast—
but not rushed.
Like he already knew what to do.
I followed him without thinking.
The hallway felt longer this time.
Quieter.
He stopped in front of a door.
Keigen's room.
I held my breath slightly.
"…what is he going to do?"
I expected him to knock.
To bang on the door.
To call his name.
But instead—
He sat down.
Right there.
Against the door.
Like this wasn't new.
Like this had happened before.
I blinked.
"…what?"
He didn't say anything at first.
Just leaned his head back slightly against the wood.
Then he looked at me.
And patted the space beside him.
"Sit," he said quietly.
I hesitated for a second.
"…just sit?"
But something in his tone—
Calm.
Steady.
Made me move.
I sat down next to him slowly.
The floor felt colder than I expected.
The silence—
louder.
"…what are we doing?" I thought.
But I didn't ask.
Because he didn't look confused.
He looked like he was waiting.
And somehow—
that made me feel like this moment mattered more than I understood.
We sat there.
Side by side.
The silence stretched around us, thick but not empty anymore.
I could hear the faint ticking of a clock somewhere far in the mansion… and our breathing, steady but quiet.
The door in front of us—
still closed.
Still unmoving.
I glanced at Keifer.
His posture hadn't changed.
Back against the door.
Head slightly tilted.
Like he was listening.
Not to the outside—
but to something beyond it.
Then—
very softly—
he spoke.
"Keigen…"
His voice was low.
Careful.
Like even the sound of it mattered.
"I'm here, okay?"
The words settled into the silence gently.
No force.
No urgency.
Just presence.
I felt something shift.
Not outside.
Inside.
"In case you're listening…" he added quietly, his voice softer now, almost like he didn't want to disturb anything fragile on the other side, "you can open the door."
And then—
he stopped.
No knocking.
No repeating.
Just that.
And silence again.
But this time—
it didn't feel empty.
We stayed there.
Quiet.
Waiting.
Then—
a soft sound.
Click.
The lock.
Both of us heard it.
I looked at Keifer.
He looked at me for a second—
just one—
but it was enough.
We stood up at the same time.
No rush.
But not slow either.
He reached for the handle.
Opened the door.
And we stepped inside.
The door opened slowly.
The room was dim.
Curtains half drawn.
And there—
he was.
Keigen.
Sitting on the floor, his back resting against the side of the bed.
His knees pulled up to his chest.
Still.
Quiet.
For a second, neither of us said anything.
Then we moved.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Keifer walked ahead.
I followed.
And without a word—
we both sat down beside him.
One on each side.
Close.
But not too close.
Just enough.
The room felt heavier than outside.
The air still.
Then—
he moved.
Slowly.
Keigen lifted his head.
His eyes—
first went to Keifer.
Then—
to me.
And stopped.
My breath caught.
There was something in that look.
Not confusion.
Not surprise.
Something sharper.
Cold.
Like I wasn't supposed to be there.
Like I didn't belong in that space.
A silent—
how dare you.
I froze without realizing it.
My fingers tightened slightly in my lap.
"…okay."
That wasn't normal.
Not just upset.
Different.
Unfamiliar.
I didn't say anything.
Didn't move.
But I could feel it—
that shift in the room.
Like something had changed the moment his eyes landed on me.
That look stayed for a second longer.
Then—
Keifer spoke.
"Keigen… are you okay?"
His voice was calm.
Soft.
Like before.
Keigen's eyes shifted from me.
Back to him.
And just like that—
his expression changed.
The sharpness softened.
"Yeah," he said.
A small pause.
"I'm fine, kuya."
His voice sounded normal.
Too normal.
And that—
somehow felt even more wrong.
I stayed quiet.
But inside—
something didn't sit right.