Jay-Jay's POV
Sleep was fitful. My dreams twisted and turned, carrying me back through years I had tried so hard to leave behind. Even now, in my carefully constructed life in New York, memories of Section E refused to stay buried. And tonight, they came with a particular urgency—an echo of the last day I had seen him.
I was seventeen again, standing at the edge of the schoolyard, the sun dipping low, casting long shadows across the familiar playground. My bag hung heavy at my side, filled with books and a lifetime of unsaid words. I could hear the distant laughter of classmates, the teasing calls of friends, and the faint hum of the city preparing for evening. But all of it faded when I saw him.
Keifer.
Mark Keifer Watson. He was leaning against the rail near the basketball court, the familiar smirk on his face, casual but entirely intentional. His hair caught the last rays of sunlight, and his eyes—intense, teasing, impossibly knowing—found me immediately.
"Jay-Jay," he said softly, stepping forward. There was no drama, no excessive gesture, just that simple inflection that carried a thousand memories.
I swallowed hard. "Keifer…" My voice cracked before I could stop it.
He shook his head slightly, as if correcting some unspoken thought. "Don't make that face. You're leaving, yes. But you don't need to look so sad about it."
"I can't help it," I whispered. "I've… I've been trying not to think about this day, but it's impossible."
He stepped closer, closing the distance between us in the way that had always made my heart skip. "You think leaving changes anything?" he asked, teasing underlining the seriousness in his gaze. "I'll love you till the scientists find the end of the universe, Jay-Jay. That doesn't just stop because you leave Section E."
The words struck me like a physical force. I had heard them countless times before, always with the same unwavering sincerity. Even then, I had known that no one could say them like he could—not Yuri, not anyone. But I had to leave. I had no choice but to board that plane and step into the unknown.
I looked down at my hands, clutching the straps of my bag. "I… I don't know if I can come back. If this will ever be the same."
He reached out, placing a hand gently on my arm, grounding me in a way that left me breathless. "It doesn't need to be the same, Jay-Jay. It just needs to be us."
I wanted to argue, to say that everything would fall apart, that time and distance would steal away what we had. But the truth was, I could feel it even now—the magnetic pull between us that nothing could erase. I had been hopelessly, irreversibly close to him in ways that words could never define.
"You always make everything sound easy," I said, shaking my head. "Even leaving feels like falling backward into something I can't control."
He laughed softly, that effortless, comforting sound. "You've always been dramatic. And you've always been stubborn. That's why I love you."
I looked up at him, and for a moment, the world shrank to just the two of us—the faint rustle of leaves, the distant voices of classmates, and the fading sunlight that touched his hair like gold. He reached for my hand, entwining our fingers, small but deliberate, steady and confident.
"I'm scared, Keifer," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I don't want to lose you."
"You won't," he said firmly. "Even if we're miles apart, I won't let you go. Not really. Not ever."
The memory of that moment lingered, a tether pulling me back to the girl I had been—eighteen, naive, yet brimming with hope and stubborn love. I remembered how we had walked slowly across the schoolyard, hands brushing, teasing words spilling between us, yet underneath it all, a shared understanding that this goodbye was temporary, that our bond was unbreakable.
He had nudged me playfully toward the entrance, adjusting my bag on my shoulder like he did with everything in his life: carefully, intentionally, claiming nothing, but letting me know I was his in subtle, unspoken ways.
"Don't let anyone mess with you, Jay-Jay," he said with a grin, his hand briefly brushing my arm. "And don't forget… I'll find you, no matter what."
"I know," I whispered. The words were heavy, layered with hope and fear. "I know."
Even now, the memory of that afternoon filled me with warmth and longing. I could still feel the tug of his presence, the way his laughter lingered, the weight of promises that had yet to be fulfilled. Every heartbeat, every breath, was a reminder that our story was unfinished.
I closed my eyes, letting the dreamscape dissolve, returning to my apartment in New York. The city hummed around me, filled with ambition, pressure, and the life I had built. Yet even amidst towering skyscrapers and endless deadlines, my mind clung to that day, that last goodbye, and the certainty that nothing—not time, not distance—could sever the bond we had forged.
Keifer's POV
I had watched her leave that day, knowing that the world would try to pull her away from me. Yet, even in my own chest, I carried the certainty that our connection was unshakable.
"She's mine," I thought quietly, not in a possessive way, but in the only way that mattered—heart, soul, and everything in between. "No distance, no time, can change that. Not now, not ever."