JAY_JAY POV
"Do you want to go home?" he asked.
I pulled away from the hug and smacked his shoulder—hard.
"Ow!" he yelped. "Okay, wow, that was aggressive."
"I'm not going home," I snapped.
"You could've just said that," he muttered, rubbing his arm.
"I'm hungry," I said, crossing my arms like that settled everything.
He blinked. "So... assault first, snacks second? Got it."
I rolled my eyes. "You're lucky I didn't aim for your face."
He grinned. "You're lucky I'm still standing here."
I didn't respond. I just started walking, and of course, he followed—like he always does.
We got into the car. I slammed the door harder than necessary, and Percy flinched like I'd just fired a gun.
Silence. Thick, awkward, suffocating silence.
I stared out the window, chewing on my sleeve like it might give me answers. Then, out of nowhere, I blurted:
"Is he still mad at me?"
Percy nearly swerved into the next lane. "What—Jare? You can't just drop that like a bomb mid-drive!"
I didn't blink. "Well?"
He groaned. "Okay, okay. After you ghosted us like a Netflix show that got canceled, he didn't speak to anyone for a month. A MONTH. He went into full hermit mode. No texts, no calls, just vibes and sad playlists."
I blinked. "And when I reached out?"
"He wanted to talk to you so bad he almost threw his phone at a wall trying to type something dramatic. But then he didn't. Because—ugh—feelings."
I turned to him, eyebrows raised. "Feelings?"
Percy threw one hand in the air like he was conducting an orchestra of chaos. "Yes! Feelings! He was mad, sad, confused, probably hungry, I don't know! He didn't know if you left because of him or because the universe is trash!"
I slumped in my seat. "It wasn't him."
Percy pointed at me like he'd just won a game show. "Then tell him! Before he turns into a cryptid and starts living in the woods!"
I groaned. "I miss him."
Percy slammed the steering wheel like it owed him money. "Then SAY THAT. Text him. Scream it. Send a carrier pigeon. I don't care. Just don't sit there like a tragic Victorian ghost!"
I didn't leave because of him, and I hate that he might think that. I miss him more than I know how to say, and I don't want him to keep hurting because of something I never explained.
I was spiraling. Brain cartwheels, heart breakdancing, full emotional gymnastics over Jare and everything unsaid.
Then—bam. McDonald's.
I stared at the glowing sign like it might offer fries, nuggets, or clarity. Maybe all three.
I turned to Kuya Percy with a stare that screamed, "I'm about to emotionally combust." He looked at me like I'd asked for a toy.
This man, twenty years old, is emotionally ten. Squirrel energy. Zero wisdom.
I sighed. "You're twenty."
He grinned. "Chronologically. Emotionally? Ten was the peak. I had a Beyblade and no regrets."
I didn't say anything after that. Just let him do his thing.
He ordered twenty Happy Meals. Twenty. I blinked. Twice. Maybe three times.
"I get ten, you get ten," he said, like this was a perfectly normal distribution of joy and processed chicken.
Well. At least he was being fair.
I watched him carry the tray like it was a trophy. Twenty Happy Meals stacked like a fast-food Jenga tower. The cashier looked concerned. I looked emotionally unstable.
I stared at the Happy Meal toy in my hand — a plastic dragon with one wing. Fitting.
Kuya Percy was halfway through box five, humming like this was a picnic and not my emotional unraveling.
"You know," he said, mouth full of fries, "you and Jare have that twin telepathy thing, right? Maybe he already knows."
I scoffed. "Twin telepathy is a myth. He doesn't know. He doesn't even ask."
Percy paused, actually paused, like my words had hit a nerve. "Maybe he's scared," he said quietly. "You two are so synced it's freaky. If you're spiraling, he probably feels it. He just doesn't know what to do with it."
I didn't respond. I just stared at the pile of Happy Meal boxes like they might offer insight. Jare and I used to split everything — toys, secrets, silence.
Percy nudged a box toward me. "Eat. Think. Then text him. Or don't. But don't pretend you don't care."
I took the box. Opened it. Nuggets. No toy.
Figures.
By the time I was finished eating this twenty years old was playing with toys from the Happy Meal
I gave him a weird look she gave it back to me