Chapter 25
And the day had finally arrived—Becky’s very first appearance on a radio show as a singer, alongside Jeff. The entire campus was buzzing with excitement. Some students were genuinely thrilled, others were simply eager to be the first to tweet it out and ride the wave of trending hashtags. But Becky’s fandom? They were armed and ready—hashtag drafts saved, keywords polished, countdowns set.
It was a precious day for Becky. A milestone. And yet, she treated it so casually, as if it meant nothing. She got dressed the same way she would on a normal day, with no visible excitement—because deep down, what did it matter if the sun hadn’t shone in her dorm room for weeks now?
But there was someone else—someone who was painfully aware of what this day meant.
Freen.
As the student president, everything on campus went through her desk. So of course, she knew all about the radio event. Not only did she approve it, she had made sure it was promoted across the entire campus and beyond—flyers, digital boards, official posts on the university’s page, social media blasts reaching every other university across the country.
Nam had watched it all silently, her eyes observing Freen not just as a leader, but as a person. She saw how fragile Freen truly was beneath all the authority, how her hands trembled just a little as she tapped the phone screen to schedule a post for Becky’s radio premiere. And yet… Freen wouldn’t give in. No matter how much her heart cracked, she was determined to keep her distance.
Nam, who had seen both sides—Freen’s silence and Becky’s heartbreak—knew this wasn’t just a fight. Not just a dispute. Something deeper was brewing beneath all this silence, something raw and painful. And even if she couldn't fix it, she wanted to be there for both of them. She often joked that she was the real "mami" of FreenBecky but the way she was looking after both, was praying for them and even making merits every now and then for them, she indeed was the real mami of them, a silent witness to both their highs and their heartaches.
—
While Becky and Jeff were all set for their big moment, ready to go live, Freen was also on her way to the office. But today, she drove slower than usual, taking unnecessary detours, lingering at every turn. It was as if reaching her destination meant something she wasn’t ready to face.
Her mind kept spiraling back to the time she told Becky, “I want to hear you on the radio someday.” And now—now that day had come, and her hands were shaking just thinking about turning the radio on.
The air conditioning was blasting cold, but Freen was sweating. Her fingers trembled against the steering wheel, her breath uneven. The digital clock on her dashboard ticked closer and closer to the start of the show, and with every passing second, the weight in her chest grew heavier.
She whispered to herself, “I’ve been distancing myself from her for weeks… just five minutes to hear her sing isn’t running back to her, right?” Her grip tightened on the wheel, as if trying to hold herself together. “I’ll just turn on the radio. If her song plays, it plays. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. It’s casual... right?”
She sighed. “Who am I kidding?”
And then, she spoke out loud, as if bargaining with the universe itself.
“Okay, dear fate. You decide. If the last street light on my way to the office turns red, it means I should stop... and listen. If it turns green, I’ll move on. I won’t look back. Deal?”
She had no idea who she was talking to—maybe destiny, maybe her own guilt. But this was her way of surrendering, of trying not to let the storm inside her win.
She took the final turn toward the street light, the one that would seal the moment. Her eyes locked onto the glowing signal ahead.
Green.
Her chest tightened. Her hand clenched the steering wheel before she slammed her fist on it, hard.
“Damn it.”
She was determined now—determined to stick to her words and drive straight ahead without looking back. But just as her foot touched the accelerator, a truck overflowing with veggies—likely a vendor delivering them to the market—was blindsided by a bus barreling from the wrong direction breaking all the rules..
Before anyone could even process what had just happened, veggies were flying everywhere, scattering across the road like confetti after a tragic parade. Within seconds, a massive traffic jam erupted. Horns blared. People were shouting, some even starting to fight amidst the mess. The air was thick with the chaos of a city spun out of control.
Freen blinked, snapping back into her senses, her hands frozen on the steering wheel. Without wasting another second, she reached for the radio and turned it on.
RJ: "So that was Jeff’s very first single from his upcoming album—and my oh my, I can already tell it’s gonna be a hit!"
Jeff: "Thank you, that’s so sweet of you. I hope listeners around the world can relate to it. I really just want them to feel happy when they hear it."
Freen’s heart was pounding. She knew—any moment now. Any second, that voice... the voice... the one she had fallen in love with could pour through the speakers. The anticipation had her pulse racing, her breath caught in her chest. She barely noticed the pandemonium outside. Her world had narrowed to this moment.
RJ: "Now let’s talk about our latest talent, the rising music sensation—Becky Rebecca Armstrong!"
("It’s Patricia. Patricia Armstrong. Becky Rebecca Patricia Armstrong," Freen mumbled to herself, smiling through a tight throat.)
RJ: "So Becky, tell us—what’s your new song about?"
Becky: "It’s about loving someone your entire life… like it’s the very first, and the very last time."
And that voice. That voice.
Freen didn’t even realize when the first tear slipped down her cheek. It fell silently, dragging every ounce of her pain with it. Just when Becky started with “it’s about”—it struck her heart like a shard of glass. A beautiful ache filled her chest, like destruction she couldn't describe, and yet... it was all worth it. Just to hear her.
RJ: "Aww, that’s so sweet. I can’t wait to hear it! But tell me, did you write it? And if yes—who did you write it for?"
Becky: "Yes, I wrote it."
(Freen, whispering: "No way...")
Becky: "Even though I’m not really good at writing—and it’s my first time—I just… I wanted it to be special."
Freen was crying now. Her T-shirt soaked through with tears that wouldn’t stop. She didn’t even care.
RJ: "Wow, you’re so talented, Becky. I’m already a fan. Your fresher’s day performance clips are everywhere! You’ve got a lovely voice."
Becky: "Oh, thank you… but I bet not everyone feels that way."
Freen's heart clenched. She knew exactly what Becky meant. Every word of that sentence slammed back into her like a wave. It echoed their last fight. Becky wasn’t just speaking generally—she was speaking to her.
Jeff: "It’s alright, Becky. When you rise, not everyone’s gonna love your shine. It’s all part of growing. You’ll get criticism and love, and you'll learn to grow out of both."
Freen’s chest twisted. It was such a strange feeling—Jeff’s words were so right, so comforting… as if she herself were speaking to Becky. But the ache came from knowing—it wasn’t her. It should have been.
RJ: "You’ve got some amazing mentors guiding you, Becky. We all can’t wait for you to shine even brighter."
Becky: "Thank you."
RJ: "So… what’s the name of the song? And you still haven’t answered—for whom did you write it?"
Becky: "The name of the song is Birds of a Feather. And I wrote it… for my babe..."
Pause.
"...baby BonBon."
Freen froze. Her heart literally skipped a beat. When Becky said “babe,” her world stopped spinning. Even when Becky clarified further, Freen knew—just knew—that the song was for her. Maybe for BonBon too, but… she was in it.
RJ: "Who is BonBon?"
Becky: "He’s my son. My pet. He recently went through a near-death experience… and I’m just so proud of him. He didn’t give up. And now he’s doing fine. So… it’s for him."
Freen took a deep breath and slowly unbuckled her seatbelt. She glanced out the window. The chaos hadn’t cleared—screams and honks still filled the air—but her world had settled. She turned the volume all the way up.
RJ: "Okay then... here we go."
"I want you to stay
'Til I'm in the grave
'Til I rot away, dead and buried
'Til I'm in the casket you carry"
Freen's heart ached and melted at once. It was as if Becky was whispering to her, "I don't fear your fate, P'Freen. I'm all in—even if it means walking through death to stay beside you." And with those words, Freen was already crying.
But these tears—these were different. Not the kind born of pain alone, but a kind that felt like her soul bleeding straight out of her eyes.
The song continued.
"If you go, I'm going too, uh
'Cause it was always you, alright
And if I'm turning blue, please don't save me
Nothing left to lose without my baby"
Oh, these lines.
The vulnerability. The promise. The depth of love.
Just like how Becky always made Freen feel when they were together—undeniably seen, fiercely loved, and never abandoned no matter what. Now, Freen was muffling her sobs with the sleeve of her already tear-soaked shirt. Her breath came in sharp gasps, tangled in emotion as the chorus struck.
"Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know
I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone
Can't change the weather, might not be forever
But if it's forever, it's even better"
It was as if Becky was telling her, "I can't change the fate, P’Fieeen. But I refuse to let you fight it alone. Let’s be in this together—through whatever time we get. Whether it’s brief or endless... it’s enough."
And Freen heard it. She heard all of it—hidden inside Becky’s voice. Every word. Every promise. Every confession. And it shattered her completely. Her heart wasn’t just broken anymore—it had turned to dust, into powder, crushed beyond repair.
"And I don't know what I'm crying for
I don't think I could love you more
It might not be long, but baby, I
I'll love you 'til the day that I die
'Til the day that I die
'Til the light leaves my eyes
'Til the day that I die"
And with that... Freen broke.
She fumbled through her car, searching desperately for tissues—shoving them against her face, trying to breathe. Her eyes were swollen. Her shirt soaked. And while the world outside burned in scorching heat and chaos, inside her car—it rained.
It poured.
"I want you to see, hm
How you look to me, hm
You wouldn't believe if I told ya
You would keep the compliments I throw ya"
Freen’s mind flashed back.
To those early days—when Becky, stubborn and relentless, found excuses just to talk to her. A smile curled briefly on her lips before the next wave of emotion hit. She blew her nose, clearing the blockage caused by her crying, trying to catch her breath.
"But you're so full of shit, uh
Tell me it's a bit, oh
Say you don't see it, your mind's polluted
Say you wanna quit, don't be stupid"
Freen could hear Becky. Not just singing—but talking to her.
Calling her out on every moment she pulled away. Every time she denied what they had. Every excuse she gave to push love aside. Becky’s voice now wasn’t just part of a song—it was a message, meant for her and her alone.
Then came the final chorus—raw and loaded with every ounce of love and grief.
"And I don't know what I'm crying for
I don't think I could love you more
Might not be long, but baby, I
Don't wanna say goodbye"
"Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know ('Til the day that I die)
I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone ('Til the light leaves my eyes)
Can't change the weather, might not be forever ('Til the day that I die)
But if it's forever, it's even better."
Freen was lost in memory now—of her little family. Her, Becky, and BonBon. Their moments. Their laughter. Their warmth. If only fate hadn’t been so cruel. If only it hadn’t turned everything upside down.
And then, the song closed.
"I knew you in another life
You had that same look in your eyes
I love you, don't act so surprised"
A silent promise.
A whisper from Becky to Freen across time and space: "Even in another life, even if fate traps you again, I’ll love you just the same. Don’t act surprised—my love never left. It never will."
And in that moment, Freen knew.
She knew how much Becky truly loved her. How much she was willing to sacrifice—just to have even a fraction of time together.
And Freen?
She loved her enough to let her go.
To protect her.
There was no pain in the world Freen wouldn’t endure to keep Becky safe—even if it meant losing the love of her life.
(P.S. It's a Billie Eilish song birds of feather and all credits goes to her, I used it because it was just the right fit for a freenbecky situation. Thank you Billie, we love you :)
The day went by, and Becky received an overwhelming wave of compliments for her song. Her socials were flooding with all kinds of love—fans gushing, reposting, praising every note. But amidst the warmth were harsh critics too, ones she knew were strategically planted by music industry tycoons—setups designed to break her down before she could rise. But Becky smirked at them all.
Because what could possibly hurt more than the criticism from the one person who mattered most? The one who had already handed her the cruelest critique almost three weeks ago.
No one could break her more than that.
So, she shook it all off—the praise and the hate. As if none of it mattered.
Music had always been her dream. And now, here it was—coming true in front of her eyes. But the irony? She couldn’t even muster a smile.
She stood in the eye of the storm, wondering...
Did Freen hear it?
Because for Becky, that song wasn’t just a debut—it was a message. A silent plea to her Ice Queen. A quiet confession buried in melody... a way of saying, I still love you.
“The old Freen would’ve done anything to hear me on the radio,” Becky thought to herself.
“The one who broke rules for me.
The one who went out of her way just to make me smile.
The one who protected me like a child.
The one who wouldn’t let me sulk for even a while.”
But reality came crashing in—she was all alone in a room full of people. Surrounded, yet swallowed by a void. Everyone was hugging her, but none of it felt real.
Then Nam approached.
“Becbec,” she whispered and pulled her into a tight hug.
“The song was so beautiful. Everyone loved it so much.”
Nam gently ran her hand over Becky’s arm, as if trying to warm her from the outside in. But then she looked into Becky’s eyes… and saw nothing. Just an empty gaze.
“Thank you, P’Nam,” Becky replied softly.
Nam tried again. “There’s a room full of gifts and flowers. Come see—have a look. We’ll send it all to your home. Obviously, your room won’t have enough space!”
With that, she left Becky alone in a sea of gifts—cards, bouquets, even money arrangements.
Among all the extravagant displays was a bouquet of white lilies tucked away in the farthest corner. Becky nearly shrugged it off. There were so many beautiful ones—roses, daisies, tulips. But this one stood out.
She walked toward it. No card.
The flowers weren’t even real. They were plastic. But you couldn’t tell unless you touched them.
“Maybe the card slipped away somewhere,” she mumbled, scanning the others again.
And yet... she took a long exhale, turned to leave the room—hand on the door.
She paused.
Something inside her whispered otherwise.
So she walked back across the room, picked up the bouquet of white lilies, and took it with her. Maybe because it had no card, she could pretend it was from someone specific. Pamper herself—even delusionally.
So she did.
Back in her room, the loneliness thickened.
The noise of her success and the world's love grew louder, but inside her... it was silent. Quiet. Empty.
She lay on her bed and, as always, stared across at Freen’s.
But sleep wouldn’t come.
So she jumped off her bed, walked straight to Freen’s, and lay on it—for the first time in three weeks.
Freen’s scent wrapped around her like a memory, and that... that was all she needed.
She spiraled—smiling at first, then crying silently into the pillow. She was going insane.
Her eyes landed on the balcony window. A random thought struck—Freen’s cigarette pack. The one she always kept in her drawer.
Maybe this was the moment to puff away the pain. Just like Freen used to.
And now that Freen didn’t care... or maybe cared too much...
It was time.
Becky opened the drawer—breaking rules, sure—but she didn’t care. She needed something.
But instead of a cigarette pack, she found a small box.
“Must be Freen’s,” she thought and moved on, still searching.
Then she found it.
A card.
“You finally signed your first album, Bec, and I’m so proud of you.
I hope the day comes soon when I finally get to hear you on the radio.
Here’s a little present for you—one I’ll probably never be able to give.
But if fate ever spins 360 degrees, I’ll give you the world.
Until then, it’ll stay with me.
– From your Ice Queen,
P’Fieeeeen.”
Becky broke.
Her heart shattered in quiet sobs. Freen had bought her something the day she signed her contract...
The vulnerability in that thought, the love in that card...
With trembling hands, Becky picked up the small jewelry box.
Tears streamed down her face as she opened it.
Inside was a delicate necklace. A charm shaped like a shark.
And engraved in the center... was her name.
“Becky.”
Freen knew how much she loved sharks.
Becky clutched the necklace to her heart, sobbing into it like a lifeline.
In that moment, every doubt, every ounce of emptiness, every drop of loneliness went numb.
There was only one song playing in Becky’s heart.
Freen’s love.
She understood it now—the depth of it. The lengths Freen would go to protect her.
Their first fight wasn’t betrayal... it was a sacrifice. A performance by Freen to make Becky hate her.
So she could be on her own and stay healthy.
With that clarity pulsing through her veins like warm electricity, Becky leaned forward. Her fingers trembled as she reached into the drawer, brushing the edge of the necklace with reverence. She kissed the card first, then the delicate charm—softly, as if afraid it would vanish if she pressed too hard.
She left both treasures inside the drawer, resting them gently like fragile pieces of her heart.
But in her soul, she clutched them tight.
And then—almost impossibly—she smiled.
For the first time in weeks, her lips curved upward—not forced, not fake, but real. Her eyes shimmered, reflecting the faintest glow of something long buried.
Hope.
Her heartbeat wasn’t just alive—it was audible, like the soft rhythm of a distant drum, guiding her back to herself. Her breaths no longer stung. They were slow, calm... peaceful.
The dark shade that had lived in her room—haunting her like a ghost—began to shift.
A pale pink hue bloomed into the corners of the walls, delicate and almost invisible, like a sunrise threatening to break after an endless night.
Even though she still couldn’t have Freen back—
Even though nothing was fixed, and maybe never would be—
Even if Freen only ever saw her as a sister…
It was enough.
Just knowing how deeply Freen had loved her, in whatever form Freen could bear to show it…
That was enough to soothe the storm inside her.
That night, Becky did something she hadn’t been able to do in what felt like forever.
She slept.
Truly, completely, peacefully—slept.
Not in her own bed. But in Freen’s.
Wrapped in Freen’s blanket, curled where Freen once lay, surrounded by the scent of jasmine shampoo, vanilla lotion, and the faintest trace of cigarette smoke. It was all so vividly her.
Becky buried herself in that scent.
And she never wanted to leave.
She dreamed—
Dreams full of sunshine, laughter, and slow-dancing in the kitchen.
Dreams where Freen held her hand and never let go.
Dreams where the world didn’t fall apart.
And as she lay there, asleep, the colors she thought she had lost began quietly returning to her face—
A blush in her cheeks, a softness in her brow, the faintest gleam on her lips.
But even in that warmth...
The truth lingered like morning fog.
She still didn’t know what the next day would bring.
Because she still missed her.
And Freen… Freen still wouldn’t be there.
But Becky understood now—this wasn’t the end.
There was a long road ahead, paved with silence and walls that Freen had built brick by brick around her heart.
But Becky?
She was ready to tear them down.
One by one.
And she wouldn’t hesitate.
Not even for a second if freen let her in.
A night after so long—when both Freen and Becky finally slept in the peace of their quiet, indirect confession of love for each other. Becky, with her song. Freen, by being there for Becky in her own way.
The storm was far from over, but the rainbow was palpable on the other side of it.
So let’s read the upcoming chapter… just for the hope it all. ;)