When all else fails, trust WAP
I woke up to the sounds of frying, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and the scent of fried garlic rice. My stomach immediately rumbled, and my mouth watered. I felt like every involuntary response in my body had come alive.
After staring at the ceiling for a moment, I quickly spotted her figure moving gracefully at the kitchen counter. Her movements were perfectly precise—she knew exactly where the plates, spoons, and forks were kept.
She turned around, and I was too absorbed in the scene to even look away in denial. My heart fluttered at the sight.
She nodded. "You're awake. That's good."
View was often seen as the cold and composed beauty. She rarely smiled, but being attuned to her made one notice the subtle cues—her unique ways of showing approval and appreciation.
Her little nods, her soft hums.
She felt like a gentle breeze, and I found myself wishing to stretch this moment forever. But she broke it, raising an eyebrow—not in malice, but in her usual way that often led to playful banter.
Given the changes in our situation, I still wasn’t sure where I stood.
"I took the liberty of disposing of five cans of Pringles and two bottles of Coke," she began. "You should start living healthy, June. Stop relying on junk food."
I groaned. "You sound like my mom."
"To be fair, your mom is a nutritionist. One of my role models in the field."
I got up reluctantly and dragged myself toward the small table.
"Go brush your teeth first."
"I'm already sitting down, View. There's no way I'm getting up again. Your call," I said stubbornly.
I heard her scoff faintly but she let it slide.
My cheeks warmed.
I love it when View lets me have my way.
We started eating. View was on her phone, probably checking her calendar. She was attached to her schedules, and I found that attractive.
I once caught a glimpse of it. On her to-do list, it said: Check June’s fridge.
She had my class schedule plotted on her calendar too. She’d pick me up when I had late-night classes, treat me to snacks on long days, and even anticipate my hell weeks.
It was the kind of thoughtfulness that left me speechless. She’d show up with coffee out of the blue, offer to video call so I wouldn’t study alone, and somehow make me feel less alone in my chaos.
I loved all of it. I loved being part of her time.
A small smile tried to form on my lips, but it faltered the moment I remembered my confession. The way I told her I liked her. How she asked me how much. And how she said her feelings weren’t on the same level as mine.
"View..." I called her name softly.
She glanced up from her phone, setting it aside to give me her full attention. View didn’t like interruptions when she was busy, but she always dropped everything the moment I called her.
That habit hadn’t changed in the past month. It still made me feel special, though I wondered how long it would last.
How long until I got a side-eye instead of her full attention? How long until I became a nuisance to her?
For heaven’s sake, I’d fallen in love again, only to break my own heart a second later. Even my delusions don’t last as long as I want them to. This is just so sad and pathetic
"I think we shouldn’t see each other for a while, View," I said, my voice shaky but firm. "It’s counterproductive to my moving-on process."
Damn it. I shouldn’t have confessed in the first place.
. . .
"Looking for someone to let me stay in their dorm. I'm willing to be your mom and dad and take care of you. Just as long as I don’t have to pay for anything."
I didn’t even notice my California maki rolling away on the floor as I read the post in a group three times over.
Was this for real? I checked again which group it was posted in. It’s from an unofficial Facebook group made by Mandela University students, aka the “Rising Phoenix.” Mostly, it’s a rant group for students exhausted by life or seeking survival tips about subjects and professors. Sometimes, there are memes. And sometimes, there’s ridiculousness like this.
"Hey, June, you’re not eating again. Your ex would be mad."
My thoughts were interrupted by Milk’s irritating voice.
I frowned.
We were having lunch at the university canteen, her third meal of the day. Milk went straight to eat every break we had.
She ate with reckless abandon because she’s a gym freak. She claims food is her motivation to exercise. On the other hand, I’m too lazy to work out—and too lazy to eat. I get full quickly, so most of the time, I just take a few bites while scrolling through my feed before zoning out. Nothing new.
"She’s not my ex," I replied, rolling my eyes.
"Then what are you?" Milk pressed. "You’re not ‘friends,’ because if you were, then it makes me a shitty friend which I know I’m not…"
Goddamn. That’s brutal. But I’m prideful, so I kept my chill. I shrugged, like a dinosaur’s baby bite—not even sharp enough to hurt.
"Colleagues? Classmates in some subjects? Not everyone has to be friends, Milk. You’re just overly friendly."
Milk is like a Samoyed. She knows everyone in the hallway and smiles as if life were a parade of good news.
I thought I dodged her questions, but Milk shot me a shit-eating grin. "Oh, but she came over to cook for you and clean your place, huh?"
I glared at her. "I hope you choke."
"I hope she doesn’t," chimed in another voice. Milk’s grin widened, finding a new ally.
I wanted to throw my fork at her.
"Hello, class president!" Milk beamed at Love, her grin almost swallowing her eyes.
"Hi, Milk. I was just wondering where your output is. It’s not in the drive yet," Love said gently, smiling softly. "Professor Niran’s asking for the link."
"Ah, sorry, I haven’t uploaded it yet. On it now. " Milk immediately pulled out her phone to upload the files. While she did, I glared at Love, hoping she’d get my silent message.
Love sat next to me, and I nudged her side.
"Favoritism much," I muttered, but even if I shouted it, Milk probably wouldn’t get it. She’s as oblivious as a rock.
Love smirked. "She needs to graduate. How else will she propose to me?"
"It’s too early for your delusions, Pattranite."
"You’re not one to talk about managing delusions, June."
Ouch.
I pouted. "Breaking News: my hallucinations are over. I’ve stopped seeing things that no one else does.”
Love teased, "Does it hurt?"
This damned sadist.
Before I could strangle her, Love sighed, looking at Milk wistfully. "And yes, I know it hurts like hell. That’s why I haven’t confessed yet. One day, Milk will just wake up, and we’re already married."
"Are you sure? You’ve been feeding her since 7th grade. It’s like you’re already supporting a family."
She laughed. “That’s fine. I’ve got a provider mindset.”
She wasn’t lying. Love’s been bringing Milk food daily since they were kids. She also buys Milk’s school supplies—everything from bond paper to damned scientific calculators—when Milk forgets them.
Milk truly hit the jackpot. If only she could see it.
I glanced at Milk. How many documents was she uploading? Did she scan them per page?
"What if you try dating someone else?" I suggested.
Love looked at me like I had grown ten heads—all of them ugly as hell. Her eyes widened, her mouth gaped, and she scoffed. "What if you try dating someone else?"
She repeated my question with such emphasis it sounded absurd. To be fair, I’ve only been infatuated with View for a few months. Love’s unrequited (???) feelings are already in preparatory school.
"Blind leading the blind, huh?" I chuckled.
Milk finally finished uploading her files and looked at us. "What’s going on?"
I answered, "I was telling Love to try dating other people."
"No. She can’t," Milk said coldly, her voice sharper than I’d ever heard.
Love and I were both startled, though a small smile crept onto Love’s lips. She’s a goner.
"I wouldn’t have any food if she dated someone else," Milk added.
I rolled my eyes internally. You could’ve just stopped at the first sentence, Pansa.
Love looked a little deflated again. God, these two. How am I supposed to wallow in my broken heart with this drama in front of me?
Trying to help Love’s domestic dream, I asked, "So...you want her to cook for you forever, Pansa?"
"Of course," Milk answered without hesitation. "I wouldn’t have it any other way. If she stops, I’ll just stop eating."
"Sure you will," I teased.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure if Milk’s point was really about food, but her answer was enough to rekindle Love’s hope. Should I be relieved she’s happy or flick her on the forehead for being so hopeful?
Milk smirked at me. "You only finish your food when View brings it, anyway."
This Samoyed gets on my nerves.
Love laughed, her earlier sadness forgotten.
"You two deserve each other," I muttered through gritted teeth.
"Thanks," Love said.
Milk smirked even wider.
"But seriously, does she still bring you food?" Love asked.
I nodded but didn’t mention the other gestures View still did.
"It’s because she’s the eldest," I explained.
Love’s expression asked, So what?
"That’s just how eldest siblings are," I elaborated. "Once they feel responsible for someone, it’s hard for them to let go. She’s just naturally dependable. And... she sees my mom as her career role model. They’re both nutritionists. Plus, my mom entrusted me to her."
Milk and Love seemed to accept my explanation.
They should.
After all, I’ve been telling myself the same thing to comfort myself.
I didn’t want to think View was just leading me on. That would hurt even more.
"Then let someone else take care of you," Milk suggested casually, munching on a potato chip.
Her comment sparked an unusual kind of irritation in me. Why does it sound so easy when she says it?
I looked at Love, silently asking her: Do you hear what your girl is saying?
But to my surprise, Love didn’t disagree.
"If you’re just a responsibility to her, then she’ll stop if someone else takes care of you, right?" Love said.
Milk added fuel to the fire. "What if you’re just scared she’ll stop?"
. . .
"View!! My love!! I love you so much! You’re so handsome!"
I was this close to wanting to strangle the girl on the other side of the court. The way she was screaming, you’d think View was in an official competition.
She even brought a banner and a bubble head.
And this was just practice— at night!
Aside from the volleyball team members and her annoying presence, it was just me and Namtan in the gymnasium. The almost empty gymnasium makes her voice harsher as it bounces on the walls.
View scratched the back of her head awkwardly. Annoying. She didn’t even bother to stop the girl. Meanwhile, her teammates were giggling like they’d heard the funniest joke. The nerve of them, considering I treated them to three boxes of pizza yesterday.
I hope they all get stomachaches!
"If you’re going to commit a crime, don’t do it here in the gym. My girl’s the cleaner. We still have a date."
I shot Namtan a sharp look. "You’re no better. Rude. Did you even think about my broken heart?"
Lowkey, I was sulking. I’d been inviting her out for drinks so I could vent, but she prioritized her flirting instead.
"Don’t be mad. We’ll drink this weekend. My treat," she explained. "The order I got for my baby girl finally arrived from Shopee. It was stuck in the Shenzhen Sorting Center for ages."
"You should’ve just crocheted some handcuffs instead of ordering. You’ve got so much yarn—just tie her up yourself— ouch, damn it! "
She shoved me full force!
Both her girl (Film) and mine (in my wildest delusions) glanced at us. Namtan just flashed them an okay sign before glaring daggers at me.
"This is your fault!" she huffed, her cheeks turning red.
I chuckled. "You’re such a baby girl."
Namtan was known as one of the "handsome" and "hey bro" types on campus (which was true, by the way), but those of us close to her knew how feminine her hobbies were.
"And for the record, I’m the one who’s supposed to be tied up…" she muttered under her breath.
And me? I covered my ears.
The sound of volleyballs hitting the floor and the occasional shouts of “Mine!” or “Out!” filled the gym.
The team was in full practice mode. Honestly, I didn’t know much about volleyball apart from what View had told me—and well, apart from View herself. She had my full attention. Captain and spiker? She was insanely attractive.
Every move she made, from the precise sets she tossed to the powerful spikes she executed, had me on the edge of my seat. Her voice carried effortlessly across the gym, commanding attention as she barked out instructions and encouragement.
“Nice dig!”
“Keep it steady!”
Everyone listened to her as if she were the center of gravity holding the whole team together. She had this ability to make people feel safe like she could catch anything that was falling and ensure it wouldn’t break.
Except for my heart, I guess.
Their practice eventually ended. Namtan and I climbed down from the bleachers. Naturally, Namtan bolted straight toward Film, showering her sweaty face with kisses.
I made an exaggerated gagging face, though deep down, I was just jealous. The small towel in my pockets weighed a little more heavy knowing that I couldn’t use it to wipe her face.
“Good one,” I told View as she approached.
But her first words to me were, “Let me see your lunchbox.”
I groaned, trying to soften her up with my best puppy eyes, but of course, it didn’t work. Begrudgingly, I stomped back to the bleachers to grab my bag and showed her the contents of my lunchbox.
She glanced at my leftovers with disapproval, but of course, I still got butterflies because her concern was just too sweet. I am whipped, okay? Fine?
“Scold her later. For now, get a shower first, Captain,” Film chimed in, cutting in smoothly.
Namtan, never one to miss a moment, added, “You too, baby, and take me with you.”
Film playfully slapped her arm, “Heh. Get me a pineapple juice from the canteen first.”
I rolled my eyes at the two of them, “Pineapples? Seriously?”
Namtan stuck her tongue out in response but still went off to fetch her girlfriend’s drink.
“I’ll shower real quick, okay? Wait here, I’ll drive you home,” View said, giving me a smile before vanishing into the shower room.
I could still feel the ghost of my grin as I glanced at Film, who was still standing next to me, her gaze lingering fondly in the direction Namtan had gone.
“Go hit the showers too, lovebird,” I teased.
Film grinned, her dimple flashing, “Thanks, by the way.”
“For what?” I asked, tilting my head.
“For keeping me in check whenever my avoidant self almost broke up with her during tough times,” she said softly, her voice laced with gratitude. “I still can’t believe I have her in my life.”
I gently bumped her shoulder with mine, offering a warm smile. “Hey, you deserve her. You guys deserve each other.”
"Thanks," she said, but the faint smile on her lips didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her gaze flickered to the side briefly before snapping back to me, like she’d caught herself looking at something she shouldn’t.
I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes at her. “What’s that look for?”
“What look?” she replied, her voice suddenly tight, almost defensive.
“That one,” I said, leaning in a bit closer. “You’ve got that... constipated face. Spill it. What’s going on?”
Film forced a laugh, “You’re imagining things,” she said, waving it off.
“Am I, though?” I teased, trying to keep the mood light, though the way she avoided meeting my gaze set off tiny alarms in my head.
She stared straight into my eyes then, her expression shifting to something more serious. “I don’t think it’s my place to say this.”
Film’s the most private person I know in my life. She’s the last person you’ll ever find in someone else’s business. If it were a different scenario, I would have cracked a joke to ease the tension and dismiss the entire thing, but something told me to hold that consideration somewhere else.
"I just think that View might already be interested in someone else. ”
I wish someone had spiked a ball straight to my face. That would have hurt less.
. . .
“So you’re interested in someone else, huh? Why do you still take me home?”
Every cell in my head screamed that question but the bones in my jaws were much of a coward so I didn’t. First of all, I wasn’t even sure if I had the right to ask such a thing.
Second, what if she answers, “Yes, I have someone else in mind”? The thought was too much to bear.
And third, what if she got pissed off and just dropped me off some random highway?
Although, I doubted that. She was way too much of a gentlewoman for that. Still, I wasn’t sure if that would make me feel better or worse.
Fuck, I just wanted to get over her. So, maybe, just maybe , she could show some form of cruelty. But no, she didn’t. She even went out of her way to buy cat food at the convenience store to feed a stray cat.
I just let myself sink back into the usual routine that I had with her: her dropping me off at my condo after her practice.
You can find this in her calendar.
I sat in her passenger seat, the scent of her filling up the space around me.
We were at a gas station, and she went out to deal with the attendants. I didn’t think much of it until I realized it had been quite a while. Curiosity got the better of me, and I walked over to the driver’s side to peek at her.
There she was, on the phone, with a smile on her face. I froze.
View never used her phone while pumping gas. She’d always told me how irresponsible and dangerous it was. But she was using her phone, and she even picked up when someone called her. I leaned in closer to eavesdrop, turning down the speaker’s volume to catch what she was saying.
“7/11 date?” she chuckled. “I don’t mind. Sure. I’ll see you…”
The softness in her voice took me off guard. I quickly pulled myself back to my seat, trying to ignore the feelings swirling in my chest.
Film’s words came rushing back. And I began to wonder:
Is that the person she’s interested in?
Was that the reason for her smile?
What was the reason she didn’t smile at me like that?
What kind of joy did they give her? Maybe I could learn it?
The sting in the corner of my eyes threatened to turn into tears, and I cranked the volume up when she started to come back.
“Woah, that’s loud,” she flinched as she fixed her seatbelt.
“I don't care. This song resonates with me,” I muttered, avoiding her gaze.
She glanced at me carefully before starting the car. That ride was the most painful one I’d had with her.
What if I asked her why she still bothered to drop me off when she had someone else in mind?
I think I’d rather she just left me somewhere than keep up this damn routine of being dropped off.
Ha, I guess that’s why they call it: dropping off.
Falling for her and being dropped. Fuck it, seriously. And just to confirm that the universe hated me, the song, of all the things in the world turned out to be Cardi B's WAP.
For the love of heaven's.
“Can I lower the volume?” she asked.
I nodded but kept my gaze out the window. She lowered the volume, but the song kept playing. Cardi B’s voice filled the silence, and I noticed her fidgeting in her seat. She didn’t like explicit songs, but she didn’t change it.
I wanted to be petty and say something like: Just change it like you did with me.
But the thought felt pathetic, so I kept quiet. To make it worse, It took me a few minutes to realize that her Spotify was on repeat settings. I had to nurse my broken heart in the melody of someone announcing the presence of some whores in this house and wet ass p.
Thankfully, the drive ended, but she didn’t unlock the doors.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked softly, her voice laced with concern. “Tell me, June. You know that you’re important to me.”
My mistake was looking into her big brown eyes. For fuck’s sake, I melted right then and there. All the anger and bitterness I felt just evaporated.
But there was a selfish part of me that was in awe, too. She cares about me? I couldn’t help but want that care for myself.
So now what? What should I do if she has someone else in her heart? Should I throw a tantrum, make her feel bad, and try to make her cancel that date for me?
Was this what falling in love was? Is it supposed to make me this bad?
“Sorry, I’m just tired,” I muttered, trying to hide how vulnerable I felt, "and the song was sad."
I said certified freak, seven days a week. Wet ass pussy make that pullout game weak!
I wanted to slap myself when I said the last part.
She awkwardly nodded, “I could see that you're tired. Please sleep well.”
And before I could stop myself, I asked, “Want to go up? I can brew you a coffee.”
Please say yes.
Please say yes.
“Sorry, I have to go.”
Her words were like a punch to the gut, but I said nothing more.
I carried the lightness of my head and the weight of my heart into the elevator, hoping that it crashed into the basement.