Franco’s phone rang at 4 am the next morning, and he was about to launch a full-blown, curse-ridden tirade at the caller when he heard the voice on the other line.

“Franco?”

Franco was stunned at the voice. It was all too familiar, like the wind chimes that once enchanted him as a kid growing up in the South. But unlike the wind chimes, which brought back memories of his happy childhood, the voice did nothing but stab a hundred knives in his chest.

The person on the other line must have thought that Franco had a heart attack or something, so it spoke again.

“Franco, it’s me, Julius. Are you still there?”

Franco almost forgot that he was in a conversation. He cleared his throat.

“I’m here,” Franco said defensively. “How did you get my number?”

“I asked around,” Julius answered. “Old friends, people who may know you. Then I got your number.”

Franco scoffed. “Ever the resourceful one, huh? Why did you call me?”

Julius must have swallowed a bit on the other line. “I was hoping we could meet somewhere.”

Franco almost choked. “W-what? We? Meet somewhere? Why?”

“Would it be bad to meet up with an old friend?”

Old friend. So we’re friends now. “I’ll have to think about it, Julius.”

“I see. But please, do consider. I’d really love to see you again.”

Franco coughed, which alarmed Julius on the other line. Julius asked if he was okay, and Franco couldn’t be more irritated.

“I’m fine, Julius. I’ll think about it, alright? Now let me sleep, for chrissakes.”

Franco hung up before Julius could say anything and rolled to one side to sleep again. But he was no longer sleepy, and this infuriated him. He sat up and grabbed at his hair in utter frustration.

Of all times, Julius. Of all the fucking times.

-+-

“Oy, what time did you sleep last night?” Dane asked.

“What?” Franco asked as if getting his grip back to reality.

“Your eyebags are almost reaching your chin, Sleeping Beauty,” Dane said jokingly. “Did something keep you up last night?”

“These eyebags are Gucci, so shut up. And it's not something. Someone,” Franco said, taking a sip from his coffee. “Julius called me at four in the morning, wanting to meet up and shit.”

Dane’s eyes widened with shock. “Wait, Curlytop called you? After five long years? Now that’s something that would really keep you up!” Dane rested her head on her hands like a child eager to listen to a bedtime story. “So, what else did you guys talk about?”

“Nothing else, except that he’d love to see me again,” Franco answered dismissively. “The convo was short, since I told him to let me sleep.”

Dane chuckled. “But you never got to sleep after that, huh?”

“I managed to get several minutes of shut-eye, and now I don’t know if I’ll be able to function well for the rest of the day.”

Dane smiled at her sandwich. “So, what are you going to do now, Franco Magno?”

Franco scoffed. “I don’t know. And I don’t want to think about it.”

“But he’ll be waiting for your confirmation, you have to tell him if you’re game or not sooner or later.”

Franco shushed her. “Let’s not talk about this anymore, capische? And don’t tell Tin-tin. She’ll bug me about it.”

“Too late, hotshot, I’ve been listening the whole fucking time,” Tin-tin said behind their backs.

Franco and Dane almost leapt from the table in surprise. Franco asked how long Tin-tin had been there, and Tin-tin smugly told him she had been leaning at the doorway the moment he told Dane about Julius.

“If I were you, lover boy,” Tin-tin said. “I’d think more than twice before meeting up with someone who gave me more wounds than all the World War Two veterans had." She shrugged. "Figuratively speaking.”

Franco shook his head. “Okay, can we just...shut up about this? I am living harmoniously with probably the least shitty people on this fucking planet and I can’t deal with anything about him right now. Let me write my articles in complete fucking peace, you hear me?”

Dane and Tin-tin shut their mouths at once. Then Tin-tin smirked a bit.

“Be careful, tiger. Don’t let your thirst for intimacy get the best of you,” Tin-tin said as she left the room in a hurry.

Franco fumed and moved to chase Tin-tin, but he held back and sat down. Dane eased her tense muscles as she leaned on the table and looked at Franco.

“Look, if you can’t think of what to do next, just go with your gut,” Dane told him. “You’re a grown man now.”

Dane left Franco to get ready for work. Somehow, she got the feeling that the advice she gave Franco was also for her.

-+-

Like usual, work was work for Dane and Colin. Their game night is just a couple of days away and Colin had already bought snacks and energy drinks in anticipation of the night of heavy gaming. Dane could only laugh at Colin, and she told him that she couldn’t wait to beat him at the game he prided himself in winning.

“Oh, it’s on,” Colin said with an evil grin on his face.

Dane could only smirk in reply. Having watched walkthroughs of the game, as well as reading game guides online, she felt confident that she’ll break Colin in the cruelest way she could think of.

“So, game night aside, how’s your novel going?” Colin asked as he typed into the computer.

Dane shrugged. “Getting stagnant, I’m afraid,” she said. “My writer’s blocks are becoming more and more frequent recently.”

“Could it be because you’re lacking inspiration?”

“I suppose so.”

“Say, if that’s the case, why not try paying a visit to an art gallery? Nanay just got hold of a couple of tickets to an art show at the 4th District. I’m not one to go to events like that, but she gave me the tickets anyway. Whaddaya say, Booker?”

Dane had an eye for art, having inherited her so-called “artistic streak” from her father. Perhaps, she had thought, the art show would help her come up with ideas for her novel.

“Guess I’ll take ‘em,” Dane said.

Colin smiled. “Who knows, Dane? You might find something there that’s gonna change your life forever.”

-+-

Turns out, Colin’s mother had purchased three tickets with Colin and Dane in mind. The extra ticket was for some other person they’d want to invite.

Dane got Franco and Tin-tin to go with her, despite Tin-tin’s adamant refusal to attend the event, saying she’d rather clean the house instead of staring at incomprehensible canvasses.

The art show started at eight in the evening, and the place was already moderately crowded fifteen minutes after the doors swung opened. Dane figured the artist was a rising star, seeing that the crowd the show had attracted wasn’t that overwhelming yet ample enough to say that the artist was somewhat well-known.

Franco and Tin-tin decided to split up with Dane, with Tin-tin secretly planning to rush to a nearby bar to have a drink.

“Okay, I guess I’ll meet up with you guys outside once this show closes,” Dane said.

“See ya later, Dane,” Tin-tin said, smiling.

Dane had an eyebrow raised as she watched Franco and Tin-tin walk away and disappear into the crowd. The smile on Tin-tin’s face felt weird, but Dane dismissed the thought and started walking around.

The show was aptly named “Las Islas Filipinas in the Turn of the Century”, and the artist was someone named Talia Aldeguer. Dane expected to see portraits depicting the country during that period, but instead she was greeted by steampunk interpretations of various landmarks and famous figures, works with the steampunk elements and cultural aspects merged into a beautiful mess, and some still-life pictures that Dane found hard to believe were just figments of the artist’s imagination.

She stood in front of every painting, her head starting to fill with ideas she’d never thought of before. A grin started forming on her face as she started building concepts that she might incorporate in her novel. She quickly took out her notebook and began scrawling down her ideas, fearful that she might forget them soon enough.

“Taking notes for ideas, huh?”

Dane’s ears perked up at the sudden interruption and were unable to recognize the voice at the moment, but when she found the source of the voice, she felt a jolt of electricity hit her back.

It was her.

Dane almost dropped her notebook at the sight of the girl before her. The girl wore a plaid flannel shirt and jeans, and underneath the flannel was a gray V-neck t-shirt. Dane rested her eyes on the hazel irises, trying to convince herself that the girl standing in front of her was the same one she’d been crossing paths with for the last several days. Upon recognizing the ever-familiar pendant hanging loose around her neck, Dane knew it was her.

The girl smiled at her in a kind demeanor, as if asking how she may help her.

Oh Lord, help me, Dane thought.

Dane knew she needed help alright, but as much as she wanted to talk or move, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she was frozen in her place, fighting the urge to let her jaw loose.

“The paintings here...are nice,” Dane managed to blurt out.

The girl smiled. “Thank you, I appreciate the compliment.”

A wave of realization rushed over Dane. “Wait, so you’re Talia Aldeguer?”

The girl let out a laugh. “The one and only. And let me guess, you’re the librarian from the other day, right?”

Dane jerked back in shock. “Y-you know me?” she asked, smiling nervously.

“Of course. How can I forget someone who didn’t rat me out to the snarky old librarian for not using the tables back then?”

“That definitely earned me a scolding,” Dane said. “B-but it was worth it! Wouldn’t want to disturb you with your ideas, otherwise all this—“ she pointed to the paintings. “—wouldn’t be where they are tonight.”

Talia’s smiled grew wider. “Well, I suppose I can thank you for that. Dane Llanera, right?"

Dane stepped back a bit in surprise. "How did you--"

"The nice old man who gave me the ladder back in the library told me your name."

"Oh."

Talia held out her hand, and Dane swallowed a bit before taking it to shake.

“Well then, it's been my pleasure, Miss Aldeguer."

-+-

“Dane, I swear, I had no idea she’d do this.”

Franco held an inebriated Tin-tin in a fireman’s carry while Dane unlocked the car.

“One moment she was beside me looking at a painting, the next minute, she was gone,” Franco said.

When the show ended, Dane and Franco met up by the entrance. Both were surprised that Tin-tin wasn’t with either of them, so they figured out that she may have snuck out of the gallery and headed to the only place they were sure she’d go. Minutes later, the two were standing right in front of Freddy’s, a jazz bar just a block away from the gallery and one of the bars and clubs Tin-tin frequented. They found Tin-tin passed out on one of the booths, with a dozen beer bottles and half-empty tequila on her table.

Dane opened the car door and helped Franco in hauling Tin-tin, later closing the door with a heavy sigh.

“It’s my fault anyway,” Dane said as she and Franco settled on their seats. “She didn’t want to go and I forced her to.”

“She just can’t appreciate art,” Franco said condescendingly. “Anyways, what brought this on? Suddenly bringing us to an art show wasn’t something I’d expect you to do.”

“I needed ideas,” Dane replied as she started the car. “Inspiration.”

“And you got some, I presume?”

Dane thought back about Talia, finally knowing there was a name to that face, and the short conversation they had.

“Yeah. I got ‘em,” Dane said with a smile.

The smile flitted away as soon as it came when Dane thought twice about meeting Talia. Sure, they hit it off after talking about steampunk and how it influenced both their works, but Dane felt something ominous about meeting Talia.

Dane realized what it meant, and she gripped the wheel even harder in frustration.

Not this shit again, she thought.

“Dane, what is it?”

Franco’s voice tore Dane away from her thoughts, and she quickly swiveled her head towards him.

“Y-yeah?”

“You spaced out a bit. Something happened at the gallery?”

Dane took a quick glance at the rear-view mirror to check on Tin-tin, lest she suddenly wakes up. Tin-tin was out cold, so Dane had nothing to worry about.

“Franco I...I got her name,” she said, her eyes planted firmly on the road.

“Who?”

“The girl from the club. Who I saw again at the library. I got her name.”

A surprised look traced Franco’s face. He then sighed and smiled warmly.

“What do you think of it then?”

Dane switched gears. “I don’t know. But a bigger part of me felt...it felt like...something isn’t right.”

Franco nodded as the smile faded from his face. “I see. But it’s nice to finally know her name, right? That lessens the enigma that is her.”

Dane chuckled. “Yeah. That would be a big plus, I guess.”

“So, how did you manage to get it?”

“She was the artist.”

“Wait, what?”

Dane grinned. “She was the artist. Man, get your ears checked, would you?”

“She—so...Talia Aldeguer...that was her name.”

“Yeah, Captain Obvious.”

“Dane, this something straight out of fanfiction! I mean, this is...this feels unreal! You cross paths at some unlikely place, and then again at random parts of the city. It’s as if Fate is making that happen.”

Dane scoffed. “Calm your balls, Franco. Maybe it’s all just coincidental. I mean, she lives in New Manila, too. And she can go wherever she wants to go. We just happened to be at the same place at the same time. There’s nothing special about it.”

Franco huffed and slouched in his seat. “You’re a fucking buzzkill, you know that?”

“Meh, it helps me live longer. Comes with having a realistic view on the world.”

“No, you’re just being an ass because you think what happened before will happen again.”

Dane almost lost control of the wheel when Franco said that, causing the car to swerve a bit. This earned a few angry honks from the car behind them, and Dane swallowed to regain her composure.

“Look, what happened before is not relevant to what’s happening now,” Dane said, slightly infuriated. “And what makes you think that?”

“It’s written all over your face, idiot.”

Both were silent after that. Franco shifted in his seat and leaned with his arm at the window, lazily gazing at the street. Dane drove steadily, the thoughts in her head just the exact opposite.

They arrived home half an hour later, and the two helped Tin-tin wash up and get to bed. Franco placed a glass of water covered with a saucer, as well as a few Paracetamol pills on the bedside drawer so Tin-tin wouldn’t have to look for them in the morning. They retreated to their own rooms, bidding each other a good night.

Dane tossed and turned in her bed, unable to sleep after everything that had happened hours ago. Franco was right—she had been thinking that what happened with Joey was bound to happen again with Talia.

And like before, despite knowing it would fuck her up in the end, Dane felt the compelling urge to dip her foot in the water and swim again.