"Fidel."

He looked at Tristan. Despite his drunken state, Tristan’s serious expression surprised him. "I'm sorry to hear that you are being hunted by your past. But while you can never change it, you've regret and learned from your mistakes."

Tristan grabbed both of his hands and clasped it between his. "You are not the same person when you were a kid. You are no longer that bully, you’re-"

The words got caught in his throat. He could feel his emotions rise and his eyes get watery, but he didn't care. "The sweetest, energetic, joyful person I've ever met. You help run your family business, you go your way to make customers' day better. You are supportive and cheerful of your friends, co-workers, me…" he whispered the last part.

Tristan closed his eyes took a deep breath.

"What I mean is…"

He inched closer to Fidel.

"Don't let your past dictate who you are today." Tristan said in his most earnest, calmest voice he could muster.

Fidel looked flabbergasted. His drunken mind slowly registering everything Tristan had just said.

Both men stared at each other in silence. Tristan’s heart beat fast, but he didn’t let it distract his dedication to show Fidel that he meant every word he said.

Then, to his surprise, Fidel pulled Tristan's arm and hugged him. "Thank you…"

Tristan was caught off guard, face crimson red. But once the shock wore off, Tristan slowly raised his arms up and hugged Fidel back. “N-no problem. I'm always here for you.” He whispered.

After a few seconds of hugging, Fidel’s arms slowly fell down from his neck to his side. His whole body leaned towards Tristan. "Uhhh… Fidel?"

Fidel's head felt heavy on Tristan’s shoulders. Then suddenly, he heard the unmistakable sound of a faint snore.

He carefully pushed Fidel back in his chair. His body slouched down, face red from how drunk he was, and snores loud.

Tristan began to panic.

Luckily, he thought of an idea.

Tristan reached into his pocket for his phone, scrolled down his previous call logs, then called Mrs. Garcia. After a few rings, she answered the call.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Um-Hello Ma'am! It's me, Tristan." He chuckled awkwardly.

"Oh! Tristan! Hello! How are you?"

"I'm good, Ma'am." His eyes glanced at the snoring Fidel. "But I… currently need your help…"

"Oh? What is it?"

Tristan suddenly felt awkward. "Um… Me and Fidel are in Forest Food Park right now, and uh… Fidel got drunk asleep… And I don't know how to get him home?" His tone awkwardly pitched high at the last few words.

He heard Mrs. Garcia gasp loudly. "Drunk? Oh, Dios Mio! Ricky!" she exclaimed, followed by rapid footsteps.

Tristan could hear the voice of Mr. And Mrs. Garcia taking in the background, but their voices were too low to hear them properly. "Alright, we will be on our way! Thank you, Tristan!"

Mrs. Garcia ended the call before he could respond.

Tristan leaned on his chair, letting out an enormous sigh.

Suddenly, Fidel’s body leaned to the right until he fell down on Tristan’s lap. And much to Tristan's horror, Fidel let out a faint, drunk giggle as he snuggled comfortably into Tristan's lap.

Tristan’s face exploded. He froze for a bit, unsure and panicky about what to do. He was about to push Fidel back in his chair, but stopped himself when he noticed how… peaceful Fidel looked.

He just has to wait for Mr. and Mrs. Garcia to arrive.

Around thirty-five minutes later. Tristan heard his phone ring. He grabbed it at the table to check who was calling.

It was Mrs. Garcia.

"Hello Tristan? We're here. Where are you?"

Tristan glanced at the entrance of the food park. Despite the crowd, he could see a glimpse of Mrs. Garcia, with Mr. Garcia behind her.

"I'm here on the far right side. I'll wave my hand so you can see me." Tristan ended the call then waved his left arm around in a wide motion in their direction. Thankfully, they quickly noticed Tristan's wave.

While they’re on their way, Tristan's heart ached when he saw both of their distraught state. Particularly Mrs. Garcia, who looked pained seeing Fidel's drunken state. "Oh Fidel…" She leaned down and brushed his hair.

"C'mon son, get up." Mr. Garcia said, grabbing Fidel by the shoulder and slowly lifted him up from Tristan’s lap.

Fidel said nothing, still drunk asleep.

Mr. Garcia placed Fidel's left arm on his shoulder to support his weight. "Could you help me carry him to the van, kiddo?" He asked Tristan.

Tristan simply nod.

He got up and placed Fidel's other arm on his shoulder. Together, they carried him out of the food park. Fidel was at least conscious enough to walk, albeit sluggish.

Tristan was grateful that people gave them the way when they saw what was going on.

Once they reached the outside of the food park. Mrs. Garcia opened the pocket door of their van, then Mr. Garcia got up, still holding Fidel’s left arm, and pulled him inside with the help of Tristan.

Mr. Garcia straighten Fidel's body on the seat but his head slouched on the seat headrest, letting out faint snores. "At least he's more comfortable now." Mr. Garcia muttered.

Tristan sat next to Fidel while Mr. Garcia closed the door, then headed to the driver's seat. Mrs. Garcia was already on the passenger seat, taking concerned glances at Fidel in the rear-view mirror.

Mr. Garcia started the engine and began to drive away.

A quiet, awkward drive.

Tristan fiddled with his fingers to calm his nerves. He was stuck in yet another awkward atmosphere for the second time this week.

In the middle of the drive, Fidel's head slowly slid towards Tristan's shoulders. He flinched at the impact, face flustered. But he tried to keep his emotions in check, especially in front of Fidel's parents.

Suddenly, the van slowed down until it stopped due to traffic. Mr. Garcia click his tongue in annoyance. Mrs. Garcia turned her head around, a faint smile on her face. "Thank you for being there with my son, dear."

Tristan straightened his back, arms on his leg. "I-No problem ma'am."

"I apologize for his behavior. He only drinks when he’s very stressed."

Tristan's jaw dropped a little. His eyes unconsciously gazed at a sleeping Fidel. Another part of the story he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

His eyes went back to Mrs. Garcia’s and smiled back politely. "It's alright ma'am."

The traffic dissipated, and the van moved again. Mrs. Garcia turned around and faced the road, but her eyes were still on Tristan by looking at the rear-view mirror. "May I ask what happened?"

Her stern tone made Tristan gulp.

He started to explain the detailed events of the entire week. Mr. And Mrs. Garcia listened attentively. He quickly noticed the slight frown on their faces when they heard Eliana walked out of the cafe. But they didn’t interrupt and let him continue instead.

Once Tristan finished recapping the events, he could feel the tense atmosphere increased tenfold. Mr. And Mrs. Garcia glanced at each other, having a silent conversation with their eyes.

"I see…” Mrs. Garcia let out a dejected sigh, eyes on the road. “That was the only time he disappointed us. I guess it was our fault, too. We weren’t exactly present during his childhood, got too occupied running our business that he grew up with a nanny instead." She explained. Both she and Mr. Garcia had guilt in their eyes.

"After Fidel graduated, he became a recluse. He refused to befriend or talk to anyone out of fear that his old habits might come back…" Her frown deepened and lightly shook her head.

"He felt immense guilt for what he did. He even asked us to enroll him in a school an hour away from our home just so his former classmates avoid seeing him."

"It took him until junior year of high school before he slowly opened up.” Mrs. Garcia smiled softly. “Since then, Fidel began to take an interest in the family business, practically begged us to teach him everything about being a barista, which joyed us immensely. Then the rest is history, and became who he is today.”

“Despite his cheerful attitude, he only has a few friends he fully trust.” Mrs. Garcia let out a chuckle. "And yes, you are one of them. A ‘wonderful friend’, as he put it." She emphasizes the word.

Tristan gave his absolute best to not turn beet red in front of the Garcia couple. But he must have failed when Mrs. Garcia let out an amused chuckle. "His words, not mine."

The ride to the Garcia resident became quiet again. This time, the tense atmosphere disappeared, replaced with calmness.

Tristan glanced at Fidel. His mind still trying to grasp that Fidel thinks highly of him.

An hour later, they reached the Garcia residence. Tristan peeked at the window, and his jaw dropped a little seeing the large, two story polished house.

It screamed wealth.

A house maid opened the gate, which allowed Mr. Garcia to drive inside their open garage. Once Mr. Garcia pulled the hand brake up, he and Mrs. Garcia exited the vehicle, then Mr. Garcia opened the passenger door. "I’ll take care of him."

Tristan straightened his body and nod.

"C'mon, son, we're already home." He grabbed Fidel by his shoulder, then carried him inside the house while the housemaid opened the front door for them.

"Just stay right there Tristan, my husband will drive you back home." Mrs. Garcia said before she followed them inside.

Tristan suddenly felt awkward being left alone. He took his time to digest everything that he learned from Fidel as well as the story of his childhood. His heart ache imagining a recluse Fidel, actively trying to avoid anyone because of his past actions.

A few minutes later, Mr. Garcia exited the house and got up in the driver's seat. "Where do you live, kiddo?"

"Uh… Barangka Drive, Mandaluyong, sir."

Mr. Garcia started the van's engine, reversed out of the gate, then drove off.

The drive home felt even more awkward. Tristan wanted to say something, but he was too shy to speak since he didn’t know Mr. Garcia that well. So he occupied his time to further digest everything that had just happened this week alone.

Half an hour later, Tristan pointed his exact house to Mr. Garcia. He stopped the brakes just beside Tristan's home. "Thank you for driving me home, sir. I hope it wasn’t an inconvenience…"

Mr. Garcia barked out a laughter. "Don't worry about it, kid. And thank you for being there with my son.”

“I… No problem sir.”

Tristan stepped out of the van and waved at Mr. Garcia before he closed the door. He watched the van drive away until it’s out of the view.

He turned around and looked at his house, shoulder slouched. It was finally the end of a crazy week.

The next day. Tristan stood outside the Garcia residence. He pressed the doorbell, and after half a minute, the same housemaid from last night came out of the front door. "Hello? May I help you?"

"Uh-Hello! I'm here to check up on Fidel?"

The maid walked closer towards the gate, eyes squinted, and pointed her finger at him, as if she was trying to remember him.

"Oh! You’re with sir Fidel last night, right?"

Tristan nod. He felt a little weirded out hearing Fidel being addressed as ‘sir’.

She opened the gate and let Tristan walk inside. "Come! Come!” she gestured her hands. “Let me lead you to his room. I think Sir Fidel just woke up."

The housemaid led Tristan inside the house. His jaw dropped when he saw how immaculate the interior of the house was. From the walls, tiles, furnitures, and even the chandelier.

Everything screamed premium, even the flower vase looked expensive.

"This way." She gestured towards the spiral staircase. They walked upstairs and followed her down to a corridor with some doors on each wall and a yellow carpet on the floor that extends up to the far corner.

The housemaid knocked on a door, then leaned her head towards it. "Sir! You have a guest, it's sir…" She glanced at him and circled her hands around to signal what his name was.

"Tristan." He whispered.

"Sir Tristan!"

"Really?" Tristan heard the muffled voice of Fidel, then some footsteps that got louder and louder.

The housemaid nod her head politely to Tristan and walked away. At the same time, Fidel opened his door, wearing only tank tops and boxer shorts.

Tristan tried not to blush at the sight of his toned arms and legs.

"Uh-Hi Tristan! Come on in!"

Tristan entered the room and closed the door behind him.

He gawked at Fidel's room. It was a large, minimalistic room with a giant flatscreen TV on top of a shelf filled with various gaming consoles. A queen sized bed. Large shelf filled with anime figurines. A separate shelf with many books which Tristan assumed were manga books. And last but not least, his computer setup.

"Wow…"

Fidel sat down on his bed. "So, what brings you here?"

"Uh-how are you?"

Fidel looked at him a little surprised, but quickly masked it with a chuckle. “Still dealing with hangover. It sucks, but I just got to deal with it.”

"Right…"

Tristan slowly felt a spike of nervousness. He fiddled with his fingers to calm his nerves. "Um… do you remember… what happened last night?"

He looked down at the floor, too nervous to see Fidel eye to eye.

Fidel looked confused by what Tristan said. Until his face slowly morphed into shock, and then somberly. "Oh… I talked about my past… didn't it?" He said in a defeated tone.

"Hey hey hey!" Tristan slapped Fidel's shoulder, catching him off guard. "While you vented out your past, I don't judge you for it."

Fidel's eyes widened. "…really?"

"I would be a hypocrite if I said I don't regret doing things in my past either…"

Tristan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Feeling a rush of courage, he sat next to Fidel and stared into his eyes. "You are not the same person when you were a kid."

Fidel stiffened at his words, but Tristan paid no mind and continued.

"You are no longer that bully. You're the sweetest, energetic, joyful person I've ever met. You help run your family business, you go your way to make customers' day better. You are supportive and cheerful of your friends, co-workers."

He leaned in closer to Fidel.

"Don't let your past dictate who you are today."

Tristan whispered the last part, but loud enough for Fidel to hear it.

Fidel looked dumbfounded, like he couldn't believe what he just heard.

Meanwhile, Tristan's heart was pounding. He was scared of what will be his reaction. He’s aware that he is beet red right now. But he didn't care.

He meant every word. And he's not afraid to say it.

And once Tristan's words sank in Fidel's mind, Tristan let out a yelp as Fidel pulled his arm and engulfed him in a tight hug.

"Thank you…"

Tristan felt a sense of déjà vu. His heart beat fast by Fide’s embracing touch. But when he heard Fidel let out a cheerful hum, it snapped his flustered thoughts out.

Tristan slowly raised his arms up and hugged Fidel back.