Kyle didn’t look up at first. He was crouched beside the basil plants near the window, gently rotating their pots and inspecting the soil with quiet concentration. The morning sun spilled golden light over the ceramic pots and hanging ferns, a tranquil rhythm he’d grown used to.
“Excuse me,” a voice said. Smooth. Familiar. Laced with disbelief.
Kyle’s spine straightened.
No.
No, it couldn’t be.
He turned slowly—carefully—as if any sudden movement might make the illusion vanish.
There, standing by the entrance with a tiny cactus in one hand and a stunned look on his face, was Ray Lopez.
Kyle’s world halted. The air stopped moving. His mouth went dry.
Ray looked exactly the same—well, almost. He was tanner, a bit broader in the shoulders, and wearing a sleeveless hoodie that clung unfairly to his arms. His hair was tousled in that I woke up like this kind of way. But his eyes—those familiar, warm, knowing eyes—were locked on Kyle’s.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Ray said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You disappeared.”
Kyle stared. His knees almost gave out. “Ray?”
The cactus in Ray’s hand tipped slightly as he stepped forward. “You look... different. But still a disaster.”
Kyle laughed—a short, stunned sound. “You’re the disaster.”
Then, without meaning to, Kyle stepped closer. And so did Ray.
They hugged.
It wasn’t careful or polite. It was desperate. Arms around each other, tight, grounding. Kyle gripped Ray’s shirt like it was the only thing keeping him upright. And maybe it was.
Because for the first time in years, Kyle felt like he could breathe again.
---
Two years ago, Kyle was not this person. He wasn’t the boy calmly watering orchids or charming plant-loving titas at the register.
Kyle Arandia was an introvert. An anxious, emotionally exhausted boy who had never had real friends. He never knew how to open up to people—not until he ran away from home at twenty-three, escaping a catastrophic fight with his mother that left him with nothing but a packed duffel bag and a one-way boat ticket to Masbate, where his estranged father lived.
He stayed in the province for seven months—months that felt like years. Life in Masbate was slow, difficult. Surrounded by judgmental relatives, with money running low and anxiety building over the siblings he left behind, Kyle tried to pretend he was okay.
But he wasn’t. Not until he met Ray.
Ray had a laugh that cracked Kyle’s shell open, a presence that felt like safety. In the suffocating quiet of rural life, Ray had been the one constant light. His only friend. His anchor.
Then Kyle lost his phone during the boat ride to Sorsogon port.
No way to reach out. No number memorized. Just silence.
He always thought he’d go back someday. When things got better. When life gave him a break.
But life didn’t.
----
Coming home wasn't a relief.
It was a reality check.
His mother was pregnant again—this time by a man who vanished the second responsibility knocked. Their house was barely standing, patched with plywood and desperation. His younger sister Sera, working as a maid in Antipolo just to keep the lights on.
Kyle had no time to think of anyone else.
He worked as a store crew in a food stall in the Market. Long hours. Terrible pay. And when the shop near it's closure.
Then came, Mrs. Go. Appeared—like a plot twist in an otherwise tragic script. She was just a customer buying siopao. Friendly, chatty, the kind of woman who saw past Kyle’s rehearsed smile. While waiting for her ride, she mentioned a friend looking for someone to help run a plant shop.
Kyle didn’t know anything about plants.
But he was desperate.
That's how he found himself walking through the rows of Manila Seedling Bank, toward Greenhouse #3, 5th stall from the entrance. The shop was named Green Sprout Haven, and despite his nerves, Kyle faked a little confidence—and somehow, landed the job.
It wasn't glamorous. He didn't own the shop. But it gave him something he'd never had before: a routine, a calm place, a steady income.
he learned to care for plants. To speak to customer.
He even saved enough to buy the cheapest smartphone and tried—desperately—to find Ray online.
He even saved enough to buy the cheapest smartphone and tried—desperately—to find Ray online.
But no social media, no public trail. Just silence again.
He missed him. Every day. But life, as always, kept pushing him forward.
Until today.
Until now.
---
Back in the greenhouse, Kyle finally pulled away, just enough to see Ray’s face.
“I—I thought I lost you,” he murmured.
Ray gave him a crooked smile. “You almost did. But turns out, Dave recognized your dimple from a party.”
Kyle blinked and smile cheekily. “I don’t have a dimple.”
Ray snorted. “Yes, you do. The deepest of them all.”
Kyle smile showcasing his cute dimples.
Ray laughed. Amused at his friend playfulness pats his head out of fondness.
----
Kyle swallowed. “I lost my phone. And everything else went to hell after i came back.”
---
Ray nodded, silent for a moment. The he gestured around the shop. “So this is what you've been doing?”
Kyle smiled a little. “Yeah. It's not mine, but it's peaceful. And... kind.”
Ray's grin spread. “Sounds like you.”
Kyle snorted. “Please. i was a mess when you met me.”
“You're my mess,” Ray said. “You don't get to downplay that.”
And Kyle—just for a second—felt whole again.
“A friendship built in moments, but felt like a lifetime — my other half.”
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