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The energy backstage was almost electric; ‘yung tipong ramdam mo sa balat mo ‘yung vibration ng crowd kahit sarado pa ang lahat ng pinto sa stage wings. Second act na, and the air carried that mix of adrenaline and nerves that only came during a sold-out night like this. The crew were moving in precise patterns, earpieces buzzing, stage managers barking quiet reminders, and somewhere beyond the curtain, the fans were already screaming for the next set.
Bri sat on one of the road cases pushed against the wall, his in-ears hanging loosely around his neck. He’d been here since soundcheck earlier, going over notes, checking cues, watching the earlier acts from the wings and staying put in the dressing room for the whole duration of the rehearsals kasi ayaw siyang pakilusin ni Chino. But now, he was waiting for their turn. The plan had been rehearsed the day before, a surprise performance of Never Not with Chino. Surprise for the crowd, at least. For Bri, it was something he had agreed to with a quiet nod the other day after Chino all but begged him to join him on stage. Chino stood a few feet away, adjusting his mic pack, but his eyes kept darting toward Bri. He couldn’t help it—seeing him like this, dressed for the stage under the warm, dim backstage lights, made his chest tighten. It wasn’t the kind of nerves that came from performing; it was something more dangerous, more vulnerable.
Lumapit siya, leaning one arm on the case beside Bri. “Bab,” he murmured, his voice low enough para sila lang ang makarinig, “ready ka na?”
Bri glanced up, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “Hindi, pero nandiyan ka naman.”
That answer alone made Chino smile, that slow, easy smile that had the power to ground him even before a big show. He reached out, brushing his fingers along Bri’s hand just for a second, a small connection hidden from the bustle around them. From the side, Jai gave the stage manager a nod, cue in five minutes. The whole team started shifting, subtle but synchronized. Chino straightened, inhaling deep, while Bri adjusted his in-ears, eyes flicking toward the curtain that hid thousands of expectant faces.
The music tech handed Chino a spare mic, and Chino turned to Bri, offering his free hand like it was second nature. “Let’s make them remember this,” he said, half a challenge, half a promise.
Bri didn’t take his hand immediately. Instead, he pushed himself off the case and fell into step beside him, the two of them walking toward stage left. Their shoulders brushed briefly but neither moved away.
Out front, the MC’s voice rose above the noise. “And now… a special performance you won’t want to miss!”
Bri felt the familiar spike of adrenaline as the lights dimmed, the opening chords of Never Not starting soft, almost intimate. Chino stepped forward first, the crowd erupting as his silhouette came into view. He turned halfway, his gaze finding Bri in the shadows. That was Bri’s cue. One step, then another, until he was beside Chino under the lights. Thousands of phones lighting up, the scream rolling over them like a wave. Chino started the first verse, voice steady, rich, pulling every eye in the arena toward them. Bri came in on harmony, their voices blending like they had been doing this for years.
For Bri, it was muscle memory; every note, every breath perfectly timed, but there was an edge to it tonight, a different kind of electricity humming under his skin. Maybe it was the crowd. Maybe it was Chino’s nearness. Maybe it was the knowledge that this song was theirs in more ways than anyone knew. As the first chorus hit, Chino stepped closer, singing like every word was meant for one person alone. Bri didn’t flinch from the attention. If anything, he met it head-on, eyes locked, lips curving as he sang back.
The hand-off was coming, but Bri didn’t know that yet. His mic was still warm in his hand when they hit the last line of the chorus together, his voice wrapping perfectly around Chino’s. He was expecting the smooth transition into Chino’s verse—because that’s how they rehearsed it. That’s how it should have gone. But before Chino could even lean into his mic, Jai stepped forward from the opposite side of the stage, Avi right beside him. The crowd’s scream hit a higher pitch, flashing lights catching the excitement like lightning in the dark.
Bri’s head turned slightly, confusion flickering in his eyes as Jai took the next line seamlessly. This wasn’t in yesterday’s practice. Avi’s voice joined in, and in seconds, the dynamic shifted. The two of them taking the lead, pulling the focus away from the center just enough to give Chino room to move. Room for something else. Bri kept his mic down for a beat too long, brows furrowing, before Chino’s hand found his. The contact was deliberate; warm, grounding, and impossible to ignore. Chino gave the smallest squeeze, the kind only Bri would notice, before gently tugging him toward center stage as Jai and Avi drifted off to the side, still singing.
“Bab,” Chino mouthed, just loud enough for Bri to catch over the music. His eyes didn’t waver.
Bri hesitated for half a second, his instinct screaming that something was about to happen, but the crowd’s energy pushed at his back, the lights felt hotter, and Chino’s hand was steady. That steadiness pulled him forward. The verse ended, rolling into the pre-chorus, and Jai and Avi carried it effortlessly, the spotlight now deliberately split between them and the center of the stage—where Bri and Chino stood face to face. The music swelled again, and for a second, Bri thought Chino might pull him back into the chorus. But instead, Chino lowered his mic, his free hand disappearing briefly into his back pocket.
Bri’s chest tightened, adrenaline shifting into something sharper. “Chino…” he started under his breath, but Chino only smiled, soft and sure, the kind of smile that had anchored him more than once.
The chorus exploded behind them—Jai and Avi’s voices soaring over the instrumental, the crowd singing along at the top of their lungs—and yet in the small bubble of light they were standing in, it felt impossibly quiet. It was only then that Bri realized Chino wasn’t just holding his hand. He was holding on like he had no plans of letting go. Bri felt the shift immediately. The crowd might have still been singing, but the air between them had thickened, charged with something different.
“Bab…” Chino’s voice didn’t need the mic to reach him. It was low, steady, carrying more weight than the moment should’ve allowed.
Bri shook his head faintly, half a smile tugging at his lips in disbelief. “Chino, anong ginagawa mo—”
But then Chino took a deep breath, and instead of answering him directly, he turned toward the crowd. The spotlight followed, bathing both of them in gold while Jai and Avi continued the chorus at the side of the stage, giving them space but keeping the energy alive.
“I’ve been holding onto this for a long time,” Chino began, his voice deepening as it echoed through the arena. “And tonight feels like the only right time to finally say it. Where it all began, with the people who’ve been here from day one.”
The cheers grew louder, but Chino’s eyes found Bri again, grounding himself before continuing.
“You know him as Bri Ramos, the person who keeps us on schedule, who manages the chaos, who tells me when I’m being an idiot—which, honestly, is a lot.” That earned a small laugh from the audience, and Bri rolled his eyes, shaking his head with a mix of embarrassment and nervousness.
“But what most of you don’t know,” Chino pressed on, his tone softening now, “is that before he was our manager, before he was the one holding this group together from the shadows… he was supposed to be one of us.”
The crowd gasped, a wave of murmurs rushing through the seats. Bri blinked, caught between wanting to pull his hand away and knowing it would look even stranger if he did.
Chino’s smile turned a little sad. “Bri trained with us, he aughed with us, and he cried with us more than anyone else did. He was part of NXTHRMNY before NXTHRMNY even had a name. And one of the first songs we ever worked on together was this one—Never Not.”
He glanced briefly at Jai and Avi, who nodded in unspoken support. “He co-wrote it with me. Every word, every note you’ve been singing tonight—half of that is his heart.”
Bri swallowed hard, heat flooding his face, the weight of so many eyes pressing into him. But Chino wasn’t done. His hand slipped from Bri’s only to reach into his jacket again. When it came back out, there was a small black box in his palm. And that was when Bri’s breath caught completely. The moment Chino’s fingers curled around that small velvet box, the crowd’s noise shifted. Cheers turning into gasps, screams, and a frantic kind of chanting that made the air buzz with anticipation.
Bri froze, staring at it like it wasn’t real, like if he blinked too fast the whole thing would disappear. Chino didn’t rush. He stood there, the stage lights catching in the edges of his jaw and the shine in his eyes, one hand holding the mic, the other steady around the box. His chest rose and fell, the kind of breath you take before doing something that will change everything. He turned fully to Bri now, every word meant for him and no one else.
“Bri Ramos,” he began, and then paused, soft smile curling his lips. “Or, as I’ve known you long before the stage name, long before the world even knew me… Brielle Elizalde.”
It was like the stadium collectively inhaled. The name alone was enough to spark whispers, to confirm the connection to the Senator without Chino having to say it outright. Bri’s eyes widened, his lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came out.
Chino’s voice gentled, carrying warmth even as it shook slightly. “I met you when I was just Chiandro Larrazabal, a kid trying to figure out who he was, and you… you were this bright, stubborn, ridiculously talented person who saw me for me, not for what I could be on stage.”
Bri’s throat tightened. The noise of the crowd dimmed in his ears but all he could hear was Chino’s voice, low and unwavering.
“You’ve been my anchor through every storm. My partner in every win and every loss—even before we ever called each other that. You’ve held me together when I didn’t think I could stand, and you’ve loved me in ways I didn’t even think I deserved.”
The box opened. Inside, the ring caught the stage lights and threw them back in a thousand tiny sparks.
Chino took a step closer, his voice steady despite the lump in his throat. “I don’t want to spend another day pretending like I’m not yours in every way that matters. I don’t want the world to keep guessing, and I don’t want you to ever doubt where my heart is.”
He dropped to one knee.
“Brielle Elizalde,” he said, his gaze locked on Bri’s tear-brimmed eyes, “will you marry me?”
The crowd erupted—screams, cheers, and more phones held high. But Bri wasn’t looking at them. His vision blurred with tears as he pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to breathe past the weight in his chest. For a moment, Bri couldn’t move. The lights were too bright, the cheers too loud, and yet all of it seemed so far away, like he and Chino were the only two people standing on that stage.
“Bub…” he breathed out, his voice trembling just enough to crack. His free hand clutched the mic like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
Chino’s eyes didn’t waver. Kneeling there, ring in hand, he looked steady in a way that made Bri’s chest ache.
Bri lowered the mic slightly, speaking just for him, voice raw. “Do you even know what you’re asking?”
Chino’s lips curved just faintly. “Matagal ko nang alam, Bab.”
The tears Bri had been holding back finally slipped free, warm against his cheeks. “I—” He cut himself off, pressing his fist to his mouth, overwhelmed.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Jai and Avi at the edge of the stage, watching them with grins that could barely be contained. The rest of the band stood in the shadows, eyes shining, the crowd chanting his name now alongside Chino’s.
Bri took a shaky breath, lowering his fist, and finally—finally—nodded. “Yes.”
The crowd exploded. The sound was deafening, a wave of screams and cheers crashing over them as Chino stood, slipping the ring onto Bri’s finger with careful, deliberate precision. Bri stared at the band of metal hugging his skin, chest tight. It was perfect. Chino set the mic aside and pulled him in. Not rushing, just closing the space between them until they were forehead to forehead. The stadium noise dimmed in Bri’s ears again, replaced by the faint thrum of his own pulse.
“I love you. Mahal ko kayong dalawa,” Chino murmured, the words almost lost under the roar.
Bri’s lips trembled, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, teary smile. “I love you too.”
As the cheers swelled again, Chino’s arm slid around him in what looked like a casual embrace, but his other hand found its way lower, resting gently against Bri’s still-unnoticeable bump. The movement was subtle, hidden from every angle except between the two of them, but the touch was steady and protective. Bri’s breath hitched for a split second, his eyes flicking to Chino’s, but he didn’t move away. He only tightened his hold on him, letting the warmth of Chino’s palm anchor him in the chaos.
The kiss came naturally. No fanfare, no overthinking, just a press of lips in the middle of the stage, in the middle of their song, under the weight of the lights and the eyes of thousands. When they pulled back, Jai and Avi stepped forward seamlessly, picking up the next lines of the song, their voices blending effortlessly into the melody. Chino and Bri stayed in the center, still holding each other’s hands, swaying gently to the beat while the rest of the band carried the moment forward.
And though the set wasn’t over, everyone in that stadium knew they’d just witnessed the real finale.
The cheers were still echoing through the arena, the spotlights chasing the last few beats of Never Not into silence. Bri was still catching his breath, mic lowered at his side, when Chino reached for his hand again. It was supposed to be just for the final bow, just so they could walk off stage together, but Bri felt the way Chino’s fingers tightened, like he wasn’t ready to let go yet. The crowd was on their feet, phones still up and the low hum of their excitement was a living thing around them. But at that moment, Bri didn’t hear any of it. What cut through instead was Chino’s voice, low and meant only for him.
“You did amazing, Bab,” he murmured, leaning in just enough that their shoulders brushed. His breath was warm against Bri’s ear. “And I’m so proud of you.”
Bri let out a quiet laugh, soft enough that it didn’t carry past the front row. “Parang ikaw lang kumanta sa last part.”
Chino smirked, eyes glinting in the stage light. “Maybe. Pero ikaw at ikaw lang ang rason why it mattered.”
Bri shook his head, but he didn’t pull away when Chino’s free hand drifted between them, low enough that no camera could see, palm settling over the flat plane of his stomach. It was just the lightest pressure, a secret anchor point between them. He didn’t press, didn’t make it obvious, he just held there for a beat longer than necessary. Bri’s breath hitched, and for a split second, his fingers tightened around Chino’s in return.
“You okay?” Chino asked, his voice barely a whisper under the fading roar of the audience.
“Mm-hm,” Bri hummed, eyes flicking toward the sea of faces before settling back on Chino. “Better than okay.”
The stage director was already motioning from the wings, ready for Bri to step down first, but Chino leaned in again, his forehead almost touching Bri’s. “I’ll walk you down,” he said firmly. “Not letting go until I have to.”
Bri didn’t argue. Not when the warmth of Chino’s hand was still pressed over his stomach, not when that same warmth was in his voice. And so they stepped off the stage together, still holding hands, still caught in their own little world even with thousands watching, each step carrying the weight of the song, the night, and the quiet promise only the two of them knew.
The instant they stepped past the curtain, the deafening cheers faded into the muffled buzz of backstage. Still loud, still electric, but no longer overwhelming. The cool rush of the arena’s back hallway hit Bri’s skin, and he exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Chino still hadn’t let go of his hand. In fact, his grip had only gotten more certain, more protective, as if walking off stage meant he could finally allow himself to show it. The other members were scattered in various states of post-performance adrenaline—Jai bouncing on his heels with that unstoppable grin, Avi already guzzling half a bottle of water, Lex talking to the stage manager with an arm draped over his towel. They all glanced at Bri and Chino, but no one said anything.
“You need to sit,” Chino said quietly, steering Bri toward a small couch tucked in the far corner where the lighting was dimmer.
“I’m fine,” Bri replied, but there was no conviction behind it. His shoulders sank into the cushions almost instantly, betraying the truth.
Chino crouched in front of him, ignoring the bustle around them, his hands braced on either side of Bri’s knees. “Bab,” he murmured, his voice low and steady in a way that pulled Bri’s attention from everything else, “you just did that in front of thousands of people and you were perfect. Now, hayaan mong alagaan man lang kita for five minutes bago kami umakyat ulit.”
Bri’s lips quirked into a soft smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes because he was still processing everything—the performance, the way Chino had looked at him under those lights, and the secret touch over his stomach.
“You already are,” Bri said quietly.
Chino’s jaw flexed like he wanted to say something more, but instead, he reached for the water bottle on the table, twisted the cap, and handed it to him. “You drink, para kumalma ka kahit paano.”
Bri obeyed, taking a small drink, the cool water grounding him. And yet, his eyes stayed on Chino. “Bub… hindi ka pa ba magpapalit ng damit para sa encore?”
Chino shook his head. “Mamaya na. Right now, you’re my priority.”
From somewhere near the equipment racks, Sen called out, “Five minutes ‘til encore!”
Chino glanced over his shoulder, then back at Bri. The noise around them faded again, like the world had shrunk to just the two of them. He leaned in, one hand resting lightly on Bri’s thigh, the other brushing against his forearm.
“You have no idea how much I wanted this,” Chino said softly. “Hindi lang ‘yung makasama ka sa isang stage. Ito—” His eyes flicked down briefly, just enough for Bri to know exactly what he meant without him saying it. “—all of it. And now that I have it, Bab, wala nang makakaalis nito sa’kin.”
Bri felt his chest tighten, warmth curling deep inside. The same warmth he’d felt when Chino’s palm had rested over his stomach, hidden from the world.
“Hindi mo naman kailangan sabihin ‘yan dito,” Bri murmured, almost shy.
“I need to say it everywhere,” Chino countered, his voice firm but quiet. “Every chance I get.”
Lex’s voice echoed again, closer this time. “Two minutes, guys!”
Chino straightened, but not before brushing his knuckles against Bri’s knee. A small, grounding gesture. “Stay here ‘til they call you for the finale, susunduin kita mamaya.”
And for once, Bri didn’t argue. He just watched Chino walk away, the thrum of the stage still in his bones, the echo of those words still in his chest.
The deafening chant of “NXTHRMNY! NXTHRMNY!” rolled like thunder across the arena. Bri stood just offstage, the glow of the lights bleeding into the wings, making the air shimmer. From here, the crowd was a living, breathing thing. Thousands of voices moving as one, their energy vibrating through the metal under his shoes.
“You ready?” Chino’s low voice brushed against his ear.
Bri gave a small smile and nodded. Still, Chino held out his hand like it was second nature. “Come on, Bab. They’re waiting for you.”
They stepped into the wing together, and the MC’s voice rang clear over the sound system.
“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s show is more than just music, it’s the people behind it. The ones who’ve been here through every rehearsal, every sleepless night, and every storm. Please welcome NXTHRMNY’s managers—Jael Lazarte and Bri Ramos—alongside Orbyt’s very own CEO, Aden Lazarte!”
From the opposite side of the stage, Jael emerged, one hand resting protectively over his six-month bump, the other linked with Aden’s arm. The roar of the crowd doubled as they emerged. Bri took his first step onto the stage, Chino instinctively falling into step beside him, not as part of the formal call, but as if gravity pulled him there. The members spread out, breaking formation to greet them one by one.
Lex, ever the dependable leader, was the first to speak into the mic. “Kung may award lang para sa pinakamahabang pasensya sa industriya, sila na ‘yon. Bri, Kuya Jael, salamat kasi kahit minsan gusto niyo na kaming sakalin, minahal niyo pa rin kami. Kung wala kayo, matagal na kaming nagkawatak-watak. Syempre kay boss Aden, salamat sa paniniwala sa amin at sa hindi pagbitaw kahit sobrang sudden ng proposal naming mag hiatus as a group five years ago.”
The crowd laughed warmly, but Lex’s eyes softened when they met Bri’s, a silent “I’m proud of you” passing between them.
Sen took the mic next, grinning. “Alam niyo, hindi lang kami pinapakain ng maayos ng mga ‘to, literal na silang dalawa ang tumatayong mga magulang namin tuwing may trabaho. Alam kong hindi biro ‘yung stress sa likod ng stage, pero andiyan pa rin kayo palagi. Na kahit anong mangyari, alam naming may sasalo sa amin.”
Jai stepped forward with his signature smirk, but his voice wavered slightly. “Bri, Kuya Jael, salamat. Hindi lang sa pagiging managers namin, pero sa pagiging pamilya. Kahit anong sablay namin on or off stage, hindi niyo kami iniwan.” His gaze flicked to Bri, holding there for a moment longer, the sincerity clear despite the spotlight glare. “Pati kay boss na alam naming may shared burden sa stress ni kuya Jael, salamat kasi hindi mo siya binawi sa amin nung nagsimula na kayong bumuo ng sarili niyong pamilya.”
Avi followed, more reserved but no less heartfelt. “You’ve been with us since day one. Alam namin na hindi kayo nakikita sa mga music videos or posters, pero kayo ‘yung tunay na glue namin. Salamat sa lahat ng sacrifices na ginawa niyo para sa pamilyang binuo natin.”
Then came Wacky, grinning like he had a secret but speaking with surprising warmth. “Kung meron mang taong pwedeng sumigaw sa amin kahit saan, sila ‘yon… at okay lang sa amin. Kasi alam naming galing sa pagmamahal ‘yon. Bri, salamat sa pagbibigay ng oras mo, ‘di lang sa banda kundi pati sa pamilyang binuo namin ni Lex. You made our life easier by stepping in whenever we needed help with Lucas.”
Finally, Chino stepped forward. The mic in his hand caught the light, but his eyes were fixed only on Bri. “Bab… alam mo naman siguro na hindi ako magaling sa ganitong salitaan in front of a crowd. Pero… thank you. Hindi lang para sa music, kundi para sa lahat. Kahit noong wala pa akong karapatan sa buhay mo, andiyan ka na para sa akin. Kaya salamat, dahil pinili mo pa rin maging parte nito, at pinili mo ako. Kuya, boss, salamat for the support. I’ll forever be grateful sa inyong mag asawa for being there for the whole band.”
The crowd cheered at his words, some fans squealing at the subtle confession. Bri felt the warmth creep up his neck, but before he could react, Chino’s hand slid to the small of his back. The touch was perfectly hidden from the audience by their positioning, but Bri felt the firm, steady pressure right where his hand sometimes lingered in private.
The moment stretched as the applause rose again. Then Jai took the mic once more, pulling everyone—members, managers, and boss Aden—into a line. “Fifteen years of NXTHRMNY, and this is our family. Salamat sa lahat ng sumama sa journey namin.”
They bowed deeply, the cameras flashing in a sea of light, the sound of thousands chanting their name echoing through the stage. Chino’s hand didn’t leave Bri’s back the entire time like a silent promise he had no intention of breaking.
The lights dimmed, the roar of the crowd softened into a lingering hum that seemed to vibrate in Bri’s chest long after they had stepped offstage. The curtains swallowed them whole, shielding them from the flash of cameras and the relentless glow of the spotlights. Behind the drapes, the world shifted instantly, from the structured chaos of the stage to the barely controlled frenzy of backstage. Staff members darted in every direction, headsets crackling, makeup artists clutching retouch kits, tech crew lugging coiled cables across the narrow walkways. The air was thick with sweat, perfume, and the faint metallic tang of adrenaline still rushing through everyone’s veins.
Bri felt it all pressing in at once, the weight of the moment they’d just been part of, the noise that refused to settle in his ears. He wasn’t even sure where to step without bumping into someone. Then, like it had been rehearsed a hundred times, Chino’s hand found his again. No words, just the warm, steady grip pulling him slightly away from the crush of people.
“Bab,” Chino murmured, leaning down just enough so only Bri could hear him over the din, “breathe muna tayo.”
Bri didn’t argue. He let Chino guide him toward one of the smaller corridors where the stage lighting bled only faintly, the air cooler, quieter. Chino positioned himself between Bri and the passing staff, his frame instinctively shielding him.
“Okay ka lang?” Chino’s voice was low, but his eyes scanned him the way someone might study the fragile edges of glass.
Bri nodded, though his throat felt tight. “Yeah… medyo overwhelmed lang.”
Chino’s lips curved faintly. “I know. I saw your face when everyone was thanking you. Bab, they meant every word.” His thumb brushed along the back of Bri’s hand, grounding him.
They didn’t get long. Jai’s voice echoed from somewhere down the hallway, calling Chino back for the encore huddle. But before he could move, Chino stepped closer, his free hand ghosting over Bri’s belly. It was the lightest touch, quick and discreet, hidden completely by the fall of his jacket and the angle of their bodies.
Bri glanced up sharply, but Chino only smiled, eyes soft. “Just making sure,” he whispered.
Bri’s answer was wordless, a small, almost shy squeeze of Chino’s fingers before letting him go. As Chino jogged back toward the others, he glanced over his shoulder, catching Bri still standing there, watching him. It wasn’t the public kind of gaze they’d shared onstage earlier. This one was private—something only they knew how to read.
And in that split second, before the noise of the finale swallowed them again, Bri knew exactly what that look meant… Hang on, Bab. We’re almost home.
Bri stayed tucked into the side corridor, watching from the wings as Chino, Lex, Wacky, Jai, Avi, and Sen made their way back onto the stage for the encore. He could hear the opening notes swell, the deafening cheer of the crowd rising like a wave. The sound wrapped around him, filling the space in his chest where nerves and adrenaline still hummed. From here, the stage looked both impossibly close and worlds away. Kuya Jael sat a few feet from him with Boss Aden nearby, both of them watching with quiet pride. Bri didn’t need to be out there to feel the moment; he’d lived it with them in every rehearsal and every sleepless night leading up to tonight.
The boys’ and Avi’s voices floated back to him, riding the energy of thousands. Jai spoke first, thanking the fans for being their anchor through a five-year silence. Avi’s words came next, easy and heartfelt, thanking those who never stopped streaming their songs or sending them messages. Wacky, ever the joker, cracked one line that made the crowd erupt in laughter before his voice softened with emotion. Lex kept it short but steady, promising that they will see more of him on future solo endeavors. Sen’s low, calm gratitude landed like a quiet vow. Then Chino. Bri didn’t even need to see him to feel the difference in his tone. Warmer, deeper, and carrying that careful weight he always had when things truly mattered.
“Fifteen years,” Chino said, his voice carrying over the roar, “and it’s still you who make this worth it. Salamat sa pagmamahal, sa tiwala, at sa pagbabalik. We’re here because of you.”
The arena answered with a swell that rattled the walls. Bri caught himself smiling, his chest tightening in that way it always did when Chino was in his element.
The final song closed, the lights dimmed, and the six of them slipped back into the wings, sweat-damp, flushed, and still grinning. Chino found him instantly, cutting through the blur of crew and cables, his hand slipping into Bri’s without missing a step. He didn’t speak, but the curl of his fingers around Bri’s said I’m here.
Backstage emptied in waves, but the pull outside was stronger. A staff member ushered them toward one of the side exits, where their families were waiting. The air outside was thick with Manila’s warm night, the faint scent of asphalt and street food mixing with the hum of voices. Fans had gathered beyond the barricades, phones up, the glow of screens cutting through the dim.
Bri saw them first, his mom, his dad, and kuya Gab, all standing just a few steps from Chino’s parents. The sight alone made his feet slow. It was strange, seeing the two worlds side by side—Senator Elizalde and Dr. Larrazabal, both public figures in their own right, flanked by their children’s siblings, meeting in the warm spill of the venue lights.
Chino gave his hand a squeeze, and together they closed the distance. His mom’s smile was shaky but full, pulling him into her arms with a tenderness that felt like home. His dad followed, the weight of the Senator’s embrace wordless but sure. Kuya Gab stepped in last, pressing a hand briefly to the back of his neck before letting go. Across from them, Chino’s mom greeted Bri warmly, her gaze flicking briefly but knowingly to his midsection. Chino’s dad, quieter but just as present, gave him a nod of respect.
From beyond the barricades, the fans’ voices rose… not in screams, but in a softer kind of noise. Phones captured every angle, but for once, the flash of cameras didn’t feel invasive. They were simply witnessing two families, side by side, the unspoken truth between Bri and Chino quietly settled in the space between their joined hands. After a few minutes, staff began ushering everyone toward the waiting cars. The goodbyes were quick but warm, promises to meet again soon exchanged in low voices.
In the back seat of Chino’s car, the city lights spilled across their faces in gold and shadow as they pulled away from the venue. Their driver kept his focus on the road, the divider up just enough to give them their own quiet pocket of the night. Bri leaned into Chino’s side, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. His head rested against Chino’s shoulder, the slow rhythm of the ride lulling him. Chino’s arm curved around him, drawing him in until there was no space left between them.
“You okay, Bab?” Chino’s voice was low, almost blending into the hum of the tires.
Bri nodded without lifting his head. “Mhm. Just… tired. But I'm happy. Like, really happy.”
Chino’s lips brushed the top of his hair, lingering. “You should be. You were amazing. Tonight was amazing, because you were part of it.”
Bri huffed softly, the sound more like a smile. “I still feel weird about the attention.”
“Hindi mo kailangang isipin ‘yan ngayon, mahal,” Chino murmured, his palm sliding, slow and deliberate, to rest against Bri’s stomach, hidden from any view but his own. His thumb traced an idle pattern there, protective even in stillness. “What matters is… we’re going home. You, me, and our little one.”
Bri’s breath hitched faintly, but it wasn’t from nerves. “Yeah. We’re going home.”
The streets blurred past in streaks of light, and for the first time all night, the noise fell away completely. In the quiet, wrapped in Chino’s arms, Bri let himself believe that maybe they’d already arrived home—in each other’s arms.