JAY & KEIFER — WHAT THE NIGHT COULDN'T FINISH
Morning comes quietly.
Cruel in its normalcy.
The rain has thinned to a grey mist, the city breathing like nothing shattered overnight.
Keifer is still on the floor outside her door.
Curled on his side, jacket soaked through, knuckles scraped raw from knocking too hard, too long. His lips are blue. His body shivers violently—not from the cold alone.
"Jay," he whispers again.
Hoarse. Automatic. Like breathing.
Inside—
Jay hasn't moved.
She's still curled against the door, cheek pressed to the cold tile, tear tracks dried tight on her skin. Her breathing is shallow now, uneven, exhaustion finally dragging her under.
Her lips move faintly.
"Keifer…"
The door between them doesn't move.
---
PERCY'S POV —
After so long so I was back in manila I didn't even tell jay I was returning but I felt it....
I knew something's wrong before I even reach her floor.
The hallway smells like rain and metal and something rotten underneath—like regret that's been sitting too long.
Then I see him.
Keifer Watson.
Curled on the floor outside Jay's door like he ran out of reasons to stand.
His jacket is soaked. Hair plastered to his forehead. Lips moving.
"Jay…"
Over and over.
Soft. Broken. Unconscious.
My stomach drops.
"Oh no," I breathe, rushing forward. I crouch beside him, hand hovering because I don't even know where it's safe to touch someone this shattered.
He's shivering violently.
Not drama. Not drunken exaggeration.
Real. Body-failing shivers.
"Keifer," I say, louder now. "Hey. Wake up."
Nothing.
I look at the door.
Closed.
Too closed.
"Jay?" I call, knocking once. "Jay, open the door. Please."
No answer.
My chest tightens.
I knock harder. "Jay!"
Still nothing.
That's when panic crawls up my spine.
I don't think anymore.
I pull out the spare key.
My hands shake so badly it takes two tries.
The lock clicks.
The door swings open.
And—
She's on the floor.
Right against the door.
Like she collapsed the second she couldn't hold herself up anymore.
Jay looks small like this. Curled in on herself. Hair tangled. Tear tracks dried into her skin like scars.
Her lips are moving.
Barely.
"Keifer…"
That's when my fear turns into something colder.
Something heavier.
I drop to my knees beside her, fingers checking her pulse—weak but there. Thank God.
"Jay," I whisper urgently. "Jay, wake up."
She doesn't.
Behind me, Keifer lets out a broken sound—half sob, half breath—even unconscious.
I sit back on my heels.
Two people.
Destroyed.
By love.
By silence.
By thinking they knew better than each other.
I don't hesitate this time.
I grab my phone and dial.
Damian
He answers on the first ring.
"Percy,Bakit?" he asks.
No hello.
"Jay's condo," I say. "Now."
"I'm downstairs give me a min."
That makes my chest ache.
Of course he is.
Of course he knew.
Minutes later, he's there—eyes sharp, movements controlled, taking everything in at once like a battlefield.
His jaw tightens when he sees Jay.
His fists clench when he sees Keifer.
"Jesus," he mutters.
Together, we lift her first.
She's lighter than she should be.
Damian carries Keifer. He's dead weight, muscles rigid, lips still whispering her name like a prayer that won't be answered.
We lay them on the bed.
Opposite sides.
Space between them like a ceasefire neither one agreed to.
Damian pulls a blanket over them, hands steady even though his eyes aren't.
"They crashed," he says quietly. "Both of them."
I nod. "They stayed awake all night."
Damian exhales sharply. "Of course they did."
We step back.
Watch.
That's when it happens.
Jay shifts first.
Her brow furrows, breath hitching like she's reaching for something she lost. Her hand slides across the mattress, fingers curling instinctively.
Keifer stirs at the same moment.
Like his body knows before his mind does.
Their fingers touch.
Just barely.
Both of them unconscious.
Both of them still choosing each other without permission.
Jay exhales—a sound so relieved it hurts to hear—and rolls closer.
Keifer's arm comes around her automatically, pulling her into his chest like muscle memory never forgot.
She fits there.
Perfect.
Too perfect.
Her forehead presses into him. His chin rests in her hair.
Their breathing slows.
Synchronizes.
The tension drains from their bodies like they finally stopped fighting gravity.
I feel something crack in my chest.
Damian closes his eyes.
"Idiots," he mutters. Not cruel. Not angry.
Just tired.
I swallow hard. "They still love each other."
He doesn't look at me. "Yeah."
That's when I understand.
Love isn't saving them.
It's what keeps pulling them back into the fire.
Damian steps forward and draws the curtains closed.
The room dims.
"They'll wake up eventually," he says. "And it'll hurt again."
I nod.
Because I know.
But for now—
They sleep.
Entangled by instinct. By history. By a love that refuses to stay buried.
And all we can do—
Is let them rest.
Before the world asks them to choose again....
PERCY'S POV —
Keifer wakes slowly.
Not with panic.
Not with violence.
With exhaustion so deep it feels like peace.
His eyes open to warmth first.
Then breath.
Then—
Jay.
Curled into him like she never learned how not to be. Her fist tangled in his hoodie, forehead tucked under his chin, lashes resting against skin he once memorized in the dark.
For a second—just one—he forgets everything.
The fights.
The door.
The rain.
The damage.
His arm tightens instinctively.
She exhales. Soft. Familiar.
And I clear my throat.
Not loudly.
Not cruelly.
Just enough.
Keifer stiffens like he's been shot.
His eyes snap to me.
Reality slams back in.
He looks wrecked—eyes swollen, jaw unshaven, guilt written into every line of his face. He carefully loosens his hold on her, moving like she might shatter if he breathes wrong.
He slides out of the bed.
Jay murmurs something incoherent, reaching blindly for warmth that's already gone.
That almost stops him.
Almost.
He pulls a blanket over her instead, tucking it around her shoulders like it's the last thing he's allowed to give.
Then he follows me into the hall.
The door closes softly behind us.
---
"Leave, Keifer" I saidimmediately.
His voice isn't sharp.
It's empty.
"I can't," he reply.
He drags a hand through his hair, pacing once, twice. "Percy, please. I just— I need to be here when she wakes up."
I step into his path.
"No," I say calmly. "You don't."
His eyes flash. "You don't get to decide that."
"Yes," I say, meeting his gaze fully now. "I do."
That stops him.
Because I don't sound angry.
I sound certain.
"You're ruining each other," I continue quietly. "And I don't mean in a tragic, poetic way. I mean in the way that leaves permanent damage."
He swallows hard.
"I love her."
"I know," I say. "That's the problem."
His hands curl into fists. "I didn't mean to hurt her."
"I know," I repeat. "That doesn't undo it."
Silence stretches between us.
Then his voice cracks.
"I protected her."
"No," I correct gently. "You decided for her."
He looks away.
"I know everything," I add. "About the inheritance. About the elders. About the Watson's.About why you had to do. About why you panicked."
His head snaps back to me.
"She told you?"
"She didn't have to," I say. "I watched her disappear piece by piece. I watched her turn into someone sharp just to survive missing you."
That lands.
Hard.
"She's my babyy sister," I continue. "And she's been bleeding quietly for a long time."
His shoulders sag.
"And don't think I don't know but so have you too," I admit. "But right now? You're the trigger."
He laughs weakly. "So what—you want me to disappear again?"
"Yes," I say immediately.
Then soften.
"Just for now."
He looks at the closed bedroom door.
"I can't leave her like this."
"You already did," I say gently. "Last night was just the echo."
His jaw tightens.
"I need time," I tell him. "Let me talk to her. Let her wake up without you tearing the wound open again."
His breathing turns uneven.
"If she wants me gone," he says quietly, "I'll go."
I shake my head. "No. You'll go now. Before she has to choose while she's still bleeding."
He stands there for a long moment.
Then—
He nods.
Once.
Defeated.
"Take care of her," he says hoarsely.
I hold his gaze. "I always do."
He hesitates at the door one last time.
Doesn't open it.
Doesn't touch it.
Just whispers, barely audible—
"I love you, Jay."
Then he leaves.
The hallway swallows him whole.
I turn back toward the room.
Toward my sister.
Toward the aftermath of a love that didn't know how to stay gentle.
And I brace myself.
Because when Jay wakes up—
She's going to feel everything.