DO I SEE DEAD PEOPLE?

D. J SERRANO'S POV

“What are you doing here?”

I stared at her, trying to figure out what to say. Then I posed the question to myself. What was I doing here?

‘Hiding,’ I realized. ‘I am hiding-hiding from my family.’ But the words didn't come out.

A long time ago, when I thought I knew what family meant- this was a really long time ago- I asked my father why he loved to hurt us so much. Did he hate us?

He’d looked me in the eyes and said, "It's the people we love that we hurt the most."

I didn't believe him.

But as I'd walked into Chemistry class on that Monday afternoon, right after lunch, and seen Miss Martina Dela Reyes standing in front of the class room with a ridiculously wide smile on her face, I was forced to reconsider.

She had loved my Enrique. Enough to be with him the way she had. Enough to defy our father and bear his child.

Hell, she had given up everything for him at the end of the day. But no one had ever hurt my brother the way she had. Except my father.

I was so angry at her. What gave her that right?

"Welcome back to school, my beautiful students! Are you guys ready for some Chemistry?"

Amidst some groans and a few enthusiastic whoops, her eyes had met mine.

"Ay! It's like we have a new student in our midst this semester." She'd beamed at me, displaying her dimples. 'She was sort of beautiful and definitely cute,' I'd thought. I could see why Enrique had fallen so hard for her.

"And who might you be, young man?"

I’d stood up and given her my most disinterested look. It was the well-practiced mask of complete and utter boredom, that had been my trademark expression when Dad was still...conscious.

"D. J," I’d said sardonically. "Daniel. Juansen. Serrano."

It’d been too hard to suppress my triumphant glee when all color drained from her face with no warning. Then, in a split second, I’d gone from being gleeful to being afraid. Enrique was NOT going to take this news well; the fact that his ex-girlfriend – essentially, the one who’d gotten away – was here in Cebu. And that there were so many things he didn’t know. So many things our mother and grandmother hadn’t told him. Well, one thing in particular; that he’d had a daughter, and she had died.

Some people would say that I was a mean bastard.

But I couldn't even begin to compare with Enrique Serrano II. My older brother might be a big pushover for me and Lalanita but he was very, very good at keeping that side of him away from everybody else. In fact, he was so good that words like "ruthless" and "cold" may likely be encountered when you Googled his name.

Looking Miss Martina - Veronica - straight in the eyes at that moment, I could see why she’d stayed away. Why she’d run and never come back, and why my mother had helped her; we Serranos had a way of hurting good things, and destroying the ones we loved.

“D.J, are you okay?”

Concerned brown eyes stared into my own, pulling me back into the present. Emmy. She’d asked me a question, and I was floundering. I couldn’t tell her I was hiding. I couldn’t tell her half the things on my mind, and my issues with my messed up family. So, I did the same thing I’d been taught to do since I could talk. I forced a smile, and lied. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? It’s just…you had this distant look in your eyes.”

‘Oh, she wasn’t about to let this go,’ I thought in a weird sort of panic.

“No, really. I’m good.” I kept nodding as I lied through my teeth. Then I remembered her first question. “I’m here to sample the food. Uh…I’ll have the sinigang.”

EMMY MENDOZA'S POV

Childhood friends have a way of crawling under your skin. I knew that because of my special bond with Sarah, and Inigo. I’d known Inigo since forever, and he was family. But Sarah, I'd met her when I was twelve, on my first day in St. Lorenzo. I knew how easy it could be to spend time with people you’d forged a connection with in your early years; but the way I felt about D.J still took me by surprise. It was easy. Too easy to be with him. But it was also exciting. And just a little bit terrifying.

I still couldn't believe he was here.

I was happy he was here. But my hands still shook as I placed the bowl in front of him. Here was my childhood crush – the one unattainable person I’d let myself want for over seven years – and he was sitting in my father’s restaurant, in the same spot I’d first met him all those years ago. Naturally, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

He ate his soup in silence. His eyes roamed the restaurant as if he was remembering a memory that was both pleasant and sad, and I wondered if he was thinking about that day – the very first day we met – and how happy he’d been, just sitting there, laughing and chatting with his mother and brother. He was no longer that little boy, and I wondered exactly how much he’d changed. Because I was me, I set right out on a mission to find out.

Today, ‘Emilio’s’ wasn’t empty. Business was moving, but things were slow; there were only a few other customers at the tables. So, I could spare a few minutes. Wordlessly, I took a sit in front of D.J, and stared straight into his eyes.

“So, why do you think about killing yourself at the beach?”

Instantly, two things happened at once:

First, he choked on his spicy-as-hell sinigang.

Secondly, I absolutely regretted that question - just letting it slip out like that - and immediately reached for his water.

“Breathe, D.J,” I said with false calm as I held the glass of water to his lips, patting his back intermittently.

“Em-” he coughed out, trying to speak through the effects of the soup that had gone the wrong way, after a few sips.

“Drink the water. Just drink, don’t talk.”

He waved me off. With widened eyes, he stared at a spot behind my shoulders. Pointing.

“Emmy, your dad.”

“What? Where?” Just like that, I turned so fast that my head spun. I knew it was silly, I couldn’t stop myself from looking. And from feeling like an absolute fool afterwards.

“Why would you even joke like that?” I asked feeling embarrassed and angry. Embarrassed to have been hopeful for one tiny fraction of a second that my deceased father could somehow be here. And angry at the ides of having a crush on someone who could be such an insensitive jerk. “My dad is dead,” I gritted out.

“I know,” he whispered fearfully, clenching my hand tightly. “But I swear, I’m looking at him right now.”

MARIO GUEVARRA'S POV

When my phone rang for what was probably the hundredth time, I finally answered the call. I used to think my mother was the most persistent woman on Earth. Then, I met Laila Godenzano. No, that's not right- then I stole her from Daniel, would be more accurate.

It was supposed to be a little fling.

But here she was; hanging on to me like I was her lifeline.

"What?"

"Good evening to you to, Mario," she snapped back.

I exhaled. "How may I be of service to you Laila? No, what I really mean is, we broke up. Stop calling my phone."

"You're such an arrogant pig."

"You had no objections when you were cheating on D. J with me."

She gave a bitter laugh. "You told me you loved me. You said you and I were meant to be together and that Daniel would understand because he didn't really care about me."

"So I lie sometimes," I admitted. "Get some dignity and get over it."

"You're so cold, Mario," she said in a pained voice. "And that's why you'll always be alone."

I swallowed down my pain. Her words actually stung.

"Is that what you called to tell me? Are we done here?"

"No," she said, regaining some of her bite. "Where is Daniel?"

"I don't know. He could be anywhere in the world. Why don't you try calling him- maybe if you keep blowing up his phone like you've been calling mine all day-"

She cut me off. "His line is disconnected."

I already knew that.

"Maybe he blocked your number. I should probably do the same," I needled.

"I thought he did, at first. But I've tried using other numbers to call him. I even paid someone to track his line-"

"Are you crazy?"

"What else was I supposed to do? He tried to kill himself! Because of us! Don't you care about him? He's your best friend."

Another burst of pain bloomed in my chest.

"First of all, there is no "us". Get that through your dumb skull, Laila. Secondly, I'll admit that maybe- just maybe- the fact that we fooled around behind his back may have contributed to...the events of that night."

I still couldn't bring myself to say the word. Suicide. My best friend tried to commit suicide because of me- and some crazy chick.

"But thirdly, I do care about D. J-"

"Yeah, right," Laila scoffed. "That's why you always steal his girlfriends. You know, I was warned about you but I didn't listen."

"That's your problem," I said dismissively. "As I was saying, I care about D. J. It may not seem like it, but it's the truth. The guy is basically a brother to me."

"You're sick."

"So are you, darling," I retorted into the phone. "Look, if you've been reading the news, you'd know that his brother just moved their company's headquarters to Cebu. Their grandmother lives there and she's the only other family they have left."

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong, a voice in my head screamed at me. I ignored it.

"Odds are, D. J is also staying with them. It's so obvious."

"You don't think they sent him away?" Laila asked quietly. "It would make sense. He deleted all his social media accounts and cut his ties with everyone. I wouldn't be surprised if he was no longer in the Philippines. Maybe he's in some psychiatric facility somewhere and we're just sitting here, doing nothing."

I chuckled. "You don't know Enrique very well, do you? D. J is all he has left; it'll take a whole lot more than that to make him send his precious little brother away."

"Mario, he tried to kill himself," Laila repeated.

"You keep saying it," I muttered drily. "If it was you, wouldn't your parents shower you with more family bonding time and all that shit? Or would they just cart you off to some psychiatric facility abroad?

Her resounding silence was answer enough.

"Shit! They would, wouldn't they? That's why you're so worried about D. J," I mused out loud. "That's really fucked up, Laila. No wonder you're so clingy."

"Can you get me his number? His grandmother's address? Anything at all? You can't really be so useless, Mario. Does your fan club know you're a useless piece of shit?"

"I'll ignore that, Laila- chuck it up to temporary insanity due to anxiety. Just remember that I warned you," I cautioned.

She scoffed.

"I'll see what I can do," I said finally. "I'm sure I can get you his grandmother's address- not sure what you'll do with it, by the way. But I really haven't been in contact with him. I don't have his new number. However, we both know someone who might. Take a wild guess."

"It's that rat, Ivan, isn't it?" She hissed.

"Bingo."

"He told me he didn't have it. He looked me straight in the eye and told me he wasn't in contact with D.J."

"Well, this may come as a shock to you, Laila, but I'm not the only person who tells lies," I gloated. "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you're especially gullible."

"Screw you."

"Ouch, Laila. You wound me," I said sardonically. "The next time you call me, it better be important."

"Assho-"

I cut the call before she finished. I could have blocked her number immediately.

I should have blocked her number a long time ago.

But as long as Daniel was still M. I. A, I couldn't bring myself to do that. She and Ivan were bridges that could possibly lead me back to D. J.

On my own, there was nothing I could do.

Enrique had my hands tied.

I recalled the night of the…incident:

"When I’d heard the sirens on the street, I hadn't thought much of it. Our neighborhood was the type of place where some people could call an ambulance for something as little as a splinter. By the time I knew what had really happened, D. J was already at the hospital. Wasn't it ironic that at the time my best-friend was slitting his wrists, I was kissing his girlfriend at a party I’d thrown at my house?

When I’d finally showed up at the hospital the next day, I was seriously hungover. Laila was already there. Enrique had looked like he had spent the night. That was the most disheveled I had ever seen him. He’d certifiably looked like shit. His eyes had been almost as red as mine. At least I could have blamed the alcohol. He’d been pacing the halls all through the night, while the doctors were trying to save his brother's life.

"What happened, Mario?"

That was the first question he’d asked me. And I knew he knew.

He knew that whatever had incited D. J's suicide attempt was my fault. Enrique had never really approved of my friendship with Daniel. After their parents' accident two years ago, when D. J started spiraling into the deep end, he could barely tolerate me.

He thought I was a bad influence on his brother.

But that wasn't new.

That wasn't the point since Enrique wasn't a saint himself.

The reason behind his disappointment was crystal clear to me.

He wasn't just blaming me for influencing Daniel's behavior, he was making me responsible for his brother's every action. He expected me to be the one to pull Daniel back from the edge he was clearly standing on. He wanted me to be his brother's keeper. That was funny because... couldn't he see that I needed a savior, myself?

It was unfair of him to expect so much from me.

"I'll ask you one more time; what the hell happened last night with D. J? Did you say anything to him?"

I’d known what he was implying, so I shook my head.

Had I told D. J about Althea? No.

It killed me to keep it from him, but I knew he would hate me forever if he ever found out. Bros may come before hos. But nobody could ever hold a candle to a brother's mother.

"I didn't tell him anything-"

That was the moment Laila had decided to interrupt our conversation, and just like that, my chances of reconciling with D. J went down the toilet. I literally heard a flushing sound in my head.

"D.J found out about us."

"Us." Enrique's tone had been dangerously calm.

‘Shit. This was not good,’ I’d thought panicking.

"Shut up, Laila."

"You and who?"

"Mario," Laila had possessed the grace to look embarrassed. There she was, admitting an affair with her boyfriend's best- friend, to her boyfriend's older brother and sole legal guardian. She had guts, I'd give her that.

"Mario and I have been secretly dating behind Daniel's back." She reached out for my hand, I’d slapped it away. Her eyes then widened in surprise.

‘What did she think was going to happen?’ I’d wondered. ‘That she'd declare her undying love for me and we'd fight for our love? This wasn't Romeo and Juliet.’

"He doesn't even love her!" I exclaimed. "And neither do I!"

"Mario!" Why had Laila looked so shocked? Did she really think I loved her?

"Did you really believe you were anything more than a fling?

"You told me you loved me," she’d said with tears pooling in her eyes. "Just last night-"

"What? You think I meant any of that?"

A tear had slid down her cheek.

I’d known I was being cruel. But I just couldn't stop. I blamed the pounding headache and the hangover. Blamed the anger I felt towards her; why had she even opened her big mouth? She was going to ruin everything!

But beneath all those excuses, lay the truth- the pure, undiluted truth- that was just my personality.

"Get out," Enrique had said, with that same dangerous calm. "The both of you."

Laila spluttered, "But- but-"

"LEAVE!"

She’d jumped, startled by his ferocity. Her gaze darted to mine for a second. Hurt was reflected in them. Then, she’d skittered away.

"And you, Mario," he’d turned to face me. I saw a hint of madness in his eyes. It’d reminded me that Enrique wasn't a hundred percent balanced himself. "I never want to see you again. You will stay away from Daniel. You will not call him or text him. You will not have any form of contact with him, unless he contacts you first- and I will make sure that never happens. If you fail to comply with those stipulations, I will personally make the time to destroy your life, your very short career and your mother's chances at ever gracing anybody's screen. Do you understand me?"

My throat had worked furiously. Tears had prickled my eyes. Confronted with the intensity of Enrique's rage, I was truly afraid.

My hands had been clenched at my sides.

He’d meant every word.

"Answer the damn question. I'm not going to repeat myself," he’d said quietly. His eyes didn't leave mine.

"Yes. Yes. I understand," I’d choked out finally. "

I hadn't thrown a party since that night. And it had been weeks and weeks.

I've taken to clubbing instead.

I missed my best- friend. And I hadn't lied to Laila; I really did care about D. J. But our relationship was complicated and it was dysfunctional, because of all the things I could not bring myself to tell him...starting with his father's affair with my mother.

Even without Enrique's threats, I wasn't sure I was brave enough to tell D. J the truth.

And I resented the both of them for it.