O6-O3–26

Kyeji’s surprisingly productive day.

Kyeji—who, for once, actually slept early—woke up at 6:00 in the morning.

A miracle, honestly. Though, unfortunately, the universe still found a way to humble him. Because the moment he moved, his neck hurt. Badly.

Probably because he had somehow fallen asleep sitting up again. A terrible habit. One that his body clearly disagreed with. Still, Kyeji pushed himself up and immediately started stretching, trying to undo whatever damage his sleeping position had caused overnight. Surprisingly enough, he even managed to wake his dad early for class.

And somehow—breakfast already existed. His dad had made waffles. Before Kyeji could even process the sight, his dad jokingly said, “Matino ’yan, promise.”

Apparently, there was already an expectation that Kyeji would judge the waffle quality. Which—to be fair—was not entirely impossible.

Still, despite the teasing, Kyeji quietly liked moments like this: being babied, taken care of, fed before he could even think about feeding himself. Not that he had much of a choice anyway.

He still was not allowed inside the kitchen.

Mostly because—well—Kyeji did not know how to cook. And the household had collectively decided that perhaps the kitchen should remain safe.

After breakfast, Kyeji patiently waited for his dada to wake up because today was important.

Gym day.

Well—technically, Kyeji himself declared that Wednesdays and Saturdays were gym days. Which meant everyone else had to accept it.

Not long after, his dada finally woke up, and the two quietly settled into their usual morning rituals.

Simple things. Comforting things. The kind that somehow became routine before either of them even realized it.

And of course—Kyeji drove the Hello Kitty car again. Because apparently, dignity had already left the conversation long ago.

Coffee sat in his hand—made by his dada, of course. And somehow, coffee just tasted better when his dada made it—not scientifically proven. Just emotionally true.

Eventually, they arrived at the gym. Both are wearing headphones. Both are listening to completely different music genres. His dada immediately went toward the treadmill. Meanwhile, Kyeji stayed behind to stretch first. Because, unlike certain people, he enjoyed being able to move his body afterward.

Today’s mission? Upper body.

Weights. Pain. Questionable life decisions disguised as discipline.

Time passed quietly between sets, machines, and occasional glances around the gym until eventually—they were done. Thankfully. Because muscles could only pretend to be okay for so long.

Afterward, they headed to the mall for groceries. Well, supposedly groceries. His dada suggested it. But somehow, it slowly turned into shopping.

And before Kyeji realized it, he was the one doing the actual grocery part. Though honestly? He was not complaining because this meant snacks.

Chips. Chocolate. Lollies. Small victories.

But then—there were the stares. People kept looking at him. And naturally, Kyeji assumed—“Ah, maybe it’s because I look good.”

It was not.

It was because of his dada’s bag. The very bag he was unfortunately carrying.

Kyeji kept adjusting it. Fixing it. Repositioning it. Again. And again. And again.

Trying to make it look less like it belonged to him. But no matter what he did, nothing worked.

Eventually, Kyeji surrendered. Accepted defeat. And simply carried the bag. Because realistically, this was his fault in the first place.

His reasoning? “Nandoon kasi yung pera!” Honestly. Fair enough.

Eventually, they went home. And for a while, Kyeji planned to do something productive.

Like resting. Reviewing. Preparing himself academically.

But instead, Mobile Legends happened.

And naturally—his teammates tested his patience. Terribly.

One bad match. Then another. And somehow, he ended up tilted.

Emotionally damaged by strangers on the internet. A very normal experience, indeed.

The rest of the day passed quietly. Filled with the usual teasing from his parents—which, honestly, was basically a love language in their household at this point.

Then night arrived. And somehow—things softened again. Because his dada ordered Jollibee. Kyeji happily ate his share before finally preparing to review.

Or well—at least pretend to review.

Whether actual studying happened or not—that part remained very questionable.