O6-O9–26

Beep. Silence.
Beep. Silence.

Kyeji had turned off his alarms for a full hour, his hand moving with a practiced, subconscious flick of the wrist. He wasn’t ready to face the world yet. The bed felt too warm, and the darkness behind his eyelids was far more inviting than the reality of a Tuesday morning. But then, a sudden realization hit him like a bucket of cold water.

Online class.

He scrambled for his phone, his heart sinking as the clock stared back at him: 10:21 AM. His first class had started at 9:00 AM. He was completely doomed. He joined the meeting anyway, his hair a mess and his eyes barely open, only to find out the professor had already marked his attendance. No mercy.

“Oh well,” he muttered, leaning back against his headboard. “Life must go on, I guess.”

With a heavy head and a lingering sense of sleepiness, he moved on to the next class. But Kyeji was never just a student; he was a master of multitasking. While the professor’s voice droned on through his laptop speakers, Kyeji was on the floor, playing with Sky. The five-year-old was in full Loopy mode, and Kyeji found himself caught between taking notes on his laptop and making sure his sister didn’t cause too much chaos.

His day became a rhythmic cycle: attend online class, play with Sky, attend online class.

During one of his breaks, he had another mission—picking up Sai.

Sai was his friend’s three-year-old son, a literal bundle of energy and a certified professional yapper. The moment the toddler saw Kyeji, the talking never stopped. Kyeji nodded along to Sai's endless stories, a faintly amused smirk resting on his face. Unfortunately, he almost made the child cry after playfully biting his cheek.

Back at home, Sky and Sai finally met. Between Sky's boundless energy and Sai's nonstop chatter, Kyeji's room felt less like a study space and more like a high-end daycare center. He didn't mind, though. There was something about being the Kuya to the two of them that made the weight of academic stress feel a little lighter.

By the time evening rolled around, the house was filled with the mouth-watering scent of Dada’s Sinigang.

Kyeji sat down at the table, the sour broth exactly what he needed to clear the fog in his brain. He ate heartily, feeling the comfort of being fed by his dads after a chaotic day of babysitting and missed lectures. But the real highlight was the dessert.

His Dad had come home with a tub of ice cream, which was the perfect partner for the leche flan Kyeji had been craving all day.

“Okay na pala kahit pangit umaga ko,” he whispered, mixing a spoonful of creamy flan with the ice cream. He was tired, his attendance record was a mess, and he had spent more time playing with toddlers than studying—but as he sat there with his family, the stress of the morning felt miles away.

Back to the grind, but at least he’s fed.