Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stacey sounds serious. Not a rarity at all. Stacey could be serious if needed. 

But Aiah doesn’t understand why a friend’s wedding has Stacey bargaining with Aiah to take the DJ spot so seriously. It’s a week-long commitment. Aiah would have to turn down multiple club DJ sets to accommodate Stacey’s request, all because Stacey wants to enjoy the wedding as a guest rather than be attached to the booth and miss out on all the festivities.

“Eh bakit ba muna isang linggo ‘yung kasal ng friend mo?” Aiah asks, wanting to be on the receiving end of some level of convincing, even though she knows Stacey will most likely dangle a great proposition to get Aiah to agree.

“Kasi mayaman sila? Chinese, eh. Tsaka kasal na sila. Last year pa, sa Australia. ‘Yung pinakita ko sayo na pictures, sila ‘yun.” Stacey explains, stowing her DJ controller away. “Nakumbinsi lang na magpakasal din dito sa Pinas. Tapos ayun lahat na ata ng family members involved na kaya umabot ng limang araw sa Palawan ang ganap.”

Okay, fine, not a full week. Although, with all the traveling, it’s definitely technically a full week.

Aiah does need a vacation. They’ve been putting themselves out there, really trying to land more spots in music festivals, clubs, and snazzy exclusive rooftop bar parties. As much as their job is all about the nightlife, Aiah loves nature and beaches, and Stacey knows it, utilizing that as one of the selling points for her request.

“Syempre ‘di ko maipapangako na walang chismosang tita na baka i-set up ka sa anak nilang single din. Pero all expense paid trip siya. Airfare, accommodations, lahat na. Maganda rin ‘yung rate na binigay.” Stacey lays it all out neatly.

Aiah had seen the email for the contract. It would be a job that pays handsomely on top of everything else. Maybe that’s why Aiah thinks there’s definitely going to be a catch when they get there. Like all the wedding guests would turn out to be the most awful people Aiah has ever met and then Aiah’s trapped in paradise with the most annoying and talkative bunch of Titas and Titos known to man.

“Kasama mo pa ako.” Stacey starts cheerfully before eventually avoiding Aiah’s eyes. “Kahit na… ‘di siguro tayo magka-room sa hotel.” 

“Syempre, kasama si Jhoanna sa Palawan,” Aiah guesses, her eyes landing on Stacey teasingly. 

“Oo na! Kaya please ikaw na mag-DJ. Sabihin mo ano dapat kong gawin para makuha ang oo mo.”

“Parang dapat kay Jhoanna mo sinasabi ‘yan eh.” Aiah rises on her feet once she sees Stacey zip her DJ bag close, reaching for her own and pulling her phone out to book a two drop-off Grab ride for them.

“Ate Aiah naman,” Stacey huffs. “Bilis na.”

Stacey calling her Ate means it is absolutely important to her. She hasn’t been Ate Aiah to her since they started working together, a self-managed team of two with a shared professional email and a Google calendar color coded to perfection. Stacey is pink, Aiah is blue. The calendar had to be the explanation to Jhoanna’s alleged unexplained fit of jealousy.

They had added her in as dark blue later.

“Sure, sure.” Aiah concedes. How can she say no to Stacey’s pleading face? “I won't be a third wheel either, pero may kapalit.”

Stacey looks at her curiously, seemingly considering her options. “Ano?”

Aiah’s screen lights up. A Grab driver accepts their booking. PHP404 for a ride home. What a scam. An inconvenient consequence of their atypical work hours is the lack of accessible commute options.

“Lista mo. May utang ka. 202 pesos para sa Grab.” Aiah starts walking towards the door, thanking the other event staff members they encounter as they make their way out of the building.

“Jusko, ‘yun lang pala kapalit eh? Easy.” Stacey jokes as she shuffles to walk alongside Aiah, greeting the staff members around as well when they walk past.

“Loko loko.” Aiah bumps their shoulders lightly, “Wala pa ako maisip ngayon. But I’m sure there’s something in the future that I might just need.”

“Tangina, scammer ka rin no?”

“Ayaw mo?”

“Sabi ko nga sabihin mo lang ‘pag naisip mo na.”

*

Aiah is tired when the flight to Palawan rolls around.

Aiah regrets saying yes to Stacey’s request when her gig the night before ended later than scheduled, and a handful of party goers had taken notice of her and handed her shots for ‘a job well done’ causing her to deal with a hangover that can’t be reasoned with hydration and meds alone.

And Aiah wants to regret her decision because she’s struck in traffic going to Terminal 3, and the Grab car’s aircon is broken, and the driver definitely smoked in the vehicle before picking her up, and in the backseat she sits in panic because her ID card—a driver’s license she doesn’t use—isn’t in its usual slot in her wallet, and cold sweat is running down her back as she scrambles through her bag… and well, thank God, it’s in one of the pockets.

And Aiah wants to regret more and more as she stands in a long check in line at the airport, and then later when she arrives at the terminal gate cramped with so many people because a small and intimate beach wedding would still probably be around 50 guests, and maybe 20 hired staff, all waiting for the same boarding time. It doesn’t help that the lounge is a good distance away, and the family of the brides don’t look like they’ll be running to the terminal gates for their flight.

Jhoanna and Stacey are already seated. Aiah feels relief spotting her stupid little faces in a crowd of strangers.

“Kinabahan ako sayo. Akala ko ‘di ka na susulpot. Para saan pa ang phone kung ‘di naman nagrereply.” Stacey berates, scooting a little in place to give Aiah space to sit down.

Aiah places her bag on the seat, feeling for her wallet in her pocket. “Sorry na. ‘Di talaga sumagi sa isip ko. Para kasi akong sinusundan ng malas today.”

Jhoanna makes a face, “Bawiin mo ‘yan. Pangit magsabi ng ganyan sa universe baka magkatotoo.”

Aiah wants to argue that it’s already happening, but Jhoanna wouldn’t want that either.

“Magkakape muna ako. Kayo ba?” Aiah says instead.

Stacey raises her own coffee cup, and Jhoanna murmurs something about not drinking coffee and so Aiah braces herself for another long queue, this time to the small coffee kiosk a short walk away from their gate.

Aiah finally checks her phone while she waits in line. There are indeed a handful of frantic messages from Stacey, and a few calmer ones from Jhoanna after. When she puts her phone down, the phone screen of the lady in front of her takes her attention. 

A text thread is in the largest font size Aiah has ever seen on a phone so it definitely grabs her attention.

Where are you? You cannot miss Gwen's wedding this time.

Ikaw lang din ang present from the Lim’s side of the family. 

Angkong was already upset about your parents’ absence.

Do you have a plus one? Ahma will definitely be asking. 

Aiah almost cannot peel her eyes away. Not especially when the reply arrives.

Matagal nang booked yung Europe trip nila. 

It’s non-refundable. Plus, they were present in Australia naman.

Then another.

No plus one, Auntie.

I’m already at the airport. I’m behind you in line actually.

Aiah resists the urge to turn to check who would be the unfortunate soul to bear the misfortune of possibly dealing with being matched with other single people during the wedding. A real possibility for attendees willingly going alone in these sorts of events. 

The lady saves her the trouble as she waves a hand, calling out to the sender of the messages. “Mikha, come here!”

Mikha, who apparently cannot miss the wedding, comes up to greet her Aunt. 

“I checked the guest list. Colet’s invited. You’re not going together?” The aunt asks after they go cheek to cheek in a beso.

“Colet and I have been broken up for two years na, Auntie.” Mikha clarifies, suddenly mindful of the people around them with such a chosen topic of conversation.

Aiah for her part tries to look disinterested. It’s not like she can plug her ears shut either.

“No chance at getting back together?” The aunt switches their place, shoving Mikha to stand in line instead of her.

“Colet’s already happy, Auntie. She’s invited because she’s Sheena’s friend.”

The aunt narrows her eyes at that, but doesn’t comment further. “Okay, if you say so. Do me a favor and get me a hot cappuccino, okay? I’ll go take a seat, masakit na tuhod ko eh.” She turns to Aiah then, and Aiah goes rigid. “I hope you don’t mind, no? She’s not cutting in line. Pamangkin ko naman ‘to.”

“Okay lang po,” Aiah whispers, nodding respectfully before the lady returns to the terminal gate.

“Sorry about that,” Mikha tells her when she catches Aiah’s eyes.

“No worries,” Aiah manages out, trying to imprint in her memory Mikha’s eyes.

Aiah forgets all her regrets for taking on this job and her streak of bad luck coming into the airport when later Mikha mistakenly takes Aiah’s coffee order leaving Aiah no choice but to bring a hand to Mikha’s arm to stop her in her tracks.

“Sorry, parang akin ata ‘yang hawak mo.” Aiah says as Mikha turns around.

Mikha turns one of the coffee cups in her hand. Aiah’s name is indeed on it, incorrectly spelled but unmistakably hers.

“For Mikha!” A barista calls out, just as they resolve the switcheroo.

“Sorry about that.” Mikha hands Aiah her coffee, taking the new coffee cup on the counter before sauntering away.

“No worries,” Aiah says even though Mikha is already gone, and Aiah is left reeling from the feeling of her fingers barely brushing Mikha’s own.

*

Stacey makes space for Aiah when she returns, letting her sit between Jhoanna and her. Aiah gives Stacey a questioning look as she settles in the middle, and Stacey makes a face that seems to indicate ‘No’ or ‘Later,’ meaning they will definitely debrief once they reach their respective rooms in the resort.

“Buti pinayagan ka magleave ng newsroom, Jho.” Aiah comments when Stacey somehow chooses this moment to be quiet.

“Ako magiging laman ng balita kasi papatayin ako ni Sheena kung absent ako sa kasal n’ya.”

“Ah, so umattend ka rin dun sa Australia?”

“Parang immediate family lang kasama ‘dun, kaya siguro napilitan mag-beach wedding para mas marami maka-attend.” Jhoanna’s voice quiets into a whisper when she realizes that they’re probably seated among the brides’ friends and family.

“Kayo lang naman friends ni Sheena,” Aiah mentions, because it’s true. 

Sheena, the most introverted person on Earth, has two of the loudest best friends anyone can ever have. Like the universe’s answer to the way Sheena is shy and unable to deal with strangers is that she would have a Jhoanna and a Stacey to look after her.

Aiah remembers meeting Sheena for the first time, someone who can’t make eye contact with her after a definitely rehearsed greeting. And being delighted at the shift of seeing her with Jhoanna and Stacey, all playful and laughing brightly.

“Hoy, hindi! May iba pa ‘yung kaibigan, no. Si Colet.” Jhoanna defends Sheena even when Aiah had not been at all accusatory. “I’m sure invited din si Colet.”

Stacey visibly tenses after those words were uttered, but Aiah is too far in her own thoughts to really pay her any mind. Colet… who is both Sheena’s friend and Mikha’s ex-girlfriend. Colet, the name that Aiah has heard a lot this morning.

It already feels like it’s going to be a very interesting wedding.

*

Aiah sees Mikha again while they’re in a single file walking through the aisle of the plane bound for Puerto Princesa. Mikha sits three rows behind Aiah. Aiah knows because she counted as she placed her carry on bag in the overhead bin.

Mikha is sitting on the window seat, the seat beside her empty.

Aiah squeezes between Stacey and Jhoanna because Stacey seems set on wedging Aiah between them. So much for offering not to third wheel. 

Aiah cranes her neck to check if she can sneak a look at Mikha through the gaps between the chairs, and to no avail, she’s out of sight.

Oh, well, Aiah will see her when they land.

Chapter Text

Puerto Princesa International Airport is a work of art, but they don’t spare any time to appreciate it further. Mikha takes charge upon their exit, approaching who she thinks is the resort coordinator holding the sign that indicates they're the person in charge for the transport of the wedding guests.

‘Apuli-Catacutan Wedding Guests’, the sign says. If a printed signage could be loud, then that one certainly is. Huge alternating purple and orange text, and a chosen font style that should be a crime against typeface. 

“Good afternoon, Ms. Lim, right? I’m Jefferson Tiu, manager of the Citadel Hotel and Resort. I’ll be helping assist with getting everyone settled in for the wedding.”

Chinese surname, Mikha notes. Of course, they’re booking a hotel owned by a friend of a friend who they’re acquainted with because they migrated from Hainan to the Philippines during the Qing dynasty… or something. Whatever. Mikha snatches the clipboard from his hands.

“It’s a list of which bus people are assigned to.” Jefferson explains. 

What kind of name is Jefferson even? Richardson might make sense. Richard’s son. Who the hell would Jeffer be?

“And you didn’t think to… I don’t know—email this list to disseminate before we got here?”

He looks a little frightened. He should be.

“I’m sure we can bring everything up to speed. I have several hotel staff here to assist.”

Mikha resists rolling her eyes. He’s inefficient. Mikha won’t say incompetent, but she’s saving it for later when he inconveniences her another time. The wedding is for an entire week, she’s sure he’ll do something or not do something that she’ll end up fixing.

Like this list.

The wedding vendors, the planner, the videographer team and the people in charge of the music, the band and the DJ’s are rushing out of the airport exit just as Mikha helps bring the older family members into their assigned bus. 

Why are all the old people with their knee problems and their aging bones in a single bus together? God help Auntie Anita if she can even reach the third row without complaining. 

Mikha is already thinking of re-doing the list for when they leave.

Jefferson, at least, has half the mind to usher the wedding staff into whatever vehicle they can squeeze into. 

The van is supposedly for hotel staff only, but the list is apparently incomplete, with some people unaccounted for, which is how the band and the DJ’s are squeezing in with the hotel staff. 

And Mikha, ironing out all the troubles from Jefferson’s lack of foresight, squeezes her eyes shut the entire 4-hour ride to Bataraza seated next to an electric guitar and a saxophone brought by the band. Their other equipment barely fit into the space at the back.

They’re already off to a rough start. This can’t be good.

No. No. This is fine, everything will be fine, Mikha repeats in her mind like a mantra.

She makes a mental list of everything that went well despite the errors and difficulties. No one is left behind. No one from today’s flight, at least. For the people still coming in tomorrow, they’re no longer her problem. Mikha doesn’t want to deal with more logistic concerns. 

She’s off work, but somehow work follows her. Gwen owes her. What would have happened if she wasn’t here? Fucking Jefferson would have taken two hours just to get everyone in their vehicles, and then they would be late for dinner, and then Angkong would throw a fit because he hates tardiness more than anything.

Mikha forgets she’s supposed to be making a list of everything that went well, and drifts off to sleep.

*

“Miss,” the voice calls out first softly and then more aggressively when even the repeated tapping on Mikha’s shoulder doesn’t get her to budge. “Mikha, nandito na tayo.”

Mikha peels her eyes open. That is her name. But she doesn’t recognize this voice, so how does this person know her? 

Someone opens the back door of the van, and the light inside turns on, illuminating the face of the woman waking her up. Ahh. The girl from the coffee shop. Aya. That was the name on her coffee order. Would it be weird to say her name even if they aren’t formally introduced?

If Mikha could venture a guess, she must be the DJ. She's pretty. The band vocalist is a man, she’s been told, so that’s out of question, but she thinks a face like that would have a voice that can carry a tune, all angelic and light and pretty.

“Nandito na tayo,” Aya repeats since Mikha remains dazed and looking still halfway in dreamland.

“Anong oras na?” Mikha asks, her left arm limp from the lack of blood circulation that she can’t raise an arm to check the time herself.

Aya looks at her wrist watch. “Quarter to six.”

Mikha nods. Good. Still on schedule.

The band has already taken their stuff out the back, so they close the van door, and with it, the light inside the van goes out.

“Tara na. May dinner daw sa 6th floor. Ballroom A.” Aya makes her way out.

Mikha knows. She made the schedule for the non-wedding related events to ease some responsibilities off the wedding planner, who thanked her vehemently. Mikha only really did it for that reason secondarily, which is why Mikha feels bad for being on the receiving end of such gratitude. 

Primarily, she just wanted to be busy, or appear busy. So, that she can selfishly excuse herself out of certain wedding festivities that would corner her into answering when she plans on getting married herself. Never mind that she isn’t seeing anyone currently. The fact that there isn’t half of the marriage wouldn’t deter her Aunts and Uncles from asking.

It doesn’t help her case at all that she and Gwen, one of the brides of this very celebration, are close in age. And the elders are simple minded enough to make that comparison, and Mikha is simply too exhausted to even engage in that line of questioning.

Mikha sighs. She notices that she’s been sighing a lot lately.

When she gets out of the van, Aya is waiting by the lobby. Mikha leaves her luggage by the front desk. And only when she makes her way to the elevators to proceed to Ballroom A, does Aya start moving again.

Huh.

The elevator ride to the sixth floor is quiet.

Mikha makes a mental note to introduce herself properly later.

*

Later, Jefferson approaches Mikha while she’s asking the catering staff if they have any alternate food menus and options. They can’t risk Uncle Richard having a gout flare. He needs to be walking down the aisle no matter what.

“Are you always this particular, Ms. Lim?” He asks.

It’s Mikha’s fault for taking a glance at him and allowing him to think anything of their interactions. Men and their audacity. 

“Some of us have to be.”

He laughs.

Mikha isn’t joking.

By the time he has caught on that Mikha is serious, Mikha is already making a beeline to the open bar, his laughter fading in the background. It becomes an even easier choice when she sees Aya there. Mikha thinks she’s scoping out the wedding guest demographic.

Mikha takes the seat next to her, and Aya is already turned to her direction with a smile.

“Hi,” Aya sounds like she’s already had a few drinks.

Mikha looks at the bar counter, and finds a half empty glass of highball on a sufficiently moist paper towel doubling as a coaster. Definitely been drinking.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Mikha asks.

Aya’s face takes on a dopey smile, revealing dimples. Cute, Mikha thinks but obviously doesn’t say.

“Why? Are you interested?”

“I’m wondering if anyone would be mad if I asked you to kiss me.”

Aya’s head tilts ever so slightly, like a puppy waiting for a treat. “Are you asking?”

“Not if anyone would be upset.”

“No,” Aya seems to school herself in sounding less eager, “No one would be upset.”

Mikha smirks, leaning forward. “Kiss?”

Aya leans in, only a soft press of their lips together at first. Respectful. Sweet, honestly. At any other time, Mikha would be swooning, satisfied and impressed at such a display of self restraint after an impressive show of eagerness.

Aya pulls away first, searching Mikha’s face for any indication of… something.

One kiss isn’t enough.

“That’s it?” Mikha challenges.

Aya rises up to it, grabbing Mikha’s face with both hands, warm and busy hands eventually settling to wrap around Mikha’s neck. Aya tastes like whiskey and ginger ale, and Mikha would reason that’s why she feels intoxicated by her. 

When Mikha’s hands eventually land on Aya’s thighs, Aya seems to take that as a signal to stop and when she pulls away again, they are both breathless.

They catch their breaths before landing on the feeling that leads them to a disbelieving laughter. It is a bit of a ridiculous situation.

Aya is still chuckling when she introduces herself, offering a hand out. “I’m Aiah. A-I-A-H. The barista misspelled it earlier. Just in case, you wanna look me up on instagram.”

Mikha shouldn’t be charmed, but of course, Aiah (she corrects in her mind) is charming on top of being beautiful, radiant, and nice, so Mikha is powerless to resist the smile that blooms on her face. “Noted. I’m Mikha. The barista spelled it correctly.”

They only exchange names and shake hands after they’ve made out.

And only when Mikha sees a swinging door in her peripheral vision does she remember she specifically asked Aiah for a kiss to get Jefferson out her hair. For possibly the whole duration of their stay. She asked for another kiss to ensure he gets the message. Maybe. Mikha feels less certain of her intentions now that she knows what Aiah tastes like.

Mikha can just ask her because she wants to. Aiah seems to want the same anyway, and she looks happy to be able to help, her line of sight following Mikha’s. Her face forms a scowl at an idea of who had just left.

“That guy’s bothering you?” Aiah asks.

Mikha doesn’t want to talk about him, dropping the subject altogether.

“You’re the hired DJ, right?” Mikha thinks to confirm now.

And Aiah thinks to explain. “Yeah. Well… originally, kay Stacey talaga naka-offer yung trabaho. We work together. I had to be convinced to take the spot kasi ayaw magtrabaho ni Stacey during a friend’s wedding.” 

“Ahh, Sheena’s friend, Stacey.” Mikha muses out loud. “I have heard stories.”

“Like what? Mabait ‘yun si Stacey. They can get a little loud and rowdy but that’s good for parties. You need people to bring the energy up.”

“You think this wedding needs that?”

“Maybe,” Aiah chuckles awkwardly around her answer, “Just a little.”

The attendees’ demographic is skewed to an older age group. Mikha is aware of how this looks. But plenty of them are also sponsoring the wedding, and Gwen says yes to anything that would cut their costs. Typical stingy Chinese-Filipino behavior, of course.

Mikha could also argue that if Gwen is allowed to sneak out and leave early at her own wedding, she would and so the level of enjoyment and energy of the wedding reception is the least of her concerns.

Mikha hums thoughtfully, “You’re right. Tomorrow, there’ll be more ‘young’ people coming in. Then you can tell me if they pass your standards for a fun crowd at a party.”

“Lagi ka bang seryoso?” Aiah asks. It’s definitely a rephrasing of Jefferson’s own chosen opening line earlier. Mikha doesn’t mind it coming from Aiah.

“I could have fun at parties, too.”

Aiah gulps down the rest of her highball, eyeing Mikha as she finishes her drink.

“I don’t doubt it, Mikha.” Aiah says when the tall glass is finally empty, “But as the person in charge of the music, I’ll make sure of it, too.”

Mikha hops off the bar stool.

“I’ll be looking forward to it, Aiah.”