You're Making Me Crazy, Professor [COMPLETED]

I'm in my room, lights off, only the glow of my phone illuminating my face as I play Call of Duty Mobile. My thumbs were moving fast, reflexes sharp, but my mind was somewhere else.
‎
‎Hindi ko talaga siya maalis sa isip ko. That girl. That one girl. There was just something about her. The way she looked. The way she carried herself. I don’t know. I want her.

"Bobo mo! 'Wag ka nang maglaro," I shouted at my teammates with my mic open.

Kakainis. Ang bo-bobo ng kakampi ko. I was trying so hard to carry the team, making all the plays, but no matter how good I was, it was impossible to win if they kept messing up. Useless. Nakakagigil.
‎
‎I threw my phone gently on the bed—not hard enough to break it, but just enough to release some steam. I sighed loudly, ran a hand through my hair, then looked at the time.
‎
‎It was already past midnight, and I still couldn’t sleep. My body was tired, but my mind? Sobrang gising. I needed something cold. Something to calm me down. Milk. And maybe… to see her.
‎
‎Tahimik ang buong bahay. I tiptoed downstairs, making sure my footsteps were light. As I reached the kitchen, the hum of the refrigerator was the only sound filling the space. I opened it and grabbed the carton of fresh milk.
‎
‎As I poured myself a glass, I heard soft footsteps behind me.
‎
‎“Why are you still awake?” a familiar voice said. It was my older sister, her tone a mix of concern and mild irritation.
‎
‎“I can't sleep. Kukuha lang ako ng gatas,” I replied, casually, not even looking at her as I took a sip.
‎
‎“Mhm, okay,” she muttered, turning around to leave, clearly not interested in small talk.
‎
‎“Wait, Ate,” I called out, my voice louder now, stopping her before she could completely exit the kitchen.
‎
‎She paused, turned around slowly, eyebrow raised. “Why?”
‎
‎I hesitated for a second, but then decided to just go for it. “Anong name nung friend mo? The one's who's wearing a beige sleeveless top."

‎Her expression shifted instantly. Her eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a straight line.
‎
‎“Why?” she repeated, but this time, her voice was colder, more serious. “Don’t you dare do that. Don’t touch my friends, Sylvia.”
‎
‎Oof.Okay, defensive much?
‎
‎“Sungit, I’m just asking,” I said, rolling my eyes while sipping from my glass.

"Cynthia... Cynthia Lim Sevilla Sanchez. That's her full name, happy?" she said, her voice still sharp.

‎I grinned, sipping my milk like I didn’t just win the lottery. “You’re a nice person after all pala, thanks ‘te,” I teased, throwing a flying kiss her way.
‎
‎She didn’t look amused. At all.
‎
‎“Don’t even think about flirting with her. She has a boyfriend.” Her voice was sharp. Stern. Final.
‎
‎Boyfriend? I paused for a second, digesting the information. My grin faded just a little, but only for a moment.
‎
‎“Yeah, okay,” I answered coolly, trying to sound uninterested as I turned away, pretending to focus on finishing my milk.
‎
‎But deep inside? I felt that spark—the kind you feel right before a challenge starts. The kind that makes your heart race.
‎
‎Boyfriend?
‎
‎Psh. Do I look like I care?
‎
‎I can have who I want to have. I’ve done it before. I’m not here to play nice. And if she really has a boyfriend, then it’s just going to be more fun proving I’m better.
‎
‎I wiped my lips, placed the empty glass in the sink, and headed back upstairs, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.
‎
‎The game wasn’t over.
‎
‎In fact, it was just getting started.
‎
‎I started walking upstairs, carefully holding my glass of milk with both hands para hindi matapon. The hallway was quiet. Pagdating ko sa taas, I quietly opened the door to my room and slipped inside.
‎
‎After finishing the last drop of milk, I placed the glass on my study table. I stood there for a moment, staring at nothing, my thoughts still drifting back to her. Cynthia. Her name was now carved into my brain, like a tattoo I didn’t ask for.
‎
‎I sighed, climbed into bed, and pulled the blanket up to my chin. The exhaustion I had tried to ignore earlier finally crept in, slowly dragging me into sleep. The events of the night—my rage during the game, that short conversation with my sister, and the sound of Cynthia’s name echoing in my head—faded into a hazy blur. Before I knew it, I was already dreaming, lulled to sleep by the heaviness of the day and the knowledge that I had early classes in the morning.
‎
---