In between Sunsets and Rain.

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-Food Stalls — Maginhawa Street-

The street was alive with neon signs, sizzling grills, and music blasting from random speakers. Crowds filled with laughter and motorbikes whizzed past. It was the farthest thing from Milan Fashion Week—and Sebastian Rue Cortez brought me here?

"Sebastian," I said, stepping gingerly over what looked like a puddle of isaw sauce, "Are we... actually eating here? In the wild?"

He looked back at me, grinning ear to ear. "Maginhawa 'to, beh. This is like, the OG spot for street food legends. Welcome to Manila's finest—pang-movie montage levels!"

I folded my arms. "I am wearing Valentino."

"And I'm wearing ukay-ukay. See? Balanced."

I glared. He offered me a stick of kwek-kwek like it was a peace treaty. "Tikman mo 'to, Rheagan. Life-changing 'yan. Like—Disney princess realness, pero sa Divisoria setting."

"I'm not a lab rat, Sebastian."

He leaned closer. "Lab rat? Eh di ako nalang tikim sayo—eme!"

I deadpanned, "Ew. You're literally worse than the sauce stains on the sidewalk."

"Ouch. Pero bakit ang ganda mo pa rin kahit galit?" He fanned his chest dramatically, as if I physically wounded him.

I rolled my eyes, but a smile was already tugging at my lips. "You're crazy."

"Nah," he popped a fishball into his mouth. "Just irresistible."

Just then, a kid ran past and accidentally bumped into me—causing my tiny designer clutch to fly out of my hand and straight into a tub of halo-halo.

I gasped.

Seb choked on his drink. "Shet! Yung bag mo! I—wait, is that Dior? Oh my god."

"This city hates me," I muttered, horrified.

"Wait lang, don't panic!" Seb, who clearly had no real solution, pulled out a monobloc chair and said, "Sit here."

As he fished my clutch out of the tub like it was the Titanic, I couldn't stop laughing. Loud, real, and unbecoming.

He handed me the dripping bag with a proud smile. "There. Dior à la halo-halo. Limited edition.

Seb grinned like he was about to change my entire life. "Here, tikman mo 'to." He held out a bright orange ball on a stick. It looked... suspicious. Deep-fried. Sinister.

I blinked at it. "What is that cheetos or something ?"

He laughed so hard he nearly dropped the sauce. "Kwek-kwek 'yan, beh! Quail egg. Deep-fried. Dipped in magic."

"Why is it orange?"

"Food coloring, syempre. Para mas festive." He wiggled the stick in front of me. "C'mon, you need this. Pang-character development. Eat now, thank me later."

I raised an eyebrow. "If I die, I'm suing you."

"Fine, ako magbabayad ng funeral mo. With extra kwek-kwek on the side."

Rolling my eyes, I took a tentative bite—instantly hit with crunch, heat, and some weirdly delicious sauce he dunked it in.

"Wait... this is actually—"

"Masarap?" he beamed. "Told you."

I chewed slowly, still stunned. "Okay. Fine. It's edible."

"Edible daw," he snorted. "Pambansang kwek-kwek 'yan, Rheagan. Respetuhin mo."