Orange

He's gonna make it out alive. Right?

Nico arrived late. She sat in Yasmin's living room freaking out about her friend living in the same place as this person. Nico kept saying it over and over.

"It's Kota!" Nico exclaimed. This was the only time Yasmin realized she didn't know his name. He had just been a nameless annoying blob of a person.

She had been stewing in annoyance. She thought she recognized a hint of guilt in there, though. She should check if he really needed shots, because what if he was just faking having anti-rabies shots already? And if he dies? And her cat? It was the responsible thing to do.

But why does it have to be him? It could have been anyone in this whole building. It could have been one of the people he lived with! Apparently there's a full group of singing and dancing men in there.

Cosmo, who brought him up to her unit, was now sleeping on the couch like he did nothing wrong.

"Have you seen the rest of them?" Nico asked, still not over it.

Yasmin shrugged, "I don't know. Probably. There are only two elevators."

She squealed at that. "How could you keep this from me? You know how much I love them. And now you're living with them!"

"I am not living with them. I am living in the same building as them." And I reported one of them for being noisy.

She didn't tell her friend that. She would never hear the end of it, she's sure.

"I'll visit you weekly," Nico added. "I'll bring you lunch."

Yasmin sighed, unable to fully listen to her. She was very much thinking about whether or not he did get his shots, if there was a clinic near them, and if it was available at night.

But he was a grown man, as her friend observed (she is now talking about someone's abs in this one music video?), and he should be able to take care of himself. He's a celebrity too, which meant he probably had assistants to go with him and tons of money to afford his medical bills, unlike her, a staff nurse who just started three months ago at the nearby hospital.

He's gonna make it out alive. Right?

**

The cold boardroom was not their usual place for meetings. Boardroom meetings meant logistics, finances, and serious business stuff.

Everything else—the actual creative work—was done in recording studios, rehearsal spaces, and chats.

But it turned out that the topic for today's meeting had nothing to do with their work after all. It was about their living space.

LuvByte has been occupying the two-bedroom apartment at Roman's Court. The two rooms had two double decks: one housed four boys while the slightly smaller one had three. This wasn't the best living situation, but they understood as beginners that money wasn't there just yet. It was something they had to work hard for.

By year 3, things were slightly better. The topic of moving to a new place—may be a house instead of an apartment—was brought up but was put off because they were about to tour. It didn't seem too long ago, but now that Kota thought about it, it had been around this time since they started asking this question.

"I think it'd be good," Oli said, easily accepting the proposed change.

"I mean if you're all okay with it," Chili spoke, surprising Kota. As the youngest member, Chili was used to watching the older members volley for opinions before giving his own.

They started talking about it with excited voices and remarks, but Kota felt frozen in place. A nudge by his ribcage made him look at Sam, their eldest member, and the de facto leader.

"That's less for you to clean," he said with a chuckle.

While that is true and would be preferable, Kota felt a pang of sadness for what this move would entail: change. And with their contract renewal coming up in a few months, he couldn't help but feel nervous. So far, no one has expressed not renewing, and it seemed like everyone still wanted to be part of the group, but still.

He knew he could always change his mind and so as the boys. It was only fair for them to hear out other opportunities despite being in a group.

They were individual people who initially wanted to be individual artists at the end of the day. They didn't want to be part of a group, but that was the hand that was dealt, and they all took it.

Kota felt his lips move, and a peal of nervous laughter followed suit.

"We can vote, right?" Somebody finally said.

A vote. Yes. They can vote.

Miles, who had the knack for brightening the group's mood, raised his hand, "People who want to move to a new, bigger place with the possibility of having your own room, raise your hand."

Hands shot up too fast. But they were right, it was time. They worked their way up and should be reaping their rewards. It meant some kind of freedom, space which he so sorely missed. But how would the new living arrangement affect their relationships? Especially now that they've become so close and in sync?

Miles chuckled. "Easy."

"Are you all in a hurry to move out?" Kota asked.

Sam cleared his throat, "We have a month left in our lease. We've put this off for too long. It's either we renew or we send our 30-day notice and look for new apartments."

"I thought we were looking for a house?" He asked.

"A house would be good, but we might find one farther from the company. We need you to be close and not sit through EDSA for hours." Norah answered.

Kota nodded. That was the problem with being in Manila. There were fewer houses and more condos built. And if that was the case then that meant apartments, or condo units — plural. How many apartments are they talking about here? One for each? Will they be divided into two groups? Or in trios and pairs, like how they do for hotel rooms when they travel?

"I'm hungry," Sam said.

"Let's order pizza."

"Let's get chicken wings too."

Soon enough everyone was just throwing out food names until someone would pick up their phone to order it. Kota felt himself relax, leaning back in his seat. He didn't want decisions to be made rashly, so he appreciated having the diversion. A time in between was all he needed to resign to the fact that this was happening, and it was not necessarily for the worse.

Sam grabbed his phone first, the designated order taker.

"What do you want, K?"

"Whatever the group wants."

Sam's thumb paused as his eyes remained on the screen. Then, he peered at him. "Don't worry about it."

"What?"

He shook his head with a chuckle, thumb back to scrolling through a menu. "You can soundproof your room."

My room? Kota was tickled with that idea. Having a room, for himself. He didn't have to share it with anyone else. He loved these boys but he needed to sleep without Oli snoring.

"Can't let you get reported to the HAB again," Sam teased.

Kota rolled his eyes, afraid that he would never live this down.

No more walking on eggshells. No more weird cat visiting their balcony. No more noise bans.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.