The airport buzzed with the energy of travelers coming and going, the rhythmic hum of luggage wheels on tile blending with the steady murmur of announcements over the PA system. After the long flight from the Philippines, my legs felt stiff, but the excitement of being in Los Angeles for the first time overshadowed any exhaustion. Break and I emerged from the customs area, blinking under the fluorescent lights of LAX.

Break walked slightly ahead, his carry-on slung casually over his shoulder. His lean, towering frame seemed unbothered by the journey, while I clutched my tote bag tightly, scanning the sea of faces in the arrivals hall. My stomach fluttered with anticipation and nerves. Uncle Mico's insistence on hosting me for a few months after everything we'd been through felt overwhelming but also comforting. He'd been family when things fell apart, even from across the globe.

"There," Break muttered, pointing with a nod of his head. Following his gaze, I spotted a familiar figure waving enthusiastically from near the entrance—Uncle Mico.

Dressed in a crisp button-down shirt and jeans, he exuded the sharpness of his profession, but his face lit up with warmth when he saw us. His salt-and-pepper hair and the laugh lines around his eyes made him look older than I remembered, but there was a vitality to his movements, a determination to shake off the grief that had lingered since Aunt Camille's passing few months ago.

"Clover! Break!" he called out as we approached, his voice cutting through the din of the airport.

"Uncle Mico!" I hurried forward, dropping my bag to hug him tightly. His familiar scent—cologne and something faintly woodsy—felt like home, even in this bustling foreign city.

"Look at you," he said, pulling back to get a better look at me. "You've grown up so much since the last time I saw you."

"I missed you," I admitted, my voice catching slightly.

"And you!" Uncle Mico turned to Break, giving him a firm handshake and a pat on the shoulder. "Thanks for tagging along. It's good to know Clover has someone looking out for her."

Break gave his usual nonchalant shrug, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Someone's gotta make sure she doesn't get lost."

I rolled my eyes, but Uncle Mico laughed. "Good man. Now, let's get you both out of here. Traffic's going to be a nightmare if we don't hurry."

He led us to the parking structure, chatting about how he'd set up space for both of us in his home. The drive from LAX to Santa Monica took longer than I'd anticipated, but the city around us was a whirlwind of lights and motion. Cars zipped by in every direction, and towering billboards glowed against the fading afternoon sky.

"Welcome to LA," Uncle Mico said as he navigated the freeway with practiced ease. "It's chaotic, but you'll love it. And Santa Monica? Best part of the city."

Break, sitting in the passenger seat, glanced out the window at the sprawling urban landscape. "Looks busy," he remarked, his tone neutral but his eyes curious.

"Busy's an understatement," Uncle Mico replied with a chuckle. "But you'll see. The pier, the beach, the shops—it's got a charm you won't find anywhere else."

I stared out at the horizon, where the sun was dipping lower, casting the sky in hues of orange and pink. As we exited the freeway and entered the quieter streets of Santa Monica, the vibe shifted. The noise and chaos of downtown LA gave way to a more relaxed atmosphere. Palm trees lined the roads, swaying gently in the breeze, and the salty scent of the ocean hung in the air.

Uncle Mico's home was nestled in a quiet neighborhood just a few blocks from the beach. The two-story house had a warm, inviting look, with its white stucco walls and terracotta roof. A small garden in the front yard overflowed with blooming flowers, adding a pop of color to the setting.

"Here we are," Uncle Mico announced as he pulled into the driveway.

I stepped out of the car, stretching and taking in the fresh air. It was cooler here than in the Philippines, the crisp ocean breeze refreshing after the long journey.

Uncle Mico grabbed our suitcases from the trunk. "Both of you will be staying here," he said as he led us toward the house. "Break, the guest room upstairs is yours, and Clover, I've set up the second guest room for you right next to his. Figured it'd be easier to keep you both under one roof."

Inside, the house was cozy and modern, filled with little personal touches—photos on the walls, a bookshelf packed with law texts and novels, and a faint smell of coffee lingering in the air.

My room was simple but perfect: a soft bed with a light blue comforter, a desk by the window, and a small vase of fresh flowers on the nightstand.

"This is amazing, Uncle," I said, setting my bags down.

"Make yourselves at home," he said with a smile. "We'll grab dinner after you settle in. There's a great seafood place near the pier I think you'll love."

As I unpacked a few essentials, I felt a mix of emotions—excitement for the adventure ahead, gratitude for my uncle's hospitality.

Break leaned against the doorway of my room, arms crossed as he glanced around. "Not bad," he said with a small smirk. "Looks like you'll survive LA after all."

I rolled my eyes at his teasing but couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. This city was already starting to feel like the beginning of something new.

As soon as my head hit the pillow, I didn't intend to fall asleep—at least, not for long. I'd told myself I'd rest for just a few minutes before unpacking properly and exploring more of Uncle Mico's home. But the exhaustion from the long flight and the excitement of arriving in Los Angeles had drained every bit of energy I had left.

I must have sunk into a dreamless slumber almost instantly because the next thing I knew, sunlight was streaming through the window, painting golden streaks across the walls of my room. Disoriented, I rubbed my eyes and grabbed my phone. The time read 8:30 AM. Morning. I'd slept through the entire night.

A faint rumble of hunger stirred in my stomach, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since the plane. Stretching lazily, I stepped into the hallway and paused outside Break's room. The door was slightly ajar, and I peeked inside to see him sprawled across the bed, fast asleep. His tousled hair and steady breathing told me he was still deep in dreamland.

Not wanting to wake him, I tiptoed past and made my way downstairs, following the aroma of something savory wafting from the kitchen.

"Good morning, Clo," Uncle Mico greeted me as I entered the kitchen. He was standing by the stove, expertly flipping a pan of scrambled eggs. The table was already set with plates, a bowl of fresh fruit, and a loaf of bread.

"Good morning, Uncle," I replied, stifling a yawn as I plopped down on one of the chairs. "You're up early."

He chuckled. "I'm always up early. Lawyer habit. You, on the other hand, must have been wiped out from that flight. I didn't have the heart to wake either of you last night."

"Thank you," I said sincerely. "I think I needed it. I feel like a new person after that sleep."

"Good to hear." He placed a plate of eggs and crispy bacon on the table before sitting across from me with his coffee. "So, how's everything back home in the Philippines?"

I smiled as I reached for the bread. "It's good. Actually, it's great. Papa's restaurant in Tagaytay is doing really well now. Business is finally picking up again after the pandemic. It's a huge relief."

Uncle Mico's expression softened, his eyes reflecting pride. "That's wonderful to hear. Arthur's worked hard to keep things afloat during those tough times. I'm glad it's paying off now."

"Yeah," I said, warmth swelling in my chest as I thought of Papa. "The Taal Volcano view is such a draw for tourists. Papa's added some new items to the menu, and the feedback's been amazing. It's like the place has come back to life."

Uncle Mico nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "I'm proud of him—and of you, Clover. I know you've been helping him out a lot."

I shrugged modestly. "Just doing what I can. It's a family thing, right?"

"Exactly." He smiled, leaning back in his chair. "And speaking of family, I'm really glad you're here. It's been too long since I've had company in this house."

His words hung in the air, laced with a quiet sadness. We didn't need to say her name—Aunt Camille. Her absence was still palpable, but I could tell Uncle Mico was trying to move forward, even if it was one small step at a time.

"Well," I said, changing the subject gently, "you've got Break and me now. I hope you're ready for the chaos we're about to bring into your life."

He laughed, a deep, genuine sound that filled the room. "Bring it on. This house could use some chaos."

As Break finally emerged from his room, his hair tousled and eyes still heavy with sleep, I greeted him with a playful smirk.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," I teased, earning a grunt in response.

He plopped into the chair across from me at the kitchen table, his long limbs sprawled in that effortlessly cool way only Break could manage. Uncle Mico slid a plate of breakfast in front of him—eggs, bacon, and toast.

"Eat up," Uncle said. "You've got to keep up your strength if you're going to survive Clover's whirlwind energy."

Break gave a half-smile, his fork already digging into the food. "Trust me, I've been surviving her energy my whole life."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help grinning. It was true. Break had been my rock through everything, even when I was at my most dramatic.

As we ate, Uncle Mico leaned forward, his gaze flicking between Break and me. "Clover," he began casually, "are you still a fan of BTS?"

Before I could answer, Break chimed in with a chuckle. "Still a fan? She's been crazy about BTS all these years. You should see her room back home—it's like a shrine. Posters, albums, even a life-size cutout of that one guy..."

"Taehyung!" I corrected, glaring at him even as my cheeks turned crimson. "And it's not a shrine. It's called being a dedicated fan."

Break smirked. "Whatever you say, Clo."

Uncle Mico laughed, shaking his head. "Well, I'm glad to hear your devotion hasn't wavered. It just so happens I've got something for you."

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a slim envelope, sliding it across the table toward me. Curious, I opened it, and my jaw dropped when I saw what was inside.

"Permission to Dance On Stage—LA," I read aloud, my voice barely above a whisper. The tickets glimmered in the morning light like a dream come true.

"For you and Break," Uncle Mico said with a smile. "It's at the SoFi Stadium on December 2. Just a few days away."

For a moment, I couldn't speak. My hands trembled slightly as I held the tickets, my mind racing. This was more than I could've ever asked for.

"Uncle, are you serious?!" I finally managed, my voice rising with excitement. "Thank you so much! Oh my gosh, I can't believe this! You're the best!"

Break, ever the calm one, leaned back in his chair. "Looks like we're going to a concert," he said, his tone teasing. But I could see the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"I feel so lucky," I gushed, clutching the tickets like they were made of gold. "Every time I go to see BTS, it's because someone's given me tickets for free. Three years ago, Break got me a ticket to watch the pre-recording for BTS's performance on Show! Music Core in Korea. And now this? I don't even know what to say!"

Uncle Mico chuckled, waving off my gratitude. "You don't have to say anything, Clover. I just wanted to give you something to make this trip even more special."

"It already was," I said, my heart full. "But this? This is unforgettable."

I glanced at Break, who raised his coffee mug in a mock toast. "Guess I'm stuck going with you again," he joked.

"Stuck?" I shot back. "You're lucky to have a personal guide into the world of BTS!"

We all laughed, the warmth of the moment filling the room. My excitement buzzed in my chest, knowing that in just a few days, I'd be seeing BTS perform live again. This trip was shaping up to be one for the books, and I couldn't wait to experience every moment of it.

The excitement carried me through the morning, but by mid-afternoon, the fatigue I'd felt earlier had crept back in. It wasn't just the jet lag—I could feel the familiar weight pressing against my chest, a steady reminder of the condition I could never truly escape.

I sat in the living room, watching Break and Uncle Mico debate over what movie to stream. My breathing felt shallow, and a faint ache spread across my ribs. I shifted in my seat, hoping no one noticed. The stiffness in my legs from the flight had returned, coupled with a slight swelling in my ankles.

"Clover, you good?" Break's voice cut through my thoughts. He was watching me closely, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Yeah," I lied with a small smile. "Just a little tired."

Uncle Mico glanced over, his expression softening. "You should rest if you're feeling off. The first few days here can take a toll—new environment, different time zone, all of it."

I nodded, not wanting to draw more attention to myself. "I think I'll just sit this one out," I said, excusing myself from their conversation. As I made my way upstairs, the effort of climbing the steps left me slightly winded, and I had to pause halfway to catch my breath.

Once in my room, I sank onto the bed, trying to calm the rhythm of my heartbeat. I hated this—the way my body betrayed me even during moments of joy. Activities that used to be second nature—running errands, dancing, even long walks—had become Herculean tasks. Now, even unpacking my suitcase felt like too much.

I lay back, staring at the ceiling. The excitement of the BTS concert flitted through my mind, a bright spot amidst the haze. I didn't want to let this condition take that away from me too. I thought of everything I'd already lost—my chance at a performing arts career, the hours spent playing guitar and singing until my voice grew hoarse. Every time I had to say no to something I loved, a little piece of me chipped away.

A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. It was Break, holding two mugs of tea.

"Figured you could use this," he said, setting one down on the nightstand. His casual demeanor didn't fool me—I could see the concern lingering behind his eyes.

"Thanks," I said, my voice quieter than I intended. I took a sip, the warmth soothing the tightness in my chest.

"Look, if you need to slow down, just say so," he added, leaning against the doorframe. "You don't have to pretend you're fine all the time."

I managed a small laugh. "You know me too well."

"Someone's got to." He offered a smirk before heading back downstairs, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

As the tea worked its magic, I felt the tension ease slightly.