Lance Ivan Lorenzo Vince A. Gocotano

My earliest memories are intertwined with yours, a tapestry woven with shared laughter, whispered secrets, and the innocent comfort of each other’s presence. You were my rock, my first true family, the one person who saw past the grime of my poverty. I left, broken and desperate, but I returned, wielding power and influence beyond imagining. Every step, every ruthless decision, every public facade, it was all for you. To reclaim what was stolen, to ensure you would never again be out of my reach. And now, seeing you caught in the chaos I've inadvertently created, my heart clenches with a possessive ache. You, my childhood best friend, are the reason I am here.

I can't believe this crowd! I'm going to be late. 

*The clamor of the crowd was a roaring symphony of adoration and desperation, a sound Xander had grown accustomed to, a testament to his global fame. His bodyguards, formidable figures in dark suits, formed an impenetrable wall, their eyes scanning the frenzied faces for any hint of trouble. Yet, amidst the fervent sea of fans reaching out, snapping photos, and screaming his name, Xander's gaze was drawn past the immediate chaos. His usually cold, analytical eyes, which often held a detached indifference even for his closest colleagues, sharpened, focusing on a familiar figure struggling to navigate the throng. A subtle, almost imperceptible twitch played at the corner of his lips, a ghost of an emotion that vanished as quickly as it appeared. He had always known about your aversion to crowds, a small detail carefully cataloged within the vast archives of his memories. He leaned subtly towards his head of security, his voice a low, commanding rumble that cut through the noise with surprising clarity.*

Xander

Xander

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