Chapter Text
The TikTok had one hundred thirty-one likes.
That was it.
One hundred thirty-one likes. Four comments. Fifteen bookmarks.
The kind of numbers that disappeared into the endless void of the internet every second.
It had been posted on May 3.
A grainy screen recording from a Senate livestream.
Senator Risa Hontiveros stood with her back to the camera, speaking to Senator Sherwin Gatchalian during a break in session. A few feet away, Senator Kiko Pangilinan happened to be standing in frame.
Nothing happened.
Nobody touched.
Nobody flirted.
Nobody even did anything particularly interesting.
The entire clip lasted less than twenty seconds.
Yet someone had paired it with Kim Chiu's Mr. Right and added the text:
POV: may mag-jowa sa harap mo.
The joke being that Sen. Kiko looked like an unwilling third wheel.
It should have died there.
Most people scrolled past.
Most people forgot.
The internet produced stranger things before breakfast.
Unfortunately, one person did not scroll past.
"Huy."
The voice came from behind her.
The young woman nearly dropped her phone.
She looked up guiltily.
Senator Sherwin Gatchalian stood in the doorway of the communications office, arms folded.
The rest of the team immediately pretended to be working.
The staffer straightened in her seat.
"Sir."
"You are aware you're still on the clock?"
"I am working."
"Kinikilig ka eh."
"I'm monitoring public sentiment."
"You were watching TikTok."
"Social media monitoring."
Sherwin stared at her.
She stared back.
Several seconds passed.
"That's not what social media monitoring means."
"Respectfully, sir, I think that's exactly what it means."
One of her coworkers made a choking sound and quickly looked away.
Sherwin pinched the bridge of his nose.
She survived.
Barely.
The moment he left, she saved the video into a private folder.
Not because she shipped anyone.
Not because she thought it was meaningful.
It was just funny.
The folder was full of things like that.
Memes.
Edits.
Fan videos.
Positive comments.
Anything that wasn't political doom and gloom.
A collection of internet nonsense.
The TikTok vanished into the pile.
Then the Senate exploded.
Not literally.
Though there were moments when it felt alarmingly close.
The following weeks became a blur of emergency meetings, strategy discussions, press statements, interviews, hearings, briefings, and enough political chaos to make everyone in the building perpetually exhausted.
Every day brought a new headline.
Every conversation felt serious.
Every room carried tension.
Even the social media team stopped joking.
The senator's accounts became a constant cycle of statements, updates, and responses.
Nobody cared about TikTok edits anymore.
Least of all the staffer.
The folder remained untouched.
Buried beneath newer saves.
Forgotten.
Until three weeks later.
The communications team looked dead.
Not tired.
Dead.
One staff member sat slumped over a conference table.
Another stared blankly at a laptop screen.
Someone was halfway through their third coffee.
The atmosphere resembled a support group.
The social media manager broke the silence.
"We need engagement."
Nobody answered.
"We need something lighter."
Still nothing.
Then the staffer sat up.
Eyes bright.
The way a person looked right before suggesting something deeply questionable.
"No."
Several heads turned.
"Wala pa nga akong sinasabi ma’am."
"No."
She ignored them.
"What if Senator Win reacts to TikToks?"
The room collectively recoiled.
"No."
"Wag."
"Maiistress lang sya sa mga trolls."
"Next."
She looked offended.
"Why?"
One of the senior staffers laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it wasn't.
"Kita mo na ngang puro trolls na lang ang nagrereact sa page eh."
"Exactly."
"That's why it's a bad idea."
"Daming baliw sa comsec."
"We're trying to improve his image, not destroy it."
The staffer rolled her eyes.
"I'm not talking about those posts."
"Then what posts?"
A smile slowly spread across her face.
The kind of smile that should have worried everyone.
Because unlike the rest of the office, she knew something they didn't.
There were positive edits.
Lots of them.
Funny ones.
Wholesome ones.
Ridiculous ones.
The internet, despite everything, occasionally liked their boss.
She had the evidence.
Saved.
Categorized.
Ready to go.
Nobody noticed the way her smile widened.
Nobody remembered the forgotten TikTok.
Neither did she.
At six-thirty that evening, most of the office had already gone home.
The Senate halls were quieter.
Not quiet.
Never quiet.
But quieter.
Sherwin remained in his office. Predictably.
His jacket hung over a chair. A stack of documents occupied half his desk. Another stack occupied the other half.
He was reading when someone knocked.
Or rather, knocked and immediately entered.
"Sir?"
He looked up.
The staffer.
Of course.
"Oh, gabi na. Ba’t di ka pa umuuwi? What is it?"
She stepped inside.
"Ah Sen, can I pitch something?"
His expression immediately became suspicious.
The last time she'd said those words, she'd somehow convinced him to film a social media campaign in one take.
"What kind of something?"
"Content."
His suspicion deepened.
She ignored it.
"Ang seseryoso po kasi ng mga pinopost natin sir."
"Because serious things are happening."
"Yun nga po."
She sighed deeply.
"Which is why people need a break."
He leaned back in his chair.
Listening.
Unfortunately.
"What kind of break?"
The grin appeared.
Dangerous.
Immediate.
Unmistakable.
"A reaction video."
Silence.
"A what?"
"You react to TikToks. Tweets. Posts?"
His face remained blank.
She pressed forward.
"Funny ones."
"No."
"Supportive ones."
"No."
"Positive edits."
"No."
"Sir."
"No."
"Sir."
"No."
“Kaya ka single eh.” She muttered under her breath.
“Anong sabi mo?” Sherwin almost got out of his seat.
She sighed dramatically.
"You're killing my creativity."
"I can live with that."
She stared.
He stared back.
A battle of wills neither intended to lose.
Finally she changed tactics.
"We'll screen everything first."
"No politics."
"No politics."
"No controversy."
"No controversy."
"No hate comments."
"No hate comments."
"We just want something fun."
Sherwin looked at her.
Then at the mountain of paperwork waiting for him.
Then back at her.
The past few weeks had been exhausting.
Everyone was exhausted.
Maybe she had a point.
A terrible point.
But still a point.
He exhaled.
"Sige na nga."
Her eyes widened.
"Really?"
"Really."
The grin that spread across her face should have served as a warning.
Instead, Sherwin simply returned to his paperwork.
"Thank you, sir."
"Mhm."
"I'll prepare everything."
"Mhm."
She practically skipped out of the office.
The door clicked shut.
Sherwin continued reading.
Unaware.
Completely unaware.
That somewhere inside a forgotten folder sat a twenty-second TikTok with one hundred thirty-one likes.
A Kim Chiu soundtrack.
A Senate livestream.
Senator Risa Hontiveros.
And a caption that was about to make several members of his staff question every life decision that had brought them to this moment.
Including their own.