Halik.
The rain had been falling over Manila since sunset.
Not heavy enough to flood the streets yet—just the steady kind that made everything feel wet, dim, and exhausted. Jeepneys hissed through puddles below. Neon signs flickered over closed sari-sari stores. Somewhere in the distance, a karaoke machine kept trying to sing through bad speakers before cutting into static again.
You sat alone inside your apartment with every light turned on.
You haven’t slept in almost two days.
The electric fan clicked weakly from the corner of the room. Your television played an old noon-time show on mute, its colors washing pale against the walls.
3:17 AM.
Then came the knocking.
Tok. Tok. Tok.
Soft.
Child-sized.
You stopped breathing.
Another three knocks.
Not from the front gate downstairs.
From the apartment door itself.
Slowly, you stood from the couch, knees shaking. You walked toward the peephole without making a sound.
A little girl stared back at you.
Maybe six years old.
Wet black hair stuck against her cheeks. Translucent green raincoat. Barefoot.
Smiling.
You stumbled backward instantly, covering your mouth with both hands.
Behind her, farther down the dim hallway of the apartment building, stood two boys under the flickering fluorescent light.
Also smiling.
The girl tilted her head slightly.
Waiting.
You kept your hands firmly against your mouth.
Immediately, her smile disappeared.
Her face became completely blank.
Not angry. Not sad.
Just empty.
You felt your stomach twist.
That was the rule.
As long as you covered your mouth, they stopped.
The moment you lowered your guard, they tried to kiss you.
And once they did—
you died.
Not right away.
That was the terrifying part.
A call center agent in Makati got kissed and died four days later after suddenly swerving his motorcycle into a truck on EDSA.
A student from Sampaloc had a stroke in the middle of class.
An old man in Tondo simply never woke up.
Different deaths. Same smile.
You knew because you had seen the first kiss happen himself.
Three nights ago on the LRT.
A tired office worker had fallen asleep beside him near Recto Station while rain hammered against the train windows.
Then you noticed a little boy standing between the train doors.
Barefoot. Pale. Smiling.
Nobody else reacted.
The boy walked calmly toward the sleeping man and climbed onto the seat beside him.
You couldn’t move.
The child leaned forward and gave the office worker the smallest kiss on the lips.
Smack.
Gentle.
Almost innocent.
The man woke up confused.
The child looked directly at you and smiled wider.
The next morning, you saw the office worker’s face shared online: MAN FALLS FROM CONDOMINIUM IN PASIG.
Since then, the children followed you everywhere.
In crowded palengkes. Reflections on jeepney windows. Outside 7-Eleven glass doors at midnight.
Always smiling.
Always patient.
Tok. Tok. Tok.
You flinched violently.
The knocking had moved.
Now it came from the window beside the fire escape.
You turned slowly.
The girl in the raincoat stood outside six floors above the street, rain dripping from her hood, smiling through the glass.
Below her, Manila glowed wet and orange in the storm.
“How did you get there…” you whispered.
The girl leaned closer.
You pressed your hands tighter over your mouth.
Instantly—
blank face again.
The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed loudly.
Then flickered.
You backed toward the kitchen.
Your phone vibrated suddenly on the table.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
You answered shakily.
A tired male voice whispered:
“Don’t let them kiss you.”
Static crackled.
Your throat tightened. “Who are you?”
“I lasted eleven days.”
Silence.
Then:
“They wait until you’re tired.”
The line died.
The apartment lights flickered once more.
Then it went out completely.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Outside, thunder rolled over the city.
Your breathing became ragged through your nose. You kept both hands pressed desperately over your mouth as you reached blindly for your phone flashlight.
Click.
The beam illuminated the living room.
Empty.
Then lower.
Tiny wet footprints crossed the tiles.
Toward the hallway.
You backed away slowly.
The flashlight trembled violently in your hand.
At the end of the hallway stood three children shoulder-to-shoulder.
Smiling.
Rainwater dripped from their clothes onto the floor.
The smallest boy held a dirty Santo Niño statue against his chest.
All three stared at you without blinking.
Waiting.
Not forcing.
Never forcing.
That was the worst thing about them.
You could fight a killer. Run from a monster.
But exhaustion always won eventually.
Your hands slipped. Your body relaxed. You forgot for one second.
And that was enough.
The children took one synchronized step forward.
You whimpered behind his hands.
The boy holding the Santo Niño suddenly spoke in a soft cheerful voice:
“Pagod ka na.”
You’re tired now.
Your eyes filled with tears instantly.
The flashlight flickered weakly.
The children smiled wider.
Outside, somewhere far below, a jeepney horn echoed through the rain-soaked streets of Manila.
Then the flashlight died.
Context: I had a dream. And made a short story about it since hindi ako makamove-on sa panaginip na yun. Kailangan ko lang ilabas.