Boboiboy realized too late that he'd been staring longer than anyone was comfortable with. Fang and Kaizo both stared at him with equally worried expressions.

"Are you alright?" Fang frowned. "You just spaced out."

Boboiboy shook his head to clear his mind, grinning weakly to indicate that he was okay. Kaizo nodded at his confirmation and opened the gates, and he beckoned them inside.

Once they were in, Boboiboy's throat swelled at how similar the design remained. There wasn't much change compared to years ago, only with a few additions such as alien-tech and spoils of war that Fang had allowed the photographers to take pictures for their newspapers. Some had never been displayed to public, which would usually intrigue him, but he didn't have the heart to care.

"Follow me, I'll show you your room for tonight." Fang patted his shoulder, gaining his attention. Boboiboy nodded hastily and followed him, though he needn't spared the courtesy. His memory was vague, but he remembered which room was which.

Fang didn't lead him to his old room. Instead, Fang led him towards another room, where there was already someone staying inside, which was obvious with the untidied blanket, and the books on the study table.

"The guest room was too dusty, so you're sleeping with me tonight. Do you mind taking the floor? I'll bring you a mattress."

"Oh—I don't mind. Thanks a lot."

Fang lent Boboiboy a change of clothes, though his choice of fashion consisted of black shirts with skulls and death metal slogans printed on the very front. It was to be expected. It wasn't surprising.

They took turns using the only bathroom in the house, which Fang told Boboiboy to go before him. He still had some reports to do to submit to whatever alien species were out there that organized a space organization that protected... whatever. He was a reporter, but it's not like he cared.

The shower was nice, but Boboiboy went without brushing his teeth. They didn't have a spare toothbrush, and he didn't feel comfortable using the mouthwash, so he took a mint (he brought those anywhere in case of an impromptu interview) and prayed his breath won't smell like rotten coffee beans in the morning.

When he was done, Fang went inside for his turn. So that left Boboiboy sitting on the mattress, his legs crossed and towel around his neck, sitting awkwardly as he looked around the room.

For someone who engaged regularly in supernatural battles and is a superhuman, Fang's room was shockingly normal. It wasn't the cleanest, but then again, no teenager's rooms are perfect.

Boboiboy stared at the door that led to the outside. He was tempted to go to his old room and check what happened to it, but it would strain Kaizo and Fang's hospitality. Did Tok leave the house's name under Kaizo? It would make sense, seeing...

He squashed the thought. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault. It's not his fault. It wasn't his fault—

The door opened.

"You okay?" Fang quizzed, wiping his hair with a purple towel. "You look like you're fighting space parasites."

Of course he would use that description. Why not?

"Just having a little existential crisis," he muttered. "Other than that, I'm fine."

"Do you need someone to talk to?"

"No."

"At least tell me your name. We've come to this, but you still haven't told me your name!"

"Didn't Gopal tell you?"

"He has the memory span of a goldfish but I still trust him. Your point is?"

Boboiboy sniffed. "My name's Boboiboy. Nice to meet you." At this point, he couldn't even tell whether he was being sarcastic or not.

Fang plopped himself on his bed, his towel falling to his lap. He frowned in deep thought, fingers cupping his chin. "Are you sure we haven't met before? I know I've heard of your name somewhere."

"Gee. I'm flattered." Boboiboy scratched his neck and fished out his phone from his dirty clothes. The battery was almost dead, and there was no reception. He turned it off, and dropped it by his pillow. "But honestly, I don't know you personally. I left the island before you even debuted as a hero."

Fang's eyebrow arched. "You heard about me?"

Boboiboy stifled a chuckle. "Everyone's heard all about you. You're all over the papers."

"I guess I am pretty famous..." Fang suddenly frowned, turning away. "I just wish Tok Aba could see me now."

Hearing the familiar name, Boboiboy turned guarded. "Tok Aba?" he blurted, almost forgetting that Fang didn't know his relationship with him.

Fang nodded. "I never told anyone this, but I think I can trust you." He turned to Boboiboy. "Can you keep secret?"

Can he keep secret? Boboiboy didn't know. He was a reporter. He was running blog specially for Fang and his team. He came here to ask them questions personally in the first place. Withholding information was one of the biggest sins in the multimedia community.

"Sure," he breathed. His voice sounded weak, even to him.

Fang nodded gratefully, a grin cracking. "When I was 10, my parents abandoned me. Tok Aba took me under his wing, and called me his own grandson. But then villains attacked for the first time, I found Ochobot... and that's how I got my powers."

He took a deep breath. "He was proud of me, and I wanted to make him prouder. I want him to be the grandpa of the greatest hero of the universe. I went too far. Before I knew it, he was dead, and Kaizo finally tracked me down. He'd given me his legacy—his will, and I can't—" He gritted his teeth. "He's dead because of me, alright? If I didn't—"

Boboiboy wasn't sure whether he was hearing Fang correctly. He thought Tok Aba's death was caused by his parents breaking up and having an epic fight. But Fang's side of the story was completely different.

He looked to Fang, but the hero was already wiping his tears and putting on his cheery attitude. It seemed so fake now. How can Fang just tell all of that to a stranger? They barely knew anything about each other.

Maybe he'll trust himself to keep a secret after all.

* * *

At midnight, where everyone was asleep, Boboiboy's eyes were still crystal clear, his conscious bright as day.

Should he see his old room? He glanced at Fang, who was asleep on his side, back facing him. There was nothing that could stop him now. All he needed was a peek, and that was it.

He sat up, careful not to make any noise, and opened the door. The house was dark, the moonlight and streetlights shining through the windows. Gently, he headed up the stairs, old memories rekindling as he was faced with familiar sights.

There were a couple of rooms—under the stairs was a storage room, the knob dusty, visible that no one had bothered to touch it. On the second floor, there were two rooms on either side. One that belonged to Tok Aba's, the other belonging to him.

At least, him when he was younger.

He crept up the stairs, the old wood creaking under his steps. He cringed at every squeak, but he braved himself to the very top.

Finally, he reached the door of his old room. There was a worn-out sticker at a toddler's height, most of the sticker torn and yellowed. Like the storage room below, the knob hadn't been used for some time.

His hand curled around the metal, the metal cold due to the night's temperature. Taking in a deep breath, he turned the knob.

Click, click.

It was locked.

His old room was locked. That meant either Fang or Kaizo had the key. But Boboiboy wasn't entirely clueless either. He was resourceful... and he silently thanked his grandfather for what he gave him years ago.

He ventured back to Fang's room and dug for his wallet. He picked out pictures of random anime characters, and fished out the ring of keys behind it.

There were two keys around the silver ring, hadn't rusted despite the passage of time. There was a solid imprint of the keys in the leather, hang cramped there for a long time.

If he stood correctly, one of them should open his room door, and the other the storage room. If Kaizo hadn't opened it, it should be relevant to Tok Aba.

He crept outside again, approaching the storage room. He tried a key, but it didn't fit. He tried the other, and it did. Praying for no one to notice him, he turned the key, and the door opened with a rusted creak.

He peeked inside, squinting through the darkness to see whatever was inside. In small space, there was only a wooden box, placed on the floor and covered with a thick layer of dust. There was a note attached to it, saying only his name: Boboiboy.