September 1, 2019

As the car slows to a halt, Julian's eyelids flicker open. He grimaces, massaging the sore muscles in his neck, and lets out a deep, groggy yawn. The hours spent cramped in one position have left him stiff.

"Julian, we're here," Lina announces from the front seat, unbuckling her seatbelt and glancing back at him with a smile.

His Tito Randy turns off the ignition, beaming with the same enthusiasm. "Welcome to university life! You're going to love it here."

Julian offers a grin, still can't quite manage a nod. Stepping out of the car, his gaze sweeps over the freshly renovated five-story, all-boys dormitory building, just a short walk from campus. It's supposed to feel exciting, this new chapter of his life, but his mind is clouded, caught up in the remnants of the dream that had also stirred him awake.

Joaquin hadn't appeared in his dreams for a while. When he did, it was always from a distance, hovering in the periphery. This time, however, it was a vivid recollection of how they first met, and how they grew apart.

Julian tries to shake off the persistent gloom.

Because here he is, at the very university where Joaquin might also be attending. It's purely speculative, based on his somewhat excessive checking of social media, where @joaquin_chavez keeps popping up in group photos, though he never posts anything himself. He looks different—his clothes scream wealth, and now he wears glasses.

But Julian isn't fooled. Joaquin is still Joaquin, and Julian can't let go of the hope that he'll run into him. That he still remembers.

Randy hauls the suitcase from the trunk while Lina wraps Julian in a tight hug. "Take care, alright? You can always come home anytime."

"Thanks, Ma," Julian says, accepting his luggage from his stepdad, who offers him a supportive nod.

"Go get them!"

"Thanks, Tito."

Lina lets go, turning to lean into Randy's arms, and Julian feels an unexpected relief in his chest. His family may have changed, but it feels like it has fallen into place.

After Lina and Randy's breakup, Randy reappeared in Romblon a year later, ring in hand. Things moved fast after that. Within months, they were married, and Julian found himself relocating to Manila.

At first, he hated it. The city felt suffocating—too many cars, too much smog. He wondered why he ever thought Manila was beautiful as a kid. He also wondered if Joaquin had felt the same way when he was forced to leave the city for Romblon. Seeing his mother so happy had been the final nudge to make peace with the transition.

He wasn't a small-town boy anymore. He had to adapt.

Yet, it hadn't been easy. Although he spoke Tagalog, his thick Bisayan accent set him apart. He made friends thanks to his stubborn and outgoing nature, but none could measure up to his childhood best friend.

A spike of frustration rises in him. For a while, it was reassuring to know that Joaquin was still out there, somewhere. He had even written to him after moving to Manila, hoping they could reconnect. To return to how things were. But Joaquin never responded.

He sniggers. Well, Joaquin better watch out—he's going to make him pay for ghosting his letters!

"Julian?" Lina's voice snaps him out of his daze.

"Sorry, Ma, just a bit overwhelmed," he mutters, kneading his shoulder absentmindedly. "I'll get settled in. I've got an early class tomorrow. Love you both!" He waves, tugging his suitcase up the steps, the wheels clattering against the cement. With a parting smile, Julian throws them a finger-heart, seeing his mom's face light up before he slips inside.

The dorm administrator greets him and gives a brief tour of the third floor. There's a shared kitchen for light cooking, a laundry room, and communal showers down the hall. After running through the rules—quiet hours, no pets policy—she guides him to his room, conveniently located next to the elevator.

When he steps inside, the space feels eerily empty. The room is bare except for a bed, a closet, and a small study desk. No roommates. Just him.

Julian wastes no time unpacking. Clothes in the closet. Shoes on the rack. Computer on the desk. Finally, his hands settle on a small framed photo buried in his things. He pulls it out gently. A picture of him, his mother, and Joaquin from his ninth birthday.

He wipes a layer of dust off the glass with his shirt, his heart catching in his throat as memories flood back. Joaquin's rare smile, the teasing laughter that had always gotten under his skin. How they were once inseparable.

Julian sets the frame next to his laptop on the desk.

He'll find him, no matter what.

******

Extremely ear-piercing music plays from the enormous speakers of the living room, the bass shaking the floor, blending with the chatter and laughter of people huddled in groups around the room. Some dance, others are deep in conversation or knocking back drinks. Then there's Joaquin, lounging on the couch, full attention on his phone, beer in hand.

Alexander plops down next to him, waving a shot of tequila under his nose. "Come on, man, take a shot! Loosen up!"

Joaquin doesn't bother looking up, raising his half-empty drink. "Pass."

With a roll of his eyes, Alexander leans over, peeking at Joaquin's screen. "Wait, are you seriously reading the news? At a party?"

Joaquin keeps scrolling, the same old headlines staring back at him—another political scandal, a senator tangled in corruption. Further down, reports of illegal detentions and killings in rural areas. Nothing surprising and new, but he can't ignore it. It still makes his blood boil.

"I told you I didn't want to come," he shouts over the music. "I don't get why we need a pre-semester party when we'll be doing this every week once classes start."

"You sound like a grandpa—" Alexander starts to tease, but then swiftly shifts tone. "Oh, incoming, incoming..."

Joaquin stiffens, his grip tightening on his beer as Myka, his most recent ex, slides onto the couch next to him. Across from them, Alexander downs his tequila, wincing as he sucks on a lemon.

"Damn, that burns... Hey, Myka," he grins, recovering from the alcohol's sting. "Nice party."

She responds with a polite smile then turns to Joaquin. "Why are you sitting over here? Let's dance."

"I'm good," Joaquin mutters, scooting farther. This is exactly why he didn't want to come. Myka still seems to think they're getting back together. They're not. It was a favor to his Dad, really—get to know the governor's daughter, keep things smooth.

But Joaquin got bored fast. In fact, he usually gets bored fast, and Myka's no exception.

Alexander swoops in to save him. "My guy's not really feeling it tonight. Probably saving his energy for senior year."

"I've got an 8:30 class tomorrow."

"Isn't it just some intro English class?"

"But it's still 8:30 AM, and I need it to graduate," Joaquin insists, glaring at Alexander, whose grin persists. Sometimes, his friend drives him nuts. It's like he wants to help him, but not without seeing him irritated.

"Oh, um, okay," Myka mumbles, disappointment clouding her face. "Will I see you in the org room, then?"

Alexander is getting second hand embarrassment. Poor Myka's getting rejected for the umpteenth time.

"Doubt it," Joaquin says, inserting his phone into his pocket and finishing off his beer. His ears are ringing, the noise grating on him. He stands up. "I'm heading out. Thanks for the invite, though."

"A-Alright."

Joaquin shoots Alexander a look. "You coming? Don't you also have a 9 AM class?"

His friend groans but gets up. "I do. I regret it now."

They weave through the crowd, waving half-hearted goodbyes to anyone who bothers to notice. Outside, the distant thump of EDM still pulses through the air as they step onto the quiet street.

"Man, did you really have to shut Myka down like that?" Alexander asks as they wait for Joaquin's driver. "She's probably the nicest girl you've dated."

"What was I supposed to do? Drag it out?"

"But the poor girl's still crushing on you hard. You should've given it at least... three months?"

"She'll move on."

Alexander sighs, letting the conversation drop. This is one area where they never see eye to eye. Alexander dates a lot, acting like the perfect boyfriend until they both realize things aren't working. Joaquin dates less, usually on his father's recommendation, and he's always the one doing the dumping. He does it in a straightforward fashion, no drama—yet the girls still seem to want him more afterward. It's a weird talent.

The two part ways when they get to Alexander's house, a few blocks away from the Chavez's, located inside a gated subdivision.

"See you tomorrow."

"Night," Joaquin says, rolling the windows down. He arrives home in less than three minutes.

Joaquin comes in stealthily. It's the dead of the night, and his father is most likely in bed, fast asleep. He heads straight to his room, treading lightly like a burglar.

After a quick shower, he changes into pajamas, removes his glasses, and collapses onto the bed. It's exhausting to be out and about, but it's also draining to be home. Their mansion is eerily silent, and with his father busy with politicking as a cabinet member, he's often got an eye on him. Like he's under a microscope. It's just difficult to find peace everywhere.

Plus, Alexander always shows up and drags him to social events. It's pointless to say no to a force like him.

Much like... Much like someone he knows.

Knew.

A kid's face flashes into his head, and his heart starts to thump and twist simultaneously. He's vowed to forget that part of his life. Treat it like an intermission. It's the right thing to do. He wouldn't be able to move on if he clung to the parts that hurt the most.

And it is what's fair to him.

For Joaquin to be gone.