The room was still dark when Rainan woke with a jolt. A stabbing pain tore through his lower abdomen, forcing him to curl up instinctively. He was drenched in sweat, his breathing shallow, and his hands trembled as he reached for the edge of the bed. It took him a few seconds to gather the strength to sit up.
He squinted through the shadows, trying to find his bag, where he kept his medicine. His fingers fumbled with the zipper until he finally managed to open it. With a shaky hand, he grabbed the pill bottle, twisted the cap off, and popped two tablets into his mouth. He swallowed them dry.
His body slumped back against the edge of the bed, chest heaving. The pain hadn't fully subsided, but at least it was no longer overwhelming. His vision blurred slightly, and he rubbed his face, trying to pull himself together.
He hated this—the reminder of what he was facing. The silence in his room made everything feel heavier. It was just him, the cold air, and the reality he could never escape.
Rainan sat there for what felt like hours, curled up and still, waiting for the medicine to kick in. Eventually, the pain dulled. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to collect himself, before pushing himself up and leaning against the wall.
"I'm okay," he muttered under his breath, though it sounded more like a lie.
By the time morning came, light spilled through the window, and the town was already waking. Birds chirped outside, and distant voices from neighbors signaled the start of a new day. Rainan forced himself to get up, splashed cold water on his face, and stared at his reflection in the mirror.
He gave himself a weak smile.
“Come on, let’s just get through the day.”
--------
Rainan walked out of the house just as the sun began to warm the quiet streets of San Felino. The pain from earlier still lingered, dull and distant, but manageable. His parents were out in the garden, talking to a neighbor, and they waved when they saw him. He waved back and offered a small smile, doing his best to hide the heaviness he carried.
The town was bustling more than usual—colorful buntings danced in the breeze, stalls were being set up, and laughter echoed from the nearby plaza. Rainan had almost forgotten today was one of San Felino’s small but beloved community events: the annual Timpalak Bayan, a tradition filled with music, games, food, and local performances.
He didn’t have plans to go, but something about the air—its warmth, its familiarity—nudged him to take a walk and maybe see what had changed.
As he neared the plaza, the nostalgic hum of old folk songs played through large speakers, and kids ran past him with paper flags and ice cream-stained shirts. He caught sight of familiar faces—some aging, some unchanged—all smiling, calling out his name with surprised delight.
“Rainan? Rainan Alon? Is that you?”
He turned and was immediately pulled into a warm hug by Mrs. Tomas, the bakery owner. “You look thinner now, but still as handsome as ever!”
He laughed softly. “Good to see you too, Mrs. Tomas.”
People welcomed him with casual waves and playful teasing. He nodded, answered their questions vaguely, and did his best to look lively despite the exhaustion still gripping his body.
He wandered around the food stalls, sampling some cassava cake and picking up a bottle of calamansi juice. For the first time in a while, the weight on his shoulders felt lighter. There was something soothing about being around people who had known him before life became complicated.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here.”
A voice behind him made him turn.
Angelo.
He was holding two small cups of taho and looked casual, as if he just happened to be passing by. Rainan blinked, surprised.
“I could say the same,” Rainan replied, then nodded at the extra taho. “Both of those for you?”
Angelo raised an eyebrow, then offered him one with a slight smirk. “I was being polite.”
Rainan chuckled as he accepted it. “Thanks.”
They stood in a quiet corner near the basketball court, watching a group of kids competing in a sack race. For a few moments, neither of them spoke, just watching the scene in front of them. The atmosphere felt different from their recent encounters—less tense, more... familiar.
“I used to join those races,” Rainan said softly, motioning to the game. “Always lost.”
Angelo smiled. “You were terrible at anything that involved running.”
“And you were annoyingly good at everything,” Rainan said with a playful nudge.
“Still am,” Angelo replied smugly, and they both laughed.
It was the first genuine laugh they shared in years.
As the event went on, they joined some neighbors watching a dance number by the local youth group, then helped an old man fix a crooked table for his halo-halo stall. Conversations stayed light—shared memories of town fiestas, mischievous childhood pranks, and forgotten songs sung off-key in school programs.
Time passed quietly but comfortably.
When the sun began to dip behind the hills, Rainan stretched his arms and let out a tired sigh. “I should head back.”
“I’ll walk you,” Angelo offered casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
They didn’t say much on the walk home, but it didn’t feel awkward anymore. Just two people who once meant something to each other, rediscovering what was once there.
When they reached Rainan’s house, he paused at the gate and turned to Angelo.
“Thanks,” he said softly. “For walking with me. For... earlier.”
Angelo gave him a small nod. “Anytime.”
They shared a brief moment of silence, something unspoken lingering in the air. Then Angelo turned to leave, his steps slow, as if he wasn’t quite ready to go.
Rainan stood at his gate for a long time after, watching the fading figure of the boy he once loved, now a man who still stirred something inside him.
And just for a moment, he allowed himself to hope.