The Golden Ruins (High School Series #2)

Chapter 28

The Vipers' side erupted in cheers and celebrations, while Baviera's players stood on the court, absorbing the bitter sting of defeat. The team moving on to the finals would be the Vipers against Montessori, while we were headed home.

Gio huddled the team afterward, giving us his final speech as Baviera's captain. Despite losing in his final year of leading, he wore a calm, satisfied expression.

"May mga pagkakamali, may mga pagkakataon na nadapa tayo," His eyes scanned each of us softly. "Pero bawat isa sa inyo, bumangon ulit. Hindi tayo sumuko. That's what makes us champions, kahit hindi tayo ang nasa finals."

Zhef sniffled, wiping away tears. "Sorry, Capt," he managed between sobs, regretful for not giving our seniors a better farewell. "Kasalanan ko."

"Dapat mas ginalingan ko pa," Kleo added, his head bowed in shame.

Gio's voice softened, and he smiled warmly. "Walang sisihan, walang regrets. We learn from this, we grow from this. May next season pa, gamitin niyo 'to as motivation. Keep fighting, keep pushing yourselves, and never forget the passion that brought you here."

Van placed a reassuring hand on Gio's shoulder, their bond evident in their shared smile. "Magtiwala kayo sa isa't isa at sa proseso. Lahat ng hirap na 'to, may kapalit na tagumpay. Hindi lang ngayon, pero sa mga susunod na taon," Van added.

Gio took a final look at the team, his eyes shining with pride, a tear of happiness escaping.

"Tuloy ang laban, kahit saan man tayo mapunta. Keep the spirit of Baviera alive. You're the future of this team, and I believe in every one of you." With that, he reached out, pulling us all into a tight huddle. "One last time, together. Baviera on three. One, two, three..."

"Baviera, fight!" our voices echoed.

Tears streamed down our faces.

I had only joined the team less than a year ago, but in that short time, I saw how much Baviera leaned on its seniors, especially Gio. He was always the one lifting our spirits, and pushing us forward. He was the foundation of the team, the reason for our success.

Amidst the celebrations and farewells, a faint thud caught my attention. I turned towards the door to see Cal walking away with a distant gaze. Unlike the others, he hadn't congratulated anyone or joined in the bittersweet farewells. He didn't even cry.

I followed him quietly, keeping my distance as he made his way to a quiet spot by the balcony. Cal was known for his silence, for carrying burdens without letting others in. But tonight felt different, heavier.

I watched him lean against the railing, his shoulders slumped and his head bowed. He looked so small against the vast darkness of the night sky.

Leaning against the railing, his back turned to me, I saw his shoulders start to shake. At first, I thought it was anger or frustration, but then I heard the soft, muffled sounds—he was sobbing.

I've never seen him cry before.

My heart sank. He had to get away from everyone to let his guard down. He always seemed so strong, but when he's alone, it's like the weight of the world comes crashing down on him.

I could relate to that feeling—the need to hide your pain because you think no one would understand, or worse, that they might see you differently.

I stepped closer, my footsteps echoing softly on the balcony tiles. "Cal," I said softly, not wanting to startle him.

His voice was hoarse from crying. "Huwag ngayon, Eli..."

I knew exactly how it felt.

To be engulfed in your own sorrow, isolated in your pain—it's like drowning in the sea, struggling against waves with no one to pull you out.