Let The Light In.

Chapter three: Xavier

As we stepped inside, our senses heightened and our guard still firmly up, the warmth of the mall's stale, untouched air wrapped around us like an invisible blanket. It wasn't comforting, exactly—more like a strange reminder that this place had been sealed off from the outside world. Despite being in the Philippines, the air outside was chilling, biting through the thin layers we wore. Probably because we'd messed up the planet so badly, and now it's on the brink of self-destruction, trying to heal in ways we couldn't understand. But the cold was also a sign. We were close to Baguio.

The survivors we'd met along the way talked about it like a beacon—Baguio, where military personnel protected the last remnants of humanity. They said the city was still functioning, that its borders were patrolled day and night, safe from the horrors outside. It sounded almost too good to be true.

Part of me feared they had lied, that this so-called sanctuary was nothing but a myth. But even if it was, at least they'd given us something to cling to. Hope, even if it was false, had kept us moving when we wanted to stop.

There were nights I thought about giving up, when the weight of it all seemed too much. The revolver would feel heavy in my hands, and I'd imagine pointing it at Yuna, then turning it on myself. It would be a release, an escape from this endless nightmare.

But then I'd look at her—really look—and I couldn't do it. She was the only thing keeping me from slipping into that abyss. So, I kept going. For her. For us. Even if this hope we were chasing turned out to be a lie. After all, we have nothing else to lose but each other.

I reached for Yuna's hand, holding it tightly. I needed her beside me—to anchor me, to keep me grounded. It wasn't the smartest move; we always kept one of us at the back to act as the defender. But right now, I was exhausted from constantly being on guard. I just needed her, and for once, I wanted to show it.

Her grip tightened around mine as we navigated through the mall, both of us hyper-aware of our surroundings. We scanned each aisle, staying alert for any movement, for anything lurking. Occasionally, we grabbed some supplies but made sure not to take too much—it would be impossible to carry everything.

As we walked, I couldn't help but glance at her now and then. My mind drifted back to the day we first met. She looked so different then—vibrant, full of life, and at ease. A preschool teacher, of all things. It suited her—someone so kind and patient. But that version of her felt like a distant memory. Now, there was a heaviness in her eyes, a quiet fatigue and hopelessness that no smile could fully mask.

It made me wonder, what's the point of all this? Why keep pushing forward in a world that seems to have nothing left to offer? But then I remembered—she's the point. She's my reason for living. We had so many plans once, a life we'd imagined together. And now, with Baguio so close, I can't afford to give up. Not when we're almost there.