The Idea Of Us (English Version)

2

5:37 AM

The cold breeze swept through, causing the dry leaves to fall one by one from the tall trees, which are slowly becoming bare. With every step I take, I hear the crisp sound of the leaves beneath my feet. The surroundings are still dark, with the sun just beginning to rise. Trees sway, birds perch on branches only to leave every now and then as leaves hit them. People wear thick clothing to endure the intense cold, and even the mist demands attention from everyone.

The world is inherently chaotic, with daily occurrences of terrifying events. People face the risk of being mistaken for someone else and becoming victims of violence. Additionally, individuals are frequently subjected to unwarranted judgment, often without understanding the full context. This can lead to situations where one is publicly celebrated or condemned based on incomplete information, perpetuating a cycle of misunderstanding and judgment.

—

I've been looking for a job for a year—applying everywhere, yet not a single company has called me. We need to get out of that place ASAP! Before it's too late.

I left the house in the early hours so that no one would see me; Mom and Naya were still asleep when I left. I stared at both of them, slowly breathing and peacefully sleeping. I sighed deeply because I realized I would never be able to sleep with that kind of feeling again. Even now, I'm still searching for a place to work, but on every street I pass, there's not a single sign that says "hiring."

People were already walking around the streets, clearly heading to the market to shop. Some shops had opened early, while others were already out driving for rides, and some were collecting recyclable materials. Everyone was busy with their own tasks; everyone had to move just to survive.

As I walked, I felt a glimmer of hope when I saw a store that seemed to be looking for help, evident from the sign hanging near the door. I rushed over and read what was written on the sign.

Come in, we are open!

I thought I was finally going to find a job, so I peeked inside to see if anyone was there, but only an old man was cleaning a dusty shelf.

The lighting inside was nice, inviting even, but I couldn't tell if anyone ever came here; old items were piled high in every corner of the shop.

As I entered the antique shop, the bell hanging above the door chimed. I paused for a moment to take it in before stepping inside completely.

This antique shop was as quiet as a place mourning a loss. Sales must be slow, especially with boxes piled up by the door filled with old and antique items.

But instead of finding a job, I found something else—something I could only see here. A broken old cup caught my attention.

"How much is this, sir?" I asked the man cleaning the old shelf near the back of the store.

"Just twenty pesos, dear!" he replied without even glancing my way.

"That's so cheap."

"Indeed, but it's rich in its history!"

"I'll buy it, sir!" I quickly grabbed the cream-colored broken cup.

"Do you want to know the history of that mug?"

"Yes," I hesitated at first, but I figured I had nothing to lose by listening to the story. He paused his cleaning, approached me, and I felt a mix of confusion and excitement.

"If you can still remember the kidnapping incident in Manila many decades ago..."

"Yes, I know," my eyes widened in shock at how I responded. "Sir," I forced a laugh, I swear I didn't mean to. He probably didn't care; he just stared off into space, as though remembering some of his heroic moments from back in the day.

"Ten children were kidnapped by three unknown men. One child managed to escape using a mug. He broke the handle and almost killed the three men. And that child is me,"

A mug that almost killed three men? That seems absurd. I was left speechless, unable to believe what I had just heard from the old man, and I slowly glanced at the broken cup.

Everything that's broken was once whole, intricate, and complete—something that gave of itself willingly, only to be set aside once its brilliance dulled. Perhaps we were all, in some way, poured into others, shared for their gain, only to be left behind when we were no longer flawless or needed. It's a quiet truth: those pieces of ourselves left with others are what ultimately break us, but also what make us whole in ways no one else sees,

—

I am walking towards the university, and guess what? It feels like going home because the university is so close to the slum. SCU is a Catholic school, so it is obligatory for us to wear their designated uniform.

I let my not-so-thick hair down, and my uniform consists of a white v-neck polo with a necktie bearing the words Fine Arts along with a burgundy pleated skirt that falls perfectly to my knees, neither too long nor too short. I complete the ensemble with a pair of black silk sandals and white socks.

And yes, I am a sophomore Fine Arts student.

While I was in the hallway, I couldn't help but feel anxious, knowing it wasn't impossible for my friends to ask about how I was doing and how our business was faring.

"Excuse me! Coming through!"

I heard a male voice from a distance, which snapped me out of my thoughts. He was in a hurry. I could see him since we were the only two students in the hallway at that moment.

I was too late to dodge, and I ended up colliding with the guy, who seemed to be running from the police in his haste.

In the blink of an eye, I found myself lying on the cold cement, with the guy who bumped into me on top of me.

Thank goodness he had the presence of mind to save me from a serious concussion; he used his left elbow to cushion my head from hitting the ground.

"Oops! Sorry about that!" he said, flashing a mischievous grin.

I was momentarily stunned, unable to contain my amazement at the guy who was now on top of me. His breath smelled nice, his nose was perfectly shaped, his skin smooth, and his eyebrows thick.

"Get up, you two!"

We suddenly realized that many students were staring at us, especially Miss Gonzales, one of our strictest professors since freshman year.

I pushed him away and quickly fixed myself before standing up, keeping my head down in embarrassment. Thankfully, the gossiping students started returning to their respective classrooms.

Meanwhile, he just stood there, grinning and staring off into space. What a weirdo!

"What's there to be sorry about?" I asked irritably, which made him turn to face me. Thankfully, Miss Gonzales had already left. "You should watch where you're going!"

He didn't answer me; instead, he just winked and ran away in my direction. Thankfully, my clothes weren't too dirty.

"He's handsome, but he smells like a fuckboy!" I muttered into the air as I watched him slowly disappear from my view.

I quickly grabbed my small mirror from the floor and checked to see if any of my makeup had come off.

To my surprise, when I looked at my lips, the lipstick I had applied was mostly gone. My eyes widened as I stared blankly into space.

"Did we just kiss?"