Michaels in Love (BoyXBoy) English

Chapter 19 - Season 1: The Nice Guy

But just as the moment seemed to unfold perfectly, the unexpected happened. The entire internet café plunged into darkness, save for the faint glow emanating from the main server's monitor. The soft hum of the machines died, replaced by murmurs of frustration from other patrons.

"Damn it!" I muttered under my breath, sighing heavily as I slumped back in my chair. "Why now of all times?"

Reluctantly, I stood and made my way to the counter, where the cashier stood with a flashlight in hand.

"Emil, what about what I was working on? Will my Facebook stay logged in? Someone might mess with it!"

"Don't worry," he assured me, his voice calm and practiced. "Once the computer restarts, it will auto-log out of everything—Facebook, other sites, everything."

"Okay," I replied with a nod. "How much do I owe you?"

"Fifteen pesos."

I handed him the money, murmuring my thanks. "Thanks," I said, though my frustration was still evident in my tone.

I heaved another sigh as I stepped outside. My conversation with niceguy87 had been cut short, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. The questions I hadn't yet asked hung in the air, unfinished sentences that would have to wait.

"Haaay," I muttered, starting the walk home. My thoughts shifted to Mike. The whole day had passed without a single message or call from him. Not even a quick check-in. What's going on with him? I wondered, frustration and worry competing in my chest.

When I finally arrived home, my irritation only grew. The power outage had extended here, too—my house was dark and lifeless, mirroring the unease I felt inside.

I dropped onto the couch, the stillness of the house wrapping around me like an unwelcome blanket. My mind raced with unanswered questions. Where was Mike? Why hadn't he reached out? Had something happened?

The faint glow of my phone screen offered little comfort as I stared at it, hoping it would light up with his name, his voice message, his words to fill the void.

But there was nothing.

February 10, 2012

The morning sunlight streamed through my window, but the brightness couldn't shake the heaviness that settled over me when my phone buzzed at 9:00 AM. Vince was calling from New York, and though thousands of miles separated us, the urgency in his voice was palpable.

"Michael, I need to tell you something," he began, his tone heavy with concern. "It's about Gino... He's been confined at the Philippine General Hospital for months now."

My stomach twisted at his words.

"I've been helping him quietly," Vince continued, his voice cracking slightly, "but he didn't want anyone to know about his condition. He didn't want to worry anyone."

The news hit me like a blow. Gino—one of my closest friends from high school and college—had been suffering in silence, keeping his pain hidden even from those who cared about him most.

"They're transferring him to San Lazaro Hospital today or tomorrow," Vince added, his words pressing down on me like lead. "Michael... it's serious. He's in critical condition."

I closed my eyes, a wave of emotions crashing over me. Memories of Gino flooded my mind—his warm laughter, the strength he showed when he came out to our circle of friends three years ago. I remembered how he had confided in us about his relationship with another man, his voice trembling with vulnerability. We had embraced him without hesitation, though deep down, we all knew some of us carried truths we weren't yet ready to share.