Chapter 5: Shadow and Spark
975 Words
The days were getting warmer, but inside Aira’s chest, things felt complicated. Not heavy—just… unfamiliar.
Biyernes ng hapon, and the Literature department was buzzing. Everyone was busy preparing for midterms, pero si Aira, iba ang iniisip. She had just printed the latest draft of their collaborative narrative. On the way to their meeting spot, she caught her reflection in a glass door and frowned.
Since when did she care how she looked before seeing Liam?
She shook the thought off and pushed open the library’s side entrance.
Nagulat siya nang makita si Liam na nandoon na. His things were already spread out—tablet open, a pencil behind his ear, flipping through thumbnails. She approached him, and when he looked up and smiled, her heartbeat stuttered.
“Y-you’re early,” she said.
He smirked. “I had a good feeling today.”
Aira raised an eyebrow. “About what?”
“About the piece. I sketched something last night. You have to see it.”
He turned the screen toward her. The illustration showed a narrow hallway, light leaking from a door at the end, casting long shadows. A girl stood in the middle, frozen. A boy waited at the exit—backlit, distant, almost out of reach.
Aira's breath caught.
“Drinowing mo ’to... galing sa scene na sinulat ko,” she said softly.
He nodded. “I read it three times. It hit.”
Tinignan niya ulit ang sketch. “You got it exactly right.”
There was a pause, not awkward—just... loaded.
“I think we’re starting to read each other,” Liam said.
Aira folded her arms. “Scary.”
He laughed. “Scary, but kinda cool.”
They settled in, reviewing the flow of their final act. The exhibit was almost complete. What began as a reluctant team-up had turned into something layered, honest—and surprising.
---
Later that night, Aira sat at her desk. The only light came from her laptop. Tahimik ang bahay; tulog na ang mga kapatid niya. Her parents hadn’t brought up school since their last argument, but the silence between them said enough.
She reread what she had written in her journal earlier:
“I don’t know what this is. It’s not love—no. But it’s something. Something I don’t hate.”
Her phone buzzed.
[Liam]: Hey. You awake?
She stared at the screen. It was past midnight.
[Aira]: Obviously. You?
[Liam]: Sketching. Again. Can’t sleep.
[Aira]: Insomnia or inspiration?
[Liam]: Both, I think. Can I show you something?
Seconds later, a photo arrived. A sketch of two hands—one reaching, the other hesitant.
A caption followed:
“Some people reach without knowing if they’ll be caught.”
Aira stared at it for a long moment.
[Aira]: That’s beautiful.
[Liam]: Thanks. It feels like us, somehow. You know, this project. This weird in-between.
She hesitated before replying.
[Aira]: Yeah. I get that.
There was silence for a while.
[Liam]: I guess that’s it. Goodnight.
[Aira]: Uhmm... yeah. Goodnight.
And she did. More than she wanted to admit.
---
Professor Villanueva stood at the front of the class, her voice clear and confident. “Next Monday, all seminar groups will present their progress before a faculty panel. Think of it as a dry run for the real exhibit.”
Murmurs spread across the room.
Liam leaned over. “We’re ready… right?”
Aira didn’t answer right away.
“We’re close,” she said. “But we need polish. Better transitions. Maybe a stronger opening.”
He nodded. “Let’s lock in this weekend.”
And they did.
Saturday turned into a marathon. Sa isang bakanteng classroom, they laid out storyboards, tested lighting simulations, and rerecorded voiceovers.
At one point, Aira stood near the screen, arms crossed, listening to a playback.
“I sound too stiff,” she muttered.
Liam, chewing his pen cap, nodded. “It’s a bit formal. Try saying it like you’re just talking to me. No script. Just... feel it.”
She stared. “Now?”
He nodded.
She took a breath.
“We walk through spaces without thinking—hallways, streets, silence between people. But sometimes, those spaces are echoes. Of what we don’t say. Or what we feel too much to explain.”
When she finished, Liam just looked at her.
“Keep that,” he said. “That was it.”
Her cheeks warmed. “You’re sure?”
“One hundred percent.”
The rest of the night was spent weaving that tone into the project—laughing when they got too tired, arguing over colors, patching up disagreements with inside jokes that were starting to feel like theirs.
---
Sunday evening. The project was done.
They stood outside the building, the air cool, their limbs sore, their eyes heavy—but proud.
“Do you think we’ll impress the panel?” Aira asked.
Liam shoved his hands into his jacket. “Honestly? I don’t care about the panel.”
She gave him a look.
“I mean, I care,” he corrected. “But I care more that we made something real. You pushed me to be better.”
Her expression softened. “You challenged me, too. In ways I didn’t expect.”
A breeze drifted between them. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was heavy with something else.
Then Liam said, “So… after the seminar, when this is all done... do we go back to just being classmates?”
Aira blinked.
It was the question she hadn’t let herself ask.
She didn’t answer. Not yet.
Instead, she smiled faintly. “Let’s survive Monday first.”
Liam laughed. “Deal.”
But as they walked away from the building, side by side, no longer strangers, they both felt it.
Something had started.
And neither of them wanted it to end.
- Writer
