Chapter 9 - Season 1: Under The Moonlight
2033 Words
Sunday afternoon finally came, and we held our much-anticipated first practice for the basketball league. Mike's childhood nanny, Mama Rose, happened to be the wife of the barangay captain in their area, so we used the barangay's covered court for practice. Conveniently, it wasn’t far from Mike’s family house.
The practice went well. I tried my best to ignore the feelings I had for Mike, but my eyes kept finding him, filled with a love I struggled to hide. I composed myself, making sure I didn’t give anything away. Mike seemed to be doing the same. Even though I glanced into his eyes several times, I could never fully read him. Perhaps he was cautious, not wanting our teammates to suspect anything. I understood that. So, I forced myself to concentrate on the practice. I spoke to him as I would anyone else and was extra careful with my actions. But deep down, it was agony. Every moment we were together, I longed to embrace him, kiss him, and scream to the world how much I loved him.
As the sun set, our practice wrapped up, and Mike invited us over to his family house for dinner. Their property was lovely. Just past the gate, there was a treehouse perched on an old acacia tree. Across from it stood an abandoned house with a rusty auto shop attached. Entering their gate, you were greeted by a sprawling garden filled with flowering santan bushes. Towering coconut trees surrounded the area, with native mango trees scattered about and a vegetable garden hidden behind their old house.
Mike’s family hadn’t lived in their ancestral home for ten years, having moved to Gilmore after his parents' business took off. Mama Rose and her husband, Mang Oscar, had become the house's caretakers and now lived there. Mike visited weekly or every other week, depending on his schedule, as he regarded Mama Rose as a second mother. For their part, the couple treated Mike like the son they never had.
When we arrived, the couple welcomed us warmly.
“Good evening!” we greeted in unison.
Their smiles lit up the room as they ushered us in. The delicious aroma of Mama Rose’s lovingly prepared dinner filled the air. The spread was simple yet satisfying, and we couldn’t help but feel at home. But we soon noticed that the couple was dressed up, with packed bags by the door. It seemed they had plans.
Mike explained, “Mama Rose and Papang are headed to a convention in Baguio.”
“Mike, you’re in charge of the house while we’re gone,” Mama Rose said with a smile. “We’ll be back Wednesday.”
“No problem, Mama Rose. Have a safe trip.” Mike kissed her cheek and embraced Papang before seeing them off to their waiting ride.
By the time dinner ended, it was around 6:30 PM. Someone suggested a quick drinking session, and before long, cans of Red Horse beer were passed around. It wasn’t much—two or three cans per person—since most of us had work the next day.
I stayed quiet while the others chatted and laughed. Though Mike sat directly across from me, I avoided looking at him. The alcohol didn’t help my resolve. It only made my feelings harder to suppress.
By 8:00 PM, the drinking wrapped up. Our driver, visibly annoyed, reminded us we were supposed to leave by 7:00. As everyone filed out of the house, I lingered behind, coming out of the bathroom just as the last of my teammates left. Mike was standing near the door, waiting. I paused, catching his eyes for a fleeting moment.
“Mike, thanks... We’re heading out now,” I said softly.
“Okay. Take care,” he replied, his voice steady but his gaze lingering. It was as if he wanted to pull me into an embrace, maybe even steal a goodbye kiss.
I turned to leave but stopped short. Something inside me couldn’t let this moment go.
“Mike…” I said, glancing back at him.
“What is it?” His tone was gentle, almost tender.
“Just… take care. You’ll be here alone.”
“Don’t worry. I’m used to it.”
Our exchange felt different, intimate—like two lovers saying goodbye while silently wishing they didn’t have to part.
“Oh, all right. I’m going now.”
“Take care,” he said again, his voice soft.
I boarded the coaster with the others. As the engine roared to life and we pulled out of the gate, I couldn’t resist looking back. There he was, standing by the window, watching our vehicle disappear into the night. My heart ached with every passing second. I wanted so badly to jump off, run back, and hold him close.
The coaster hadn’t gone far when it stopped at a*****e. The driver needed to grab some water. Without thinking, I made a split-second decision.
“I’m getting off here,” I announced to my teammates.
“What? Why?” one of them asked, surprised.
“I’m feeling a bit sleepy. I’ll stay at my cousin’s place nearby. They’ll pick me up at the barangay hall,” I explained, masking the real reason behind my sudden choice. “I’ll just inform the driver.”
“Okay, take care,” they said, not thinking much of it.
I stepped off the coaster, my pulse racing. As the vehicle drove away, I turned back toward Mike’s house, knowing exactly where I needed to be.
My heart raced as I made a silent vow to myself: if I didn’t fight for what I felt for Mike, I would never find happiness. And even if I faced rejection, I was ready to accept the pain, no matter how much it hurt.
The coaster disappeared into the distance, and I turned to the dimly lit path leading to Mike’s house. The streetlights flickered weakly, with most of them burned out, leaving only the glow of the moon to light my way. The rough road felt endless, each step pulling me closer to the gate that guarded my truth.
As I reached the gate, a melody stopped me in my tracks. It was a voice—soft, deep, and hauntingly beautiful—accompanied by the gentle strumming of a guitar. I scanned the area and spotted its source: the treehouse nestled in the old acacia tree. My heart clenched. It was Mike. His voice, raw and filled with emotion, sang an acoustic version of Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.
I stood there, captivated, as his voice wrapped around me.
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me
And just forget the world?
Forget what we’re told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden
That’s bursting into life.
The words echoed through the quiet night, weaving into the rhythm of my heartbeat.
All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes
They're all I can see.
I closed my eyes, letting the music sink in. It was a moment suspended in time, so beautiful it ached. With every note, I felt the unspoken connection between us—fragile yet undeniable.
“If you’re not willing to risk it all, then you don’t want it bad enough, Michael,” I whispered to myself, pressing a hand against my chest to steady the storm within me.
Moved by his song, I joined in, singing the lyrics I knew by heart. My voice broke through the silence, surprising even myself. Suddenly, the strumming stopped. Mike leaned out of the treehouse, his expression unreadable as he looked down at me. I held his gaze, pouring everything I felt into the final line.
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me
And just forget the world?
“Mike,” I began, my voice trembling, “I came back to tell you—”
“Michael, please… stop.” His voice cut through the air like a blade, and the cold wind carried the weight of his words.
I froze. The sadness in his tone was palpable, but so was the wall he was trying to put between us.
“Isn’t it clear by now? We need to stop this,” he said. “Michael, just leave.”
“I’m not leaving,” I said, my voice firm despite the turmoil inside. “Not until you come down here and face me.”
“Fine,” he snapped. “I’ll come down—but only to see you off.”
Moments later, he descended the treehouse ladder, his footsteps heavy with frustration. When he reached me, I stepped closer, refusing to let him turn away.
“Mike,” I said softly, looking him straight in the eye. “I love you.”
His gaze faltered for a moment, but his voice came sharp and cold. “There’s no future in this love, Michael.”
“You don’t mean that.”
He turned his back on me, walking briskly toward the house. “I don’t feel anything for you,” he called over his shoulder. “Now go.”
“Then explain the times you kissed me, Mike!” I shouted after him. My voice cracked, but I didn’t care.
“Forget about those!” he retorted without looking back.
“And the way you kissed me back when I kissed you? How do you explain that?”
“Stop it!” he yelled, quickening his pace.
“Mike,” I said, desperation spilling over. “How can I stop when I feel—”
He spun around, his face a mixture of anger and anguish. “Feel what, Michael? That you love me?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I did the only thing I could. I stepped forward and kissed him. It was a kiss filled with longing, hope, and a silent plea for him to let down his walls. But he didn’t kiss me back. Instead, he shoved me away—hard.
I stumbled and fell to the ground, the impact knocking the wind out of me. By the time I looked up, Mike was already storming toward the house. He didn’t even glance back as he slammed the door shut, locking me out of his world.
The pain was unbearable. I stayed on the ground, tears streaming down my face, my sobs echoing in the empty night. The moon watched over me like a silent witness to my heartbreak, its light cold and distant. It felt as if even the heavens pitied me.
I gazed up at the moon, as if pleading for its comfort. “Please,” I whispered, “bring him back to me… just one more time.”
Wiping my tears, I stood and walked out of Mike’s gate, my legs heavy with sorrow. Each step replayed the memories of his touch, his kiss, his embrace. Was this the end? Was there really no hope left?
Reaching the abandoned auto shop across the street, I sank onto an old tire, letting the quietness of the night wash over me. The cicadas sang their mournful symphony, the only sound breaking the stillness. The moonlight bathed the area, illuminating my shattered heart.
Suddenly, a shooting star streaked across the sky. I couldn’t help but smile through my tears. “I don’t need to make a wish,” I murmured. “If Mike is meant for me, then he will be mine. Moon, it’s in your hands now.”
As if in response, the moonlight grew brighter, piercing through the clouds. And then I saw it—a beam of light cutting through the darkness. A flashlight.
I froze, too afraid to look. Footsteps crunched against the gravel, growing closer and closer. Slowly, I tilted my head upward. The moonlight illuminated his face.
“Michael…” His voice was soft, trembling with emotion.
It was Mike.
“Michael…” he said again, stepping closer. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Tears welled up in my eyes once more, but this time, they were mixed with hope.
To be continued…
- Writer
