The morning sun slanted through the dusty windows of Room 205, casting long shadows across the classroom's wooden desks. Outside, the campus was eerily quiet
Half-empty.
Some students had already packed up and left, their days done; others were still rushing to finish their clearances, scrambling to fill out forms, and hunting for signatures. The usual hum of chatter was missing today, replaced instead by the soft whir of an electric fan in the corner, struggling to stir the still air.
Ely stood at the back of the room, his sketchpad resting in his hands, though his attention wasn't on the page. He had already filled it with drawings of her.
June, the girl who had always sat near the window, her long black hair falling in soft waves. Today was the last chance he had to speak to her, and the thought of that made his chest tighten, like he was holding his breath and never wanting to exhale.
June was everything Ely wasn't: confident, effortlessly charismatic, and, in his eyes, beautiful beyond measure. She had an air about her, One of intelligence, grace, and quiet strength that drew everyone in, like moths to a flame. She excelled in everything she did, from academics to extracurriculars, balancing her bright smile with a fierce drive that made her untouchable to someone like Ely.
At seventeen, June was the kind of person people gravitated toward without trying. She wasn't overly loud, but her presence filled the room, like the calm before a storm. Ely had always admired her from afar, from the way she greeted everyone with warmth, to the way she'd laugh with her friends, her eyes sparkling like she was privy to a secret only she knew. To him, she seemed like she belonged to a different world, one he could only observe from the edges, never quite able to step inside.
The bell rang, its sharp tone cutting through the quiet, and Ely flinched. It was the signal that the day had begun only for him, it felt like the last day of everything. He could already hear the sound of students' voices flooding the hallways, echoing through the building, but inside Room 205, it felt different. This wasn't just any other day. It wasn't like any of the others where they had laughed about homework or shared stories of their weekend plans.
No, today was the day Ely would finally have to say goodbye.
He opened his sketchpad, its pages soft from use, the paper now worn in some places, the ink from his pens beginning to smudge in others. He ran his fingers over a drawing of her.
June, sitting alone beneath the school's giant acacia tree. She was looking up, the sunlight filtering through the branches, her smile quiet, but her eyes always seemed to carry more than words. He had drawn that moment months ago, the first time he had really seen her, caught in the light of an ordinary school day that had turned extraordinary because of her.
But why now? Why hadn't he spoken to her before?
There had been plenty of opportunities. The times they had worked on group projects together, when their eyes had briefly met during class, when she had walked past him in the hallways. But each time, Ely had hesitated. Fear had gripped him. Fear of rejection. Fear of the uncertainty that came with opening up. He had always convinced himself that maybe she didn't feel the same way, that his quiet existence, sketching in the back of the room was better suited for him than trying to reach out to someone as bright and out of his league as June.
But today... today he realized that it didn't matter anymore. The school year was ending, and the moment to say what he felt was slipping away. If he didn't do it now, he'd carry that regret with him forever. He wasn't ready to leave this chapter of his life behind without at least trying.
The door to Room 205 creaked open, and the sound was enough to snap Ely out of his thoughts. A few students trickled in, their voices rising in an excited jumble as they prepared to finish their clearances. But none of them seemed to notice Ely standing there, alone with his thoughts.
His eyes flicked to the back of the room, where June had always sat. She was leaning against the windowsill now, staring out at the sky, her arms crossed over her chest as if she were lost in her own thoughts. There was something different about her today—something more distant, like she knew this was the end. Maybe it was in the way she didn't smile when someone greeted her, or how her usual confidence seemed to have left her, replaced by something quieter, more fragile.
Ely adjusted his backpack under the desk. The zipper had slid halfway open, revealing the corner of his sketchpad and—just barely—the dull edge of a metallic object beneath it. He blinked, then zipped it shut quickly. Just his cutter. Or maybe more than that. He didn't really know anymore.
He closed his sketchpad, and his hands felt cold against the paper. It wasn't the heat of the room, but the quiet, the anticipation, that made everything feel still, as if the world was waiting for something to happen. For him to say something, for the moment to come.
He had never been good with words. He was better at expressing himself with a pencil in his hand, where the lines came out smoother, more certain than anything he could ever say. But today, his usual quiet escape wouldn't be enough.
Today, the last bell of the day wasn't just a signal to go home. It was the last bell of everything.
And Ely wasn't sure if he was ready to leave it all behind without saying what he needed to say.
The room hummed with the buzz of students scrambling to finish their clearances and pack up their things. Some were joking around, while others were more focused on getting their paperwork sorted. It wasn't just another last day of school—it was the day they were all finally done.
"Guys, Let's finish this already!" Ella shouted, waving her clipboard around, trying to get everyone's attention. "We need to hurry up! My Friends are already waiting for me at the resort! Let's focus now so we can get the hell out of here."
Ely, standing by the window, let out a quiet sigh. The school year was ending, but it didn't feel like the end to him. His eyes wandered around Room 205, where the desks were half-empty, bags and papers scattered all over the place. The atmosphere was filled with the familiar hum of students rushing to get out, but the noise didn't matter to him right now. All he could think about was June.
She was over in the corner, laughing with her friends as they exchanged notes for each other. Ely couldn't take his eyes off her. Her smile, the way she effortlessly brightened the room, she always had that power, and it left him feeling like he could never catch up.
A voice snapped him back to reality. "Ely, we need your help here!" Marco, one of the class officers, waved from the other side of the room, his patience wearing thin. "We haven't finished anything yet"
Ely nodded absently, grabbing a rag and wiping down the window. But his mind was somewhere else—on June, of course. She was still there, in her corner with her friends, their laughter spilling through the room, and Ely found himself stuck in the same familiar spot, unsure of how to approach her.
Every now and then, their eyes would meet—just for a second, just enough to make Ely's heart race—but then she'd turn away, back to the conversation with her friends. Ely's palms grew clammy as he moved around the room, wiping down tables and sweeping the floor, but his mind remained focused on that one simple, yet terrifying, question: How do I tell her?
Ely had known June for a while now. They'd shared classes, exchanged quick smiles, and occasional chats about school projects, but that was it. He had always admired her from afar, never finding the right moment to say what he really wanted. Not even once had he gathered the courage to confess his feelings. Now, with the year winding down, it felt like time was slipping through his fingers, and he was running out of chances.
He caught sight of June again. She was writing something on the chalkboard, her usual grace and beauty making her stand out even more in the chaos of the room. She always seemed like she belonged to a different world—one that Ely could never quite reach. But now, with the last bell of the day approaching, Ely knew he had to make a choice.
"Hey man, you don't have lunch again?" Chad asked, sliding into the seat beside him.
"Eh, I don't feel like eating" Ely muttered.
"My God. You're always so dull lately. Even the teachers are concerned. He said, 'You haven't submitted any works yet"
Ely just shrugged, eyes on the floor. "Just tired, I guess"
"Ely, Hurry up!" Marco called out once again, waving him over to help with the chairs. The group of students was scattering, some already finished with their work, while others were still scrambling to finish last-minute tasks.
Ely swallowed hard, setting the mop down on the floor. He glanced toward June, who was still talking with her friends, oblivious to the internal storm raging inside him. This was it. This was his moment. But his feet felt like lead, and every step toward her felt heavier than the last.
Just then, a sudden burst of laughter echoed from across the room. His friends were calling him over, joking about the way he kept staring at June, teasing him as they always did. "Oy, Ely! 'Don't be a bum, bro!"
The laughter stung more than he'd expected. He had always kept his feelings hidden, even from them, but they knew. They could always tell. The pressure to speak up, to finally confess, was almost unbearable. The day was slipping away, and Ely's heart pounded in his chest. If he didn't do something now, if he didn't say something, he might never have another chance.
Ely sat on the edge of the bench, poking at his lunch with a spoon, clearly not eating. His friends—RJ, Paolo, and Migs—were huddled around him like a coaching staff before the last quarter of a finals match.
"Here it comes" RJ whispered, nudging Paolo. "He stopped eating his food. It's clear. He's making some moves."
"Uy, it's June oh!" Migs said, pointing discreetly with his lips as June walked across the courtyard with her friends. "You need some help or you want us to bring the flowers now?"
Ely groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "'Don't tease me"
"Bro," Paolo interrupted, gripping Ely's shoulders like a coach. "Listen to me. This is it. Fourth quarter. Down by one. No timeouts left. You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take."
"Wayne Gretzky," RJ added dramatically.
"Michael Jordan!" Paolo corrected.
"Kobe!!!" Migs chimed in, laughing.
Ely looked at all of them, deadpan. "You guys talk too damn much."
"No, for real" RJ said, suddenly calm. "You've been into her since second quarter ng school year. You spend the whole year drawing portraits of her on your sketchpad. Time to go main character mode."
"Yeah," Paolo added. "This is your arc. Confession on the last day of class? Classic. Do it now before you become a side character forever."
Ely let out a nervous laugh. "and if she rejects me?"
"Eh least there's character development," Migs said with a grin.
RJ raised his fist. "We believe in you, bro. Just don't stutter. Or trip in front of her. Or—"
"Alright, Alright!" Ely stood, cheeks red, but a smile playing on his lips.
"YES, BABY!" Paolo cheered like a fanboy. "LET'S GOOOO!"
The boys threw their arms around him like he had just hit the game-winning shot, laughing as they pushed him gently in June's direction.
"Hoy, Don't push me—"
"CONFIDENCE! POSTURE!" RJ shouted. "You're Rico Yan now!"
As Ely walked away, still shaking his head but smiling, his friends stayed behind, watching proudly like coaches watching their MVP head to the free throw line.
The afternoon dragged on, but for Ely, it felt like time was slipping away too quickly. Every minute felt like another chance passing him by. The classroom buzzed with activity, students scrambling to finish clearances and cleaning tasks. Yet, amidst all the chaos, Ely found it hard to focus on anything other than June.
She was laughing with her friends, her voice light and carefree, as if the weight of the day didn't press on her like it did on him. Ely watched her from across the room, his thoughts tangled with the same question: Why had he waited so long? He had a whole year to talk to her, to tell her what he was feeling, but now, with the last day of school upon them, it felt like the moment was slipping through his fingers.
His friends kept nudging him, teasing him as they worked.
Ely forced a smile, but the teasing only made the tight knot in his stomach twist further. He knew they were right. Everyone could see it—his feelings for June were obvious. But he'd kept them locked away, buried deep inside, too afraid to make a move. Now, with the clock ticking down, he felt the weight of every unspoken word.
Ely shifted uncomfortably, his hand tightening on the rag he was holding. "Nothing... it's nothing," he muttered, but the words didn't feel like enough. They were all he'd been saying for months-nothing.
Always nothing.
He glanced over at June again, and this time, their eyes met. Just for a second. It was brief, almost unnoticed by her, but to Ely, it felt like everything. His heart raced. He wanted to say something, anything, but the moment passed as quickly as it came. She turned back to her friends, smiling at something they said, completely unaware of how much that fleeting look had meant to him.
Ely exhaled slowly. Every day had been like this almost moments. He would get close, but never close enough. Today, the last day, felt like his last chance to say something.
His hand shook slightly as he continued cleaning, the familiar motion of wiping down desks now a distraction. Why was he so afraid? What was stopping him from just speaking up? The thoughts spun in circles, each one more suffocating than the last. His friends' teasing, June's laughter, the ticking clock, all of it was a reminder that he was running out of time.
The teasing continued, louder now, as his friends exchanged knowing glances. But they didn't understand. Ely wasn't just shy.
He was terrified. Terrified of ruining the friendship they had, terrified of the awkwardness that might follow. But what if it was worse to leave with nothing, to never know what could have been?
For a moment, Ely stood still, caught between the past and the future. What if he never had this chance again? What if he let this moment slip by, just like all the others?
His eyes landed on the corner of the room where June was still standing, her laughter mingling with the rest of her friends' voices. For a brief moment, everything else faded into the background, leaving only June and the feeling that he had to do something. Now.
His heart pounded in his chest, but he knew what he had to do.
Ely's gaze fixed on June, his heart hammering in his chest. She was laughing at something her friend, Mika, said. Her face lit up with that smile he always found so magnetic, and his chest tightened in response. She was so effortlessly beautiful, with the kind of charm that made people gravitate toward her. The way she tilted her head when she laughed, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners it all made Ely's throat dry, his thoughts tangled.
He had spent so many months watching her, observing how she could light up a room without even trying. June was everything Ely wasn't: confident, sure of herself, with a natural grace that made everything seem easy. And yet, somehow, he'd always felt invisible to her, a mere observer of her life. But now, with the last day stretching out before them like a canvas waiting to be painted, Ely couldn't let that feeling define him anymore. He couldn't let the opportunity slip by.
The noise around him faded as he made his decision. He set down the rag and took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his own hesitation pressing down on him. His hand reached into his bag for his sketchpad, the familiar weight of it grounding him. It had always been his way of expressing himself, his silent language to the world. But today, he knew words would be the only way to say what he'd kept inside for so long.
As he walked toward her, his legs felt like lead. Every step felt heavy, yet at the same time, a rush of adrenaline pushed him forward. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, louder than the chatter of the room, louder than the laughter that filled the air. This was it. There were no more excuses, no more waiting. If he didn't do it now, he never would. And that thought made his stomach churn with regret.
When he finally stood beside her, June looked up in surprise. "Ely?" Her voice was soft, her brow furrowed slightly, a mix of curiosity and concern in her eyes. She had always been kind to him, but this moment was different. He wasn't just Ely, the quiet artist anymore. He was Ely, the one who had something important to say.
As Ely stood beside June, his heart hammering in his chest, he thought that nothing could stop him now. He was ready. He had to say what he needed to say. But just as the words began to form on his lips, he caught movement in the corner of his eye.
Kurt.
The guy was leaning casually against the doorframe of the classroom, his arms crossed with that confident, almost cocky smile he always wore. Marco had been in their class since freshman year, and although he was never as quiet or reserved as Ely, he shared a bond with June, too. Ely had always been aware of Marco's charm, but today, it felt like a punch to the gut.
"HEY JUNE! You busy later?" Marco called out, his voice loud and friendly, as if there were no other people in the room. "You wanna hangout with us and go to the mall later?"
Ely's stomach dropped, the sudden attention shifted to Marco like a spotlight. He watched as June laughed, the sound of it light and melodic. Ely had always known Marco liked June. It wasn't a secret, not to anyone in their grade. But seeing them interact like this, so effortlessly, so naturally—made Ely's heart sink deeper.
"I don't know yet," June said with a shrug, still smiling. "I'll an update you."
The words stung in a way Ely hadn't expected. June wasn't just being polite; there was something else there, something Ely hadn't been able to put into words. He wasn't stupid. He knew June had her own relationships, her own connections. But Marco had always been there—bold, confident, unafraid to take up space. Ely, on the other hand, had stayed in the background, too afraid to speak up until it was almost too late.
Ely's hand tightened on the sketchpad, his fingers trembling slightly. He wanted to speak, to call out to June, to tell her how he felt. But Marco was always there, always pulling her attention away from him. Ely felt small in comparison, his self-doubt creeping back in like an old friend. What chance did he have against someone like Marco? Someone who could say the right thing, make the right joke, and always have people laughing along?
Ely's heart sank. He watched as Marco leaned closer to June, his hand brushing her shoulder in a playful way that made Ely's chest tighten. They shared a brief, intimate moment that Ely couldn't ignore. The way they spoke to each other—it wasn't just casual conversation. It was something more. Something Ely didn't have with her.
"Okay, okay! I'll think about it," June said with a laugh.
Marco waved his hand as if dismissing the topic, his smirk never leaving his face. "Alright, just let me know ha." Then, with that same cocky confidence, he turned to walk out the door, throwing a final look at June over his shoulder before leaving the room.
June smiled back, but her smile was different. It lingered longer on her face than Ely had hoped for. Then, just like that, Marco was gone.
The classroom felt suddenly quieter, as if Ely had missed something important. The room, which had once been alive with chatter, now felt heavy with the weight of his thoughts.
Ely didn't know how long he stood there staring at the door, but it felt like forever. His fingers tightened around the sketchpad again, but this time, his grip was not out of excitement. It was out of frustration. It felt like the world was conspiring to stop him from speaking. Maybe it wasn't just Marco—maybe it was all the things he had never said. All the things he had kept to himself. All the times he hesitated, and now, here he was—on the last day—still afraid to speak his truth.
All year, he had filled page after page with sketches of things he was too afraid to say. June laughed. June near the window. June turning just slightly toward him. But lately... the drawings had changed. Fewer lines. More shadows. One page he kept folded, never showing anyone. A hand holding something sharp. He didn't know whose it was.
When he finally gathered the courage to look at June again, she was smiling, her eyes already on him.
"Ely?," she said, a soft concern in her voice. "You got something to say?"
Ely froze. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't even remember what he had planned to say. The words seemed to evaporate. All that was left was the distance between them. The unspoken. And he didn't know how to bridge that gap.
"Ah..." Ely mumbled, trying to find the right words. But nothing came out. The teasing from his friends, the laughter, Marco's easy charm—it all piled on top of him. He couldn't say it now. It felt too late.
"Nothing much, haha" he replied with a forced smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. His voice felt weak, and the smile he gave her was nothing but a mask.
June blinked at him, clearly puzzled, but she didn't push further. "Okay," she said, her tone light, though there was a flicker of concern in her eyes. "Well, if you need anything, I'm here."
Her words were kind, but they didn't change the truth. Ely had lost his chance, and Marco's presence had only reminded him of everything he wasn't. Ely felt small in that moment, his heart heavier than the last moments of the day.
He watched as June walked back to her friends, the weight of his missed opportunity sinking deeper in his chest. And just like that, the moment was gone. The last chance he thought he had slipped away, unnoticed by her, but never to be forgotten by him.
Ely didn't move for a while, standing there with his fingers still wrapped tightly around the sketchpad. The room was buzzing again, the chatter of his classmates picking up as they worked on their final tasks for the day. But for Ely, the world outside that moment felt far away. He could hear the laughter, the teasing, the sound of brooms sweeping the floor and chairs scraping against the tile. But all of it sounded muffled, as though he were underwater.
His eyes kept drifting back to June, but now it wasn't just Marco he had to compete with. It was everything—his fear, his doubts, and the uncertainty of what came after he spoke up. The pressure of the day was starting to suffocate him. It wasn't just the last day of school. It was the last chance to say something that had been building in him for months. But he wasn't sure he was ready for what would happen once the words left his mouth. He had built it up so much in his mind that the reality of it all seemed too big to face.
Minutes turned into what felt like hours as Ely absentmindedly wiped down the desk in front of him. He watched June as she joked with her friends, her laughter floating over the noise of the room like a melody. She seemed so at ease, so sure of herself, while Ely remained frozen in place. He felt like an outsider to his own feelings. His own insecurities kept getting in the way, making him second-guess everything.
But then, there was a shift.
One of the other students, a classmate named Ivan, walked by, his eyes flicking toward Ely for just a moment before he turned to greet June. Ivan was part of their circle, not exactly close, but he'd known June for a while. Ely had always seen the way Ivan looked at her—the same quiet admiration he'd carried for months. Ivan had never been as bold as Marco, but Ely couldn't ignore the way June seemed to brighten whenever Ivan was around.
It stung more than Ely expected.
"Hey, June," Ivan greeted her with a smile, his voice smooth but not overly familiar. "You okay there? I saw you talking to Marco earlier. What's up?"
June gave Ivan a quick nod. "Yeah, okay lang. Just talking about plans today."
"Ahh. I see," Ivan said, his eyes lingering on her. "Well, I guess I'll see you around, ha?"
"Sure, see you later, Ivan," she said, waving him off as he walked away.
Ely watched their exchange, the quiet tension in his chest tightening. He had never noticed how much Ivan seemed to hang around, how often he would hover just around the edges of June's presence. It was subtle, but it was there.
Ely looked down at his hands, which were now shaking again. It was too much. The thought of fighting for June's attention against Ivan, Marco, and everyone else who was so comfortable in their own skin—it felt like a battle he didn't know how to fight. June wasn't like him. She was warm, outgoing, and people flocked to her. She had options. She had all the time in the world to figure out who she wanted. Ely, on the other hand, felt like he was out of time.
His friends' voices brought him back to the present. They were still goading him, their teasing ringing in his ears. But it wasn't the same anymore. The words didn't hold the same weight. They weren't the ones Ely had to convince.
It was himself.
He turned his gaze to June one last time, hoping—just hoping—that somehow, she'd look at him again. Maybe this time, the way he felt would show on his face. But June was talking with her friends, her back to him. She didn't see the struggle on his face. She didn't see the way he was torn apart by everything he hadn't said.
The classroom was quieter now. The other students were finishing their tasks, and the bell was coming soon. The reality of it hit him—the school year was almost over. He would never see some of these people again, and June would likely be one of them. He didn't know where she was going after this, but he knew it would be far from here.
This wasn't just about confessing his feelings anymore. This was about letting go. Letting go of the "what-ifs" and the "maybe next time." Because next time was never guaranteed. It was now or never.
Ely straightened up, his hands still trembling, but his heart pounding louder than his fears. He couldn't let this moment slip away. Not again. He had spent too much time wondering what could have been and not enough time actually doing something about it.
The bell rang just as he started to step forward, the sharp chime echoing through the room. It was the signal that everything was about to end—the year, the school day, and whatever was left of his chances.
He looked at June once more, her eyes catching his from across the room. This time, she smiled, the smile soft, warm, but fleeting. Ely felt it—the weight of everything he had been holding in. He couldn't let this be the last time he saw her like this.
"June!" Ely's voice cracked in the quiet hum of the classroom.
She looked up in surprise, her brows furrowing slightly, but her eyes were curious. "Ely?" she said, her voice light, yet there was something else there, a glimmer of hope, maybe? Ely couldn't tell.
He swallowed hard, the words he'd been rehearsing in his mind slipping away in the rush of emotion.
"June, can we talk? Before everyone leaves?" His voice was firm, but his heart thudded painfully in his chest.
For a moment, everything seemed to stop. Her friends were still chatting, but it was as if the world around them had faded away. June stared at him for a long, suspended moment, and Ely's stomach churned. Had he ruined it? Had he waited too long?
Then, slowly, she nodded.
"Okay," she said, her voice gentle but steady. "Let's talk."
And for the first time in what felt like forever, Ely finally felt like he could breathe.
June stepped away from her friends, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she made her way toward Ely. Her eyes searched his face, curious but calm, like she was giving him the space to speak but wasn't going to push.
Ely's throat tightened. He wanted to say everything—right now. But his mind scrambled to line up the words, to find a version of the truth that didn't make him sound foolish or desperate. This was it. The moment he had played out in his head so many times. And now that it was real, it didn't feel anything like he imagined.
"So, what do you want to talk about?" June asked softly.
"Uh..." Ely swallowed. "wait... I just wanted you to know that—"
But then—
"Ely!" someone called out from the hallway.
It was Sir Rene, their class adviser, poking his head into the room. "Um, Can you please show me the attendance folder. You have the last copy, right? We need it at the faculty."
Ely blinked, the moment snapping like a string pulled too tight. He turned to the teacher with a forced nod. "Yes, Sir. just wait a minute."
June gave a small chuckle, the tension in her shoulders easing. "Looks like someone is still looking for you till the end" she teased, her tone light.
Ely wanted to laugh, but it came out as a shaky breath. "Just wait here, ha? I'll be back."
She nodded. "Ok. I'll be waiting here."
Ely moved fast, nearly stumbling out of the room, his sketchpad still clutched tightly in one hand. He handed over the folder, answered a quick question from another teacher, then turned on his heel to go back—back to her.
But when he stepped back into the room...
It was already half-empty.
The energy had shifted again. A few chairs had been stacked, someone was closing the windows, and June—June wasn't where he left her.
His chest tightened.
He scanned the room, heart in his throat. Then he saw her—by the door, bag slung over her shoulder, already talking to someone. It was Ivan.
Ivan stood casually beside her, one hand on the doorframe, the other casually gesturing as he spoke. June wasn't laughing, but she was listening. And worse, she hadn't noticed Ely had returned.
For a moment, Ely stood frozen near the back of the room. The sketchpad in his hand suddenly felt heavier than ever. It wasn't just about timing now. It was about interrupting. About getting in the way.
About being too late.
The door was open. The world outside the classroom was waiting. And if he didn't act now, that door—his chance—might just close for good.
Ely stood there for a beat too long. Ivan's voice was low but clear enough to make out a few words—small talk, something about their barkada's beach trip, then a joke that made June smile. Not laugh, but smile. And for Ely, that was enough to sting.
He hated this part of himself—the way he froze when things mattered most. The way he let silence fill in for courage. He had spent the whole year drawing pictures of moments he never had the guts to live. But he couldn't let it end like this.
No more "what-ifs." No more letting people like Ivan speak first.
He stepped forward.
"Ivan," Ely said, voice steadier than he expected, "pwede ba... sandali lang si June?"
Ivan blinked, surprised. "Ah, sure." He looked at June, then back at Ely. "All yours."
He gave a friendly nod—nothing mocking, just genuine—and walked off, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.
June turned to Ely again, that curious look returning. "You ok?"
Ely nodded, but his heart was thundering. "Sorry. There had been so many distractions and interruptions," he said with a shaky laugh. "but it's true. I don't have anything else to say but this."
June tilted her head slightly.
She didn't speak, just waited, giving him space.
Ely clenched the sketchpad against his chest, almost like a shield. "I know, it's probably too late for this and I know that this may be futile but, this whole year, I've been admiring you and this isn't creepy ha," he said quickly, and June let out a soft laugh, "But this is the truth."
"I like you, June."
The words hit the air like thunder in a quiet room. Simple. Plain. Honest.
"I've liked you for a long time," Ely continued. "but I always think to myself that 'Why would I need to say it? What is the use? You have so many friends, so many friends and I'm just here... just draw and draw and hide."
He opened the sketchpad slowly and turned it to her. On the page was a sketch of the classroom—Room 205—but not just the room. It was her. June, standing by the window, sunlight casting across her hair. The sketch was raw, unfinished, but full of care.
June's eyes softened as she took it in.
"I just didn't want to leave without you knowing this. I know that you may not reciprocate the same feelings as I do but I'm just letting you how I feel."
The hallway was almost silent now. Most students had gone. The wind stirred the curtains near the window.
June didn't say anything right away. Her hand brushed against the edge of the paper, gently. Her expression was unreadable, but not cold.
Then, quietly, she asked, "Why now?"
Ely's throat tightened. "Because I was scared of losing you."
Silence hung between them—thick, but not heavy. And in that pause, June stepped closer.
"I wish you told me sooner," she said, voice soft. "But... I'm glad you did."
Ely couldn't move. He didn't know what this meant—if she felt the same, or if she was just being kind. But for the first time in months, the storm inside him began to quiet.
"is it okay if I take this with me?" June asked, holding up the sketchpad.
Ely smiled, eyes stinging. "'that's my plan."
They stood there a little longer, both quiet. And when the final bell echoed faintly from the far end of the hallway, neither of them moved to leave just yet.
Because sometimes, just being heard was enough
The smile she gave him in return—so genuine, so real—felt like a promise, even if he didn't fully understand it. Neither of them moved. The stillness in Room 205 was perfect, the kind of stillness that only happens when two people share something deeply human.
Then, everything started to blur.
The ringing of the final bell, which had faded in the background, grew louder. The walls around him shifted, the sunlight from the window dimming as the sounds from the hallway grew muffled. Ely felt a sudden tightness in his chest, an inexplicable pull that forced him to blink rapidly. He didn't know why, but something felt wrong. Something felt... out of place.
He rubbed his eyes, confused, and when he opened them again—
He was no longer in Room 205.
The sunlight was gone, the sketchpad was gone, and June was no longer standing in front of him. His heart pounded, a cold sweat prickling along the back of his neck.
The classroom he had been standing in was suddenly empty, the desk he had sat at earlier in the day now just a distant memory. The door was closed, the hallway silent.
Ely's breath caught in his throat. His stomach churned, a deep sense of dread washing over him. He looked around frantically, but all he saw was the sterile, lifeless classroom—a room he recognized. It was the same room where he had woken up earlier that morning, feeling the pressure of time bearing down on him, the weight of another school day.
He stood up, his legs shaky. The world outside was still waiting, but the moment that had felt so real only moments ago now felt like a fading dream.
The door to the classroom opened, and the world outside came rushing back—only this time, it was too familiar. It was the same hallway, the same chatter of students, the same sounds of shoes tapping against the floor. Ely blinked again, the sense of déjà vu making him dizzy.
And then he saw her—June.
She was there, talking to Ivan again. The same scene, playing out like a broken record. June's smile, her laughter, the way Ivan's voice filled the air, drowning out all of Ely's thoughts. His heart began to race again, but this time, it was different. This time, it wasn't the calm certainty of confession. It was a heavy, gnawing feeling, the sting of failure creeping up in his chest.
He couldn't be sure if it was all real. The conversation with June, the shared silence, the way he had poured his heart out—it felt so real. But now, it felt like it had all been an illusion, a wishful thought, a world he created inside his own mind to escape the reality of who he was. The boy too afraid to speak up. The artist who kept his feelings hidden behind sketches.
Ely stepped into the hallway. The moment was already slipping away, his chance with June already dissipating. His legs moved, but his mind was a swirl of confusion. He wanted to stop them, to change the course of the moment, to take a different path. But the same routine seemed to take hold, as if there was no escaping it.
The door opened. The world outside was still waiting.
Ely woke up with a start. His eyes flew open, and for a moment, his chest heaved as if he had been running, though his body had never moved.
The classroom was quiet. The sunlight filtered through the window, casting long, golden beams on the floor.
It was just like the morning. Just like when he had woken up earlier, staring at the chalkboard, feeling the weight of the world bearing down on him.
But then, he remembered.
He had dreamt it all. The confession, the smile, the hope. All of it was just a figment of his imagination, a desperate wish he had held onto too tightly. The reality was the same. The door was still open, and June was out there, the world still just beyond his reach.
He felt a pang in his chest. The moment, his chance, was still there. He could still make a choice. But for how long?
The bell rang. The hallway outside filled with noise. The world was waiting for him, just as it had before.
Ely stood up. The door was open.
This time, he would act.
The final chance was here. Would it be enough?
The door was open again. The same world outside, waiting. Ely stood at the same spot, his fingers gripped tightly around the same sketchpad. The hum of the classroom buzzed in his ears, the faint laughter, the clinking of bags, the shuffle of shoes on tile—it all felt like a distant memory. He had already lived this, hadn't he?
It was the same moment, the same setting, the same hesitation.
But this time, it felt different.
This time, he knew exactly what would happen. Or so he thought.
Ivan's voice rang in his ears as he made the same small talk, his words an echo from the dream. Ely's breath hitched in his chest when Ivan turned toward him.
"Ivan," Ely said, his voice oddly familiar, like he had said these words before.
Ivan blinked, a moment of hesitation before he gave Ely the same casual nod. "Ah, oo naman." His eyes shifted to June, then back at Ely, an unreadable expression crossing his face. "All yours."
Ely stepped forward, his pulse hammering. He turned to June.
She looked at him again, just like before, that same curious look. "are you ok?"
But now, the words felt heavier, the air more suffocating. Ely's heart raced as he stared at her. The world outside the classroom still waited, but the door was closing, inch by inch, and his chance was slipping away.
He opened his mouth, but this time the words didn't feel as sure.
"Sorry. There had been so many distractions and interruptions," he said with a shaky laugh. "but it's true. I don't have anything else to say but this."
June didn't tilt her head this time. She just stared at him, and in her eyes, there was something different. Something Ely couldn't place, and it twisted in his gut.
Ely's hands trembled as he held the sketchpad to his chest."I know, it's probably too late for this and I know that this may be futile but, this whole year, I've been admiring you and this isn't creepy ha," he said quickly, and June let out a soft laugh, "But this is the truth."
June's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, the slightest flicker of something different.
"I like you, June."
The words landed on the air, but they didn't echo. No thunder. No relief.
Ely's pulse thrummed in his ears, but June was silent, staring at him as though the confession was a puzzle she couldn't solve. She didn't laugh. She didn't smile. She just... looked at him.
"I've liked you for a long time," Ely continued. "but I always think to myself that 'Why would I need to say it? What is the use? You have so many friends, so many friends and I'm just here... just draw and draw and hide."
He flipped open the sketchpad again, showing her the same image—the same sketch of her standing by the window, bathed in sunlight. But this time, it didn't feel like an offering. It felt like a futile attempt to prove something that was never real. He waited for her to speak, but she only reached out and touched the edge of the paper, her fingers brushing against it with no real warmth.
"I just didn't want to leave without you knowing this. I know that you may not reciprocate the same feelings as I do but I'm just letting you how I feel."
The silence stretched. It wasn't thick this time—it was cold. Ely's heart twisted painfully in his chest as the words he had rehearsed so many times began to lose their meaning.
Then, June's gaze shifted, her eyes though soft and understanding, but distant. Detached.
"Why now?" she asked, Her tone was gentle
Ely's breath caught. He swallowed hard, his throat tight. He had expected something—anything—different. "Because I'm scared of losing you."
June looked down at the sketchpad, her fingers brushing the edge of the page. She didn't speak right away.
Then softly, almost like she didn't want to hurt him, she said:
"Ely... your works are beautiful and so impressive. but..."
"I didn't know you felt that way. I mean... we never really talked, 'right? We never really interacted that much."
Her voice wasn't sharp. There was no cruelty in her tone, just a kind of soft confusion. Ely felt his heart slow down, like time was pulling taut.
"You seem nice. And quiet. And I always wondered if your ok, because you always felt... distant."
She offered a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Pero I don't think I ever saw you... like that."
The words hit him in a way no insult could have. Not because they were harsh—but because they were honest. He wasn't rejected by a villain. He was dismissed by someone who simply didn't know the version of herself he'd built in his head.
She took a small step forward, holding the sketchpad out. She wasn't avoiding him—just returning something that had never really belonged to her.
"I hope that your ok after and... thank you. For telling me."
Her hand lingered for a second longer, then let go. And like that, she was gone—off to join her friends, who didn't even ask what had happened.
Ely stood there.
For a while.
The hallway was emptying fast. Light pooled through the windows in long streaks across the floor, and he felt small in that golden wash—like a ghost who never got to say his piece.
He walked.
His feet moved on their own, out the school gates, across streets, past people, noise, the low dim of city life winding down into the late afternoon.
He didn't feel real.
Not after that.
Not after realizing he had spent the whole year loving an idea of someone. A quiet girl at the window. A girl who smiled at the wind. A girl who said hi once and etched herself into his ribs like a memory worth sculpting.
But that girl was his.
It was not real.
The real June had other friends. A whole world. A rhythm he never got to enter.
And it was never her fault.
It was his.
Ely turned, the weight of the confession pressing down on him like a stone in his chest. He didn't know what to do with his hands, with his heart, with the pieces of himself that had been shattered.
As he walked out the door, he realized: the version of June he had fallen for, the one he had hoped would be there for him, never existed. It was only his mind, spinning a story he wanted to believe. And now, that story was over.
But as the door closed behind him, he couldn't help but feel the bitter sting of the truth—the truth he had refused to see.
June wasn't his. She never was.
Ely's feet were moving, but his mind was still back in Room 205, replaying the moment of rejection. June's face had twisted into something unrecognizable, her indifference cutting deeper than he expected. Her words were simple, blunt, and final. "I don't feel the same way." But it wasn't just that. It was everything. The illusion he had built, the pedestal he had placed her on—now that it was shattered, everything felt hollow. There was nothing left.
He didn't want to be here anymore.
The wind whipped through his hair as he walked aimlessly down the street, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his gaze empty. The world continued around him, people talking, laughing, living—he felt so distant from it all, like he was walking in a dream that was slowly crumbling.
He stopped in front of San Francisco Church at the end of the block, staring at the stone steps. The church had always been a place of solace, but now it felt like a cold, indifferent monument to everything he had failed to understand. He had been holding on to something—some hope that June might change, that she might become the girl he had created in his mind. But that girl didn't exist. She never had.
The truth had hit him like a freight train.
Ely stepped up onto the steps, the air around him growing colder with every step. His thoughts were scattered, his chest tight, and the pain gnawing at him felt unbearable. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to make the world feel what he felt. But all he could do was stand there, a shadow in the fading daylight.
He glanced back toward the street. The sounds of the world seemed muffled, distant, like they were no longer part of his reality. He felt detached, as though he was drifting farther away with each passing second.
Maybe he didn't belong here. Maybe he never had.
His hand brushed against his pocket, and he felt the weight of something cold and heavy inside. It was a reminder—one he had been carrying with him all day. Ely had always kept a knife in his bag. He wasn't sure why, but it had become a comfort in the dark times. A reminder that, if things ever got too overwhelming, there was a way out. A way to end it all.
He took the knife out now, holding it in his hand. It gleamed in the fading light, an edge that seemed to mirror the sharpness of his thoughts. It was strange—how something so small could carry so much weight. He had never actually thought about using it, never really believed he would need it. But now... now everything felt like it was slipping through his fingers.
He thought of June again, her face, her smile. The version of her he had kept locked away in his heart. The girl he had loved from afar, the girl who had never been real. He had built her up so high, convinced himself that if he could just say the right words, she would understand. But it was all a lie. A story he told himself because he couldn't bear the emptiness of the truth.
His hand tightened around the knife. It was cold against his skin, almost comforting in its finality. Ely felt the world around him fading, becoming less real with each passing moment.
Maybe it was easier this way. Easier to end it all. Easier to stop the pain that had festered inside him for so long. Maybe it would finally make sense. Maybe everything would finally be quiet.
But as he stood there, the weight of the knife heavy in his hand, something shifted inside him. He didn't know where the thought came from, but it stopped him, just for a moment. There was a memory, faint but real—his sketchbook, his art, the comfort of creating something out of nothing. It was the only thing that had ever truly mattered to him. His art was the one thing that made him feel alive, even when the world felt so numb.
For just a second, the image of June faded, and he saw his sketchbook instead. The drawings, the characters, the stories he had built for himself. He had always found a way to pour his feelings into his art, to make sense of the chaos in his head. And now, as he stood there on the church steps, that same chaos felt like it was swallowing him whole.
His fingers trembled as they gripped the knife. He didn't know if he could go through with it. Didn't know if he wanted to. But as the last of the light faded from the sky, Ely felt something within him snap.
Maybe it was easier this way. Easier to end the ache that stretched endlessly inside him. Easier to let the silence take over.
But just as the darkness began to close in, a flicker of something broke through. A memory—faint, but warm. Fingers stained with graphite. The smell of old paper. The quiet scratch of pencil on a blank page. His sketchbook.
It came back to him like a pulse. The one place where he had always felt alive, even when everything else was falling apart. The stories he hadn't finished. The characters waiting for him.
Ely closed his eyes.
And then—
A gust of wind tore down the street, sending the last page of his sketchbook fluttering into the night. A siren wailed in the distance. A bell rang from inside the church. Somewhere, a dog barked. A door slammed shut.
When morning came, Room 205 was empty.
But a sketchbook remained on the church steps, its last page missing.
No one ever said what happened next.
Some say he walked away.
Some say he didn't.
Only the wind knows for sure.