CHAPTER 4: THE DAY YOU WEREN'T THERE

(STEPH P.O.V.)

“Psst! Best friend.”

I called out to Gino, who was walking ahead of me.

We were somewhere along the coast, in a place that wasn't exactly far from civilization but felt far enough from the noise of everyday life. Gino had been driving for a while when he apparently got tired of it and decided to stop by the side of the road.

Luckily, the sea was right in front of us.

“What?” he answered without turning around.

He had a bag slung over one shoulder and an icebox filled with soda in his other hand.

“What do you call this place?” I asked, following him.

“I don't know.”

I stopped walking for a second.

“What do you mean, you don't know?”

“Not every place needs a name you have to know about. What's important is that it's peaceful.” He glanced at me. “And it'll be even more peaceful if you stop asking so many questions.”

“Wow. Such a philosopher.”

“Thank you. I try.”

“That's not a compliment, idiot!”

He only laughed.

When he finally stopped and set our things down on the grass, I spread out the cloth he had tossed at me earlier. He took the food out of his bag and placed the sodas beside it.

I sat down and looked at the sunset.

“It's so beautiful.”

“Obviously.”

I turned to him with a grin.

“As beautiful as me, right?”

Usually, he would have agreed just to annoy me. Sometimes he'd even tell me I was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen, then ruin the moment by saying I was the only person he knew who could look that ridiculous while eating.

But this time, he said nothing.

I looked at him.

He was staring at the horizon, his expression unusually serious.

“Wait a minute.” I leaned closer. “You've been quiet for a while. Is something wrong?”

It wasn't that Gino had to be noisy all the time. It was just that silence didn't suit him. My best friend was usually so ridiculous that being around him felt like living with a walking headache.

Seeing him this quiet made me uneasy.

“Hey, say something.”

He didn't answer.

“What's the problem?” I asked again.

He finally turned to me. He looked straight into my eyes, his expression so serious that I almost regretted asking.

Then he said, “Poop.”

I blinked.

“W-what?”

“I haven't pooped in three days.”

For a moment, I simply stared at him.

Then I grabbed both his cheeks and squeezed them.

“YOU IDIOT! THAT'S YOUR PROBLEM? I THOUGHT SOMETHING TERRIBLE HAD HAPPENED!”

“Fuck! That hurts!”

I let go, laughing so hard my stomach began to hurt.

He rubbed his cheeks and glared at me.

“Do you know how much a doctor costs if I still can't poop? Do you? This isn't a joke! My stomach feels like it's about to explode!”

That only made me laugh harder.

“I'm serious, Steph!”

“I'm sorry!” I wheezed. “You just look so cute when you're suffering.”

“I'm going to leave you here.”

“You wouldn't dare. I'm adorable.”

“You're unbearable.”

“And yet, you love me.”

He rolled his eyes.

We spent the rest of the afternoon eating, drinking soda, and arguing about the most ridiculous things. Eventually, the warmth of the late afternoon and the comfort of having nowhere else to be made us sleepy.

We lay down on the cloth, intending to rest for a little while.

Apparently, a little while turned into several hours.

When I opened my eyes again, the sky had darkened. The sunset was gone, replaced by the quiet darkness of the evening.

I was lying against Gino's arm, my own wrapped around him.

For a moment, I didn't move.

I simply looked at his face.

He looked peaceful when he slept. Without his usual teasing smile and annoying remarks, he seemed almost like a different person.

Almost.

“I'm aware you're crazy about my face, you know.”

I nearly jumped.

His eyes were still closed.

“Are you even asleep?” I muttered.

“No. I was enjoying the silence before you ruined it.”

I smiled and gently brushed my hand over his face.

“Ow!”

I immediately pulled away.

“What? I barely touched you!”

“You have the hands of a criminal.”

“Shut up. Get up. It's already morning.”

He opened one eye and looked at the dark sky.

“Morning? Are you sure you're taking Mass Communication and not a course in nonsense?”

“Fine. It's nighttime, genius. We should go home before my mom starts looking for me. You know she doesn't like it when I disappear without telling her.”

I tried to pull him up.

Instead, he pulled me down.

My back hit the ground, and I let out a yelp.

“FUCK! My back!”

He immediately sat up.

“Sorry! Where does it hurt?”

But before I could answer, he lay down behind me and wrapped his arms around me.

I froze.

He wasn't laughing anymore.

“Gino?”

He didn't respond.

I slowly turned around to face him.

“What's wrong?”

His eyes met mine, but he still said nothing. Then he gently turned me away from him and hugged me again, this time holding me so tightly that I struggled to breathe.

“G-Gino! What the hell? Are you trying to kill me?”

He released me at once.

I took a deep breath, then smacked his arm repeatedly.

“What is wrong with you? First, you act like a depressed philosopher. Then you start talking about poop. Now you're hugging me like you're trying to crush my bones!”

He dodged my hits, laughing.

“Seriously, you're weird,” I grumbled. “Your brain needs to be checked.”

He continued laughing as he began packing our things.

“I was just thinking about something.”

“Something stupid, probably.”

He glanced at me.

“When I grow old and die, I think your face might be the last thing I see.”

I stared at him for a moment.

Then I lifted my chin proudly.

“Wow. I'm honored. You should be grateful my cute face will be the last thing you see before you die.”

He shook his head.

“Unbelievable.”

“You're welcome.”

And just like that, the moment passed.

We returned to our usual teasing, and I didn't ask him what he had really been thinking about.

Maybe I should have.

But back then, I was so used to having Gino beside me that I never imagined there would come a time when his silence would hurt more than his insults.

---

TWO YEARS LATER

Graduation day.

The day I had been looking forward to for years had finally arrived.

I should have been excited. I should have been thinking about my diploma, my future, and all the stories I wanted to write now that college was almost behind me.

Instead, I was waiting for one person to answer my message.

Gino.

He had been busy lately. Ever since he got a stable job as a chef at a small restaurant, it had become increasingly difficult to get hold of him.

He spent most of his day at work and usually returned home around ten in the evening. Sometimes, I had to schedule a conversation with him as if he were some important businessman with a secretary guarding his calendar.

There were times when I even waited for him outside his house, hoping we could talk for a while.

But whenever I got too chatty, he would complain that he was tired.

Sometimes, he'd tell me he had no time for my nonsense and that sleeping was more important than listening to my pointless stories.

I usually laughed it off.

After all, this was Gino Reyes. The same idiot who had been part of my life since kindergarten. The same person who had teased me, annoyed me, and made me laugh when I thought I couldn't laugh anymore.

I had known him for so long that I couldn't imagine my life without him.

So I told myself that nothing had really changed.

He was simply busy.

He was tired.

He would come around eventually.

That was what I kept believing.

Besides, his sharp tongue seemed to work wonders on other girls. Apparently, some people found his attitude charming.

Personally, I thought those girls needed their heads examined.

But that was beside the point.

What mattered was that I had asked him to come to my graduation, and he had promised he would.

I didn't need my parents to be there. They were in Thailand, busy managing our family's businesses, and I understood that they couldn't always leave everything behind for me.

Of course, I wanted them there.

But if I had to choose one person I wanted beside me that day, it would be Gino.

He had been there for almost every important moment of my life. I wanted him to see me graduate, to hear my name called, and to celebrate with me afterward.

I wanted to look at him in the crowd and know that, no matter how much our lives changed, we still had each other.

That was all.

At least, that was what I told myself.

---

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The graduation ceremony began a little later.

Around me, my fellow graduates sat with their parents and guardians. Some were taking pictures, some were fixing their gowns, and others were busy waving at family members who had arrived early to secure good seats.

I checked my phone.

No new messages.

I looked toward the entrance.

Maybe Gino was on his way.

I checked my phone again.

Still nothing.

I tried not to worry. Perhaps he was stuck in traffic. Perhaps something had happened at the restaurant. Perhaps he was just running late, as he sometimes did.

He had promised to come.

I held on to that promise.

As the ceremony continued, the time for my turn approached. I glanced at the entrance one more time, hoping to catch sight of his familiar face.

Nothing.

My chest began to feel heavy.

I was the only one among the people around me without a parent or guardian sitting nearby. I had known that would be the case, but I hadn't expected the empty space beside me to feel so noticeable.

I tried to focus on the ceremony.

Then the master of ceremonies called my name.

“Steph Dela Fuerte, a Mass Communication student and one of the university's top varsity athletes in basketball, volleyball, and badminton.”

I barely heard the rest.

I stood and walked toward the stage, my eyes already stinging.

As I climbed the steps, I scanned the audience.

Gino wasn't there.

I looked again, even though I already knew what I would find.

Still, I searched the crowd, hoping I had somehow missed him.

Maybe he was sitting at the back.

Maybe he had arrived late and was trying to find a seat.

Maybe—

No.

He wasn't there.

I accepted my diploma and awards, forcing a small smile as I shook hands with the faculty members. My hands felt cold, and I could barely keep my expression steady.

I had imagined this moment differently.

In my mind, Gino would be there, grinning like an idiot. He would probably shout something embarrassing when my name was called. After the ceremony, he would tease me about crying, then buy me food and tell me how proud he was of me.

I had even imagined him saying something ridiculous like, Congratulations, best friend. You're finally educated enough to understand how stupid you are.

I would have hit him for that.

I would have laughed.

I would have remembered it for the rest of my life.

Instead, I stood onstage trying not to cry in front of strangers.

“Where are your parents, dear?” one of the professors asked as I reached her.

I didn't know her well, but she looked at me kindly.

That was all it took.

The tears I had been holding back finally slipped down my cheeks.

“It looks like they couldn't make it,” I answered quietly.

The professor pulled me into a warm hug.

“Maybe they're preparing a surprise for you,” she said. “Don't cry, okay? You'll waste all that money you spent on your makeup.”

I let out a small, shaky laugh.

“Thank you, Ma'am.”

She smiled and gently released me.

I wiped my cheeks, nodded, and continued down the stage.

I was grateful for her kindness. I really was.

But even as I returned to my seat, one thought kept repeating in my head.

He promised he would come.

---

The ceremony eventually ended.

People gathered around their families, taking pictures and congratulating one another. The hall filled with laughter, camera flashes, and excited voices.

I stayed for a little while, pretending to check my phone.

Maybe Gino would message me.

Maybe he would apologize and explain what had happened.

Maybe he would say he was on his way.

I unlocked my phone.

Nothing.

I opened our conversation, staring at the last messages we had exchanged.

I wanted to text him. I wanted to ask where he was, why he hadn't come, and whether he had forgotten what day it was.

But I didn't.

I didn't want to beg him to remember something that mattered to me.

So I put my phone away, gathered my things, and went home alone.

On the way, I looked out the window and watched the familiar streets pass by. My diploma rested beside me, its edges peeking out of the folder on my lap.

I had worked hard for it.

I should have been proud.

I was proud, somewhere deep down.

But I had imagined sharing this day with someone who mattered to me, and now I didn't know what to do with all the happiness I had saved for him.

When I finally arrived home, the house was quiet.

No one greeted me at the door.

No one asked how the ceremony went.

There were no flowers, no congratulations, and no surprise waiting for me.

Of course there weren't.

My parents were in Thailand.

And Gino—

I didn't want to think about Gino.

I went straight to my room and changed out of my graduation clothes. Afterward, I opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of alcohol.

If no one else was going to celebrate with me, then I would do it myself.

“Let's celebrate your success, self. Cheers!”

I raised the bottle in a mock toast and took a drink.

It tasted bitter.

Perhaps that was fitting.

I sat down with my guitar, trying to find something to do with the thoughts crowding my mind. My fingers moved over the strings as I began singing Kathang-Isip by Ben&Ben.

The song was about loving someone, holding on to feelings that might never become reality, and trying to wake up from a dream that had begun to hurt.

I knew that feeling too well.

As I sang, memories of Gino kept slipping into my thoughts.

The way he teased me.

The way he made me laugh.

The way he used to show up whenever I needed him.

The promises we had made without thinking too much about them.

I had always believed that no matter how busy we became, no matter how many people entered our lives, we would still find our way back to each other.

Maybe that was the problem.

I had grown so accustomed to having him around that I had never considered the possibility of being left behind.

The song ended, but I kept holding the guitar.

For a while, I sat in silence.

Then the tears came.

I cried harder than I expected, finally allowing myself to feel the loneliness I had been trying to ignore all day.

My parents weren't there.

Gino wasn't there.

The person I had wanted to share my happiness with—the person who had been part of my life for as long as I could remember—hadn't even sent me a message.

Not one.

Not even a simple Congratulations, bestie.

I reached for my phone again, as if checking it one more time might somehow change things.

Nothing.

“Seriously?” I whispered.

I tossed the phone onto my bed and stormed into my room. I shut the door behind me with a loud bang.

“FUCK!”

My voice echoed through the room.

And then I cried again.

I hadn't planned to cry this much. I hadn't even wanted to cry in the first place. But apparently, my tears had decided to ignore their owner's wishes.

They just kept coming.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand.

“Why don't my tears smell like alcohol?” I muttered. “I haven't even had enough water today. Where are all these tears coming from?”

I sniffled.

“I should ask Kuya Kim tomorrow.”

The thought was so ridiculous that I almost laughed.

Almost.

But the smile didn't last.

I sat on the edge of my bed, exhausted from crying and tired of pretending that I was fine.

I had graduated.

I had earned my diploma.

I had reached a milestone I had worked toward for years.

And yet, the one thing I wanted most that day was something I couldn't give myself: the reassurance that I still mattered to the person who had always mattered to me.

I lay down and closed my eyes.

“That's enough,” I whispered to my tears. “Go to sleep. Your cute eyes is tired.”

For once, they seemed to listen.

The room grew quiet.

And eventually, worn out from the long day and all the feelings I could no longer keep inside, I fell asleep.

Tomorrow, I would probably make jokes again.

I would probably tell myself that Gino was just busy, that I was being dramatic, and that everything would return to normal.

I had done it before.

I could do it again.

After all, he was Gino Reyes.

My best friend.

And I still didn't know how to imagine a life in which he wasn't there.