Everywhere around them, blends of emotions lingered in the air—enthusiasm, nervousness and excitement. The surrounding faces showed diverse feelings in times of anticipation. Some were well-assured, as seen in their confident smiles and stances. Others were uncertain, their eyes tinging with both hope and worry. Meanwhile, others were full of anxiety, fidgeting and trying to get their breath together. Yet amidst this diversity of emotions, one prevailed the most; and that was the eagerness. 

 It was as if everyone wanted to get on with the main event, and the intermission was just testing their patience. Due to this, they found comfort in seeking company. Parents and families offered emotional support to their children, holding their hands and standing by their sides. And conversations flowed restlessly, with people debating their thoughts and predictions.

 Amidst all of the shared anticipation and eagerness, Megan and Melvin stood alone, remaining unwavering and silent. Yet, their demeanor didn’t display any worry, not even excitement. Their expressions showed neutrality, almost like boredom, as if they had no need for anticipation as a whole. Even though today was a special day, both exciting and nerve-wracking to others. In their eyes, it appeared mundane— a day they had long expected and considered something of ordinary.

 “You look bored.” Melvin commented, looking at Megan leaning against the rails, immersed in the view below.

 Megan replied, a low and tired tone. “You know it’s the same every time. And it’s gonna stay that way from now on…” 

 Looking at her eyes, he noticed a dullness creeping in, its lightness fading away...

“Even if you don’t have the passion for arts anymore,

 Please know that… it’s okay.”

 Melvin spoke, his words coming out in a flat, monotone voice. His face like a blank canvas, completely neutral and void of any expression. Although he couldn’t express it well, he aimed to console and assure Megan of his support. And with quiet determination, he reassured his duties as a caring, protective brother.

“What do you mean? It’s not like father will let us do anything else...”  Megan replied. Her face sank in disapproval, though she long accepted the fate of her life. She continued, “We’re descendants of that Leonardo Guevirarana, or whatever his name is.”

 “R-Right.” Melvin cleared his throat, reminding Megan to be careful of her words.

 “Do what you can to please Father,” He advised, “But you don’t have to force passion if it’s not there.”

 Megan raised herself off the rails, focusing on him. “I know what I’m doing, Melvin.” She assured, her voice growing in annoyance towards her brother. Folding her arms, her expression darkened; a sly smirk tinged with shadiness.

 “Everything I’ve ever done… will only be easier once school starts.” 

 “If there’s anything I need…” She pondered, “Of course I could use your help, right?”

 With a sweet smile on her face, Megan extended her hand to him; a moment to mark her enduring reliability and trust in him. 

 “Hmm?” She continued to ensure, raising her hand slightly.

 Melvin looked at his sister with his usual blank face. Though deep down, he found warmth and comfort in her smile and overall happiness. Her self-assurance and belief in herself shone in that very moment, dissolving his inner worries and toiling burdens into dust. Accompanied with her continued willingness to listen and depend on him… everything made him feel as if his brotherly duties had truly paid off.

 “Y-Yes, Megan.” He stuttered out.

 "Hehe..." Megan let out a brief giggle, also finding warmth and comfort in her unbreakable bond with her brother. To her- he was like a sturdy rock in stormy seas, always standing beside her throughout the high and low tides of life. His unwavering support towards her made her feel like she could count on him for anything, knowing he’d never question her decisions.

 She turned away, fleeting away in glee. “Let’s go backstage. It’s getting old staying in seats and pretending to be shocked.”

“After you.” Melvin replied, his gaze following her. 

 Continuing alongside Megan, he suddenly paused in place. He glanced around the area, his eyebrows furrowed while he surveyed each and every person present. His lips slightly parted with a hint of anticipation, searching for a specific figure or detail amongst the crowd’s movement.

 “What’s happening?” He muttered, “Is she late…”

 Confused, he pulled out his phone—

 [August 13, 2016       -        7 P.M.]

 Fiora: Melvin, you’re coming to Guevarra Academy next week, right?

 Melvin: Ah, yes. The Results Ceremony. 

 Melvin: Of course, I will.  

 Fiora: Okay, great! Let’s meet, okay? I’ll be seated with my parents at the auditorium’s 2nd floor. <3

 Fiora: I hope I’ll make it in… I wouldn’t wanna disappoint them! 

 Melvin: Your skills are immaculate. Do not worry.  

 He continued glancing around, pacing through the area in search of Fiora’s familiar figure. Examining every girl around his age, he huffed in disappointment, for none of them matched what he remembered of her. The further he searched, a faint dizziness began to engulf him. His thoughts grew hazy, clouding with fading memories of her… and a creeping unease arose— Why didn’t any of them resemble her? She was meant to be here, he was sure of it… Was she still not around? Why was she not coming to him?

 And more importantly…

 .̷̤͋.̸̞̈́W̷͈̐ḥ̴̄ ȃ̶̢t̷͚͗     ̵̃ͅd̶͕̆i̸̥͑d̵͚͐ ̸̮̾   ś̵̫h̸͙͠e̶̜͋ ̷̡͑   è̴͈  v̸͇͝ḛ̷̂ń̴̹   ̷̦̃l̷̰̽o̶̺̊  o̶̝͆k̶̥̋ ̷̫̋     l̴̠̑ḯ̸͕ k̷̤̐e̸̺͂?̷̝̍

 Memories of Fiora flashed within Melvin’s mind—her smile, her gentle voice, the echoes of her laughter… He remembered their conversations in his sanctuary, fascinated by her intellect and her passion for the arts. He felt a sense of admiration towards her, holding her in high regard for the way she was similar to him.

 However, something felt off—these memories were obscured, shrouded in a dark haze that corrupted the core of her existence. Her voice was muffled and he couldn’t make out her words. Yet, the emotions she conveyed, and her overall existence... felt so palpable, touching the depths of his heart.

 He couldn't deny it anymore, these memories held significance, connecting to a girl who once had a place in his life. Still, as Melvin grappled with confusion, it felt as though she was s̸l̴i̸p p̴i̷n̴g̸ ̴. . .

 a̴w̷a̷y̵  

 ̵f̵r̴o̷m̶ .  .

 r̷ e̵a̸l̶

 i̷t̴y̵.̷  … . 

 A sudden, vivid image flashed in his mind! 

 A tunnel-like room, its pristine-white walls stretching endlessly… 

 A large painting, reeling him in with its fluid motions, the illusions of a perfect reality…

 An… unconscious Fiora… lying on the floor and….

 F̵͓͒͗a̵̼̱͗̉…̵͉͉̽͊ ̵̧̛ṫ̵̺̹h̶̟̾̃e̷̥̼͗r̸̞̦̀.̵̫̤̕.̵̛̥͌ͅ ̵͙͈̓̄?   ?  ?̵͈̤̔

 Melvin lingered on the staircase, his hurried steps coming to a pause. His eyes shaded with profound emptiness, a lifeless void. His dull expression, though already lackluster, was darkening even further. Grief and guilt intertwined, weighing him down upon his shoulders. The weight of these resurfacing memories, of his dear friend’s tragic yet fateful demise, was almost unbearable. It felt as though these emotions were meant to stay hidden, hitting him like a sudden attack from nowhere.

 The crowds around him were already seated, whispering amongst themselves as they awaited the ceremony. However, amidst this quiet commotion, Melvin was entangled in his turbulent thoughts. In his eyes, his surroundings twisted into a storm of hallucinations. Everywhere he turned, her face morphed into each member of the crowd— He tried so hard to keep it that way, unwilling to let her memory fade.

 No… Not yet! PLEASE!

 He begged from the depths of his heart, though he knew well she was already long gone. With every second passing, her image began to warp and dissolve. He strained, forcing his mind to latch onto her. But each attempt to solidify her image only led to further distortion, until finally, her face darkened into nothingness—With only black blurs covering her image entirely.

 …

 A tear raced down Melvin’s cheek, his heart with an unexplainable ache.

 “Huh? What… Why am I crying?”

 He shook his head, dispelling the unknown from within. Scanning his surroundings, he searched for Megan, resuming where he assumed he left off. As he walked towards her whereabouts, he noticed his phone—tightly clenched into his shaking hand, a sign of desperation, though he had no clue why it remained that way.

 Powering it on, he found himself back in his messaging app, but this time…

 The chatlogs were empty, devoid of any conversation. 

 He tapped around for the app’s response, but to no avail— the touchscreen keyboard refused to appear. It seemed as though the application was glitched, he thought so at first, until he tapped the back button.

 The application functioned as intended, with each button responding to every tap. He scanned his recents—Faces of familiar people, group chats for academic purposes… Everything seemed normal. Yet, the further he scanned, something caught his eye…

 The most recent contact—An image with a blacked-out face, without a name attached to it.

 “Oh…”

 At that moment, he realized. Though he recalled no more, he could only speculate what had happened to this person. He gripped his phone once again, clenching in place as feelings of guilt and grief resurfaced once again.

 Overwhelmed, his surroundings began to spin, twisting into a fluid motion—The auditorium; engulfed by a crimson downpour, painting the world into a bloody mess. He stood drenched in the monsoon, yet he remained still. With barely a motion, he stared at his phone... watching it dissolve into a pool of red fluid, melting through his fingers.

 T̵ h̸ e̵ ̸ w̸o̶ r̴l̶d̵ ̸ i̷ s̸ ̴ d̶i̶r̴ t̶ y̸?̴ ̵ I̷t̸ ̵ i̴ s̴ ̷ i̷ n̸d̸ e̸ e̴d̸.̶.̸.̸ ̸ ̸B̷ u̷ t̵ ̶ y̴ o̵ u̷.̵ too.̷.̶ ̵ ̶a̵ r̸ e̵ ̶ n̶ o̴ ̴d̶ i̷f̷ f̷e̷ r̸e̵ n̸t̸.̷