A month has passed. A whole month of Yani forgetting what freedom was like.

Yani’s vacant schedule for the day spanned a sum of three long hours. Hence, in order to mitigate his possible boredom, he went to the library. The sixth floor of the establishment caters primarily to Law students. However, due to it being the afternoon and their classes beginning at night, the area was empty and dim. But to Yani’s luck, the airconditioning system was put on max—giving him a comfortable spot.

At the very far back of the place lies a sleeping area with two platforms wide enough for students to simultaneously rest. On it were hard foam materials suitable enough, but not necessarily comfortable to use as a pillow. Nonetheless, he hopped on the top platform and placed one underneath his head—letting his uniform wrinkle up as he relaxed his body.

He took his phone and put on the Netflix application—scrolling through his feed that’s composed of gore, violence, and action. Upon his search, a documentary that he has been subscribing to popped up and was shown to have released a new episode. In bold fonts, the title was “Files of the Unexplained.” It was a collection of different stories relating to unexplained occurrences trapped in the mortal world. Even though Yani himself practices such occurrences and knows its explanation thereof, he still finds joy in discovering new mysteries that he himself can not place a meaning to.

Fifteen minutes into watching his beloved documentary, he felt another weight hopping on to the platform. Before he could move his head to check on it, his phone had already flown mid-air. Well, more like  someone brought the phone up there. “Hey!” He exclaimed while trying to reach for it like a baby gawking at a crib mobile. When his eyes moved in the direction of the person who stole his phone, he was met with none other than a pristine looking boy with long locs, and glimmering eyes. But in contrast to that man’s gentle features bore an arrogant expression that could make you feel on your lowest of lows.

“Do you always waste your vacant hours like this?” Kris asked while looking down on Yani. 

“Come on, give it back. What else am I supposed to do?”

“Study, do your homework, and more.”

“I can do that at home. Hence, homework.” Yani chimed, pointing a finger up in the air as though he proved a very important point.

“And this is why you’re a mediocre student.” Kris sat beside Yani who was now sitting upright too. Yani clicked his tongue at Kris’s snarky remark and took his phone back with force.

“At least I don’t fail. That’s good enough.”

“And your threes and twos are exactly why you’re no good.”

Yani sighed, knowing exactly what Kris having him besieged by his presence meant. Kris needed something from him. Or more like… Kris demands something from him. 

“What do you need, master?” Yani spoke with sarcasm prevalent.

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“What may I ever serve you, oh so mighty master?” Yani responded with a very bright and enthusiastic tone.

Kris wanted to pull Yani’s tongue and tie it up in a knot so badly. However, Yani was right. Kris was there to make a demand as if a contract had long passed its prescription period. He voiced out, “You’re my partner for the Theology paper.”

“What? I thought the professor said we can choose our own teammates.”

“Yes, he did. And that’s why I’m choosing you.”

Yani looked at Kris up and down with a dismayed message coming from his features. “But did I agree to group with you?”

Kris didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

“I don’t have a choice on this matter, don’t I?”

“No.”

“Figures.”

Saturday

The scent of instant noodles, namely the calamansi flavor of Pancit Canton, lingered around Yani’s home. The scent was quite pungent and citrusy—filled with umami. His stomach rumbled, but it hid behind the clicky sounds from Kris sitting on the floor, right across the living room coffee table, speed typing on his laptop as though he was running out of time.

Yani observed the man across from him. Like any other day, the latter was majestic. If it weren’t for his hunger for exterminating wickedness in this world with a frown always present on his face, Yani swore that rather than a babaylan, Kris could be mistaken for a Dayang. In other words, a Datu’s (tribe chief) daughter. But of course, unlike a Dayang, Kris would never be secluded and hidden for protection. As a matter of fact, people would want to hide and protect themselves from Kris. Literally me. Please save me.

“What are you spacing out for?” Kris was first to break the silence.

“Huh? Me? oh, nothing.”

Kris lifted his head up from his laptop screen. “Your attention span is horrible. Do you have ADHD?”

“What? No! Hey, the professor said students are not allowed to diagnose.”

“So you’re running around undiagnosed, then.”

Yani pouted and blew a puff of air from his pressed lips. “Can’t you be nicer to me? You’re the only person I can talk with, yet you’re always being mean. It’s sad.”

Kris pulled his fingers away from the keyboard. “Were you really that sad?”

“Yeah! I don’t deserve to be treated this way.” Yani crossed his arms—puffing air to his right cheek with a childish frown forming.

Kris observed for a second—trying to think of what to do next. “Alright, fine. Let’s take a break. Besides, the noodles are already cooked by now.

In a matter of milliseconds, Yani’s expression changed, and he stood up with a small bounce. “Yay! Let’s go eat!” He dashed towards the kitchen.

At first, Kris watched his classmate excitedly waddle around. Without letting Yani see and hear, he let out a subtle chuckle. There’s no doubt that Kris found the boy irresponsible, annoying, and stupid. However, sometimes, he spots a charm in the latter’s character. Well, maybe not as a friend, but more like a companion. 

Like a stubborn little puppy.

Since it’s already break time from all of the assignments, the two boys headed out to the place’s garden as per the recommendation of Yani’s mother. The weather was quite breezy, and the clouds were up to protect both of them from harsh UV rays. They both invited themselves for a meal while seated on a table set made from cement and painted white.

Kris ate with poise—twisting the noodles using his fork and eating with manners worthy of a banquet. On the other hand, Yani was slurping down his noodles—unveiling such sloppy sounds. The louder it was, the more he enjoyed his meal. Kris was about to throw remarks filled with judgement, but decided not to for the sake of the other’s mental well-being.

Kris observed the place. It was green, with some specs of other colors from the flowers on the pots and shrubs. One thing, or many, that he noticed was how each plant seemed to exist for a purpose. After all, it’s not often that a home would take care of a laurel and lagundi plant. “Your mom’s fond of gardening?” Kris asked before taking a sip of water to end his meal.

“Hm?” Yani set his fork down. “Nah, why?”

“I just noticed how well taken care of the garden looks.”

“Oh, really?” Yani excitedly looked around. “Thanks! I’m in charge here.”

“Really? I didn’t expect you to be the plantito type.”

Chuckling, “I have loved plants since I was young. This garden belonged to my grandma before she passed away a few years back.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“No worries. It’s all good now. I spent a great while with her when she was still around. It was all well spent.” Yani giggled.

Kris let out a barely noticeable smile at that. Despite Yani’s minor imperfections, for Kris, he was an innocent and pure hearted soul. And despite their previous chase, using his own sixth sense, he could view that Yani’s aura was void of all malice—just slightly tinted with playfulness and mischief. And that’s what ticked him off at first. He didn’t know that such a pure person could exist—so he must not have been a normal person. Hence, the capture.

“Were you two close?”

“Absolutely! Lola was the reason I decided to be a mangkukulam… like her.”

“Really? Don’t tell me she’s done maleficent things.” 

“Not at all!” Yani exclaimed while shaking his hands in disagreement. “She always told me that having great power means equal responsibility. Like Spiderman, y’know?”

“How righteous for a mangkukulam.” Kris was a bit skeptical. “What does she do with those powers then?”

“Well… for one, the shop at Quiapo belonged to her. All I know she ever did was make predictions and make miniscule curses like having a person trip and fall on the floor twenty times a day.”

Kris was dumbfounded yet impressed. Wow, he’s exactly like his grandmother. Kris directed his head at a wooden shed sitting right in the garden they were sat. “How about that? I can sense some energy from that shed. Was it hers too?”

“Yup”

“And let me guess, that’s yours now too?”

“Also yup”

Yani stood up, abandoning his noodles. “Wanna take a look?”

“You already read my mind.”

Upon entry, Kris was faced with multiple posters of The Cure, Bauhaus, and Siouxsie. What a way to honor your grandmother’s place.

Yani turned the light on and sat on a long bamboo chair. “You see, Lola was from Siquijor, so she grew up in a very supernatural environment. She told me stories about her experiences growing up, and it led me to be filled with curiosity.”

Kris listened, and sat down right beside Yani. 

“Mom then had to move to Manila to work, and she wasn’t fond of grandma’s stuff. Mom wasn’t born with a sixth sense… so she wouldn’t understand.” Yani chuckled, then kept going. “Mom met my dad, and she converted to Catholicism… and my grandma, of course, stayed with her own beliefs despite moving to Manila soon after.”

Kris nodded, and asked, “So when your grandma found out about your sixth sense, I guess she took care of you?”

“Yeah… My sixth sense opened when I was in grade school.” He sighed loudly and stretched his legs upon recalling the past. “My best friend… His father just died. And one day, while playing patintero with him, I saw his father.”

Kris listened intently, curious.

“His father told me that he doesn’t have enough time left. He wanted me to tell his son that he loved him so much, and that he apologizes for leaving too soon.”

Yani bit his lower lip shortly. “And then…”

Flashback, Yani’s Childhood

“Karl, let me tell you something.”  A young Yani called out to his best friend—pausing their game.

“What’s up?”

Yani looked around, seeing so many other kids. Thus, he took Karl’s arm and hurriedly went to a distance—behind a bunch of trees. Panting, Karl complained, “What is it, bro? What’s with the running?”

Yani nervously fidgeted, then sighed. “Don’t- Don’t think I’m weird, ok?”

Karl laughed, ruffling Yani’s hair. “You’ve been weird, Yani. You talk about the creepiest things. Anyway, just tell me.”

“Uhm… I saw your dad.”

A pause. Karl’s expression changed. Shocked and confused.

“What did you say?”

“I saw your dad…”

“Yani, you know what happened to my dad.”

Yani abruptly held Karl’s arm in a panic. “I know! But- But I saw him! A while ago. He- He wanted to send a message.”

“A message? Yani, don’t say weird things. I know you like horror but-”

“No, it’s true! Your dad wanted me to tell you that he apologizes, and that he loves you!”

Karl’s expression turned sour. He pulled his arm away from Yani. “Are you kidding me? If  this is a joke, then stop it. It’s not funny.”

“But it’s no-!” Karl pushed Yani against a tree trunk.

“Shut up!” The taller man gripped on Yani’s collar. “My dad died because he got into a car crash after drinking out with- With his other woman! I know you’re into scary stuff, but this is real life! Stop confusing it!”

“But I’m not lying!” A punch landed on Yani’s right cheek. He couldn’t comprehend what had just happened at that very moment. All he could do was cry.

And suddenly, as more punches came, he felt his mind flash with scenes not coming from his own memory. He saw the worst of the worst. How Karl watched his mother beg for his father to come home, how Karl envied his classmates during family day, and how despite his father’s death, Karl mourned for him until he was standing in front of a grave.

His years in grade school passed. Nearly everyday, he was met with bullying. Rumors spread around the campus about how he was crazy. Some days, Karl and his other former friends were there to throw punches at him. Regardless, not once did he complain or report them—especially Karl. Because with each bruise, he could see a person’s reason. Karl’s reason. And after that, he graduated without bringing anyone or anything with him. No friends, no good memories, and not even resentment.