Chapter Text
"To criticize is not to destroy. It is to care enough to demand repair."
College of Social Sciences and Philosophy, Reading Room — Tuesday, 3:21 PM.
Incoming Call: Jaemin Aubrey Inocencio Na
“Jusko! Tagal sumagot ni Bading!”
“Sinong bading?” Elo answered. “Walang bading dito, uy. Unsa man?”
“Daan ka nga sa tindahan bago umuwi, wala nang bigas. Dagdagan mo na rin ng Mang Tomas hehe.”
He wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder, shifting the weight of his tumbler and Form 5 to his other arm.
“May patago ka ‘teh?” pang-aasar niya. Sigurado siyang umuusok nanaman ang ilong nito habang hawak ang rice cooker nilang naka-life support na. Paano ba naman, panahon pa ata ito ni kupong-kupong na dinekwat niya lang sa bahay nila para may magamit sila sa dorm.
“Ah ganon?” Jain snapped back. “Kakakuha ko pa naman ng box sa terminal kanina, sakto may liempo na pinadala si mama. ‘Wag kang kakain ah!” sagot nito sa kabilang linya.
Liempo.
Nang marinig ang magic word ay agad nagningning ang mata niya kasi WHAT DO YOU MEAN makakakain siya ng totoong pagkain after nilang mag-delata ng halos isang linggo?
“Hep! Jain, Wanda, ako na. Ilang kilong bigas ba? ‘Di problema ang pera!” He tried not to raise his voice despite his excitement.
“PG ka talaga ‘no,” Jain grumbled. “Kahit isang kilo lang muna, mamamalengke naman kami ni Rai bukas sa KNL.”
“Ano pa? May 3-in-1 pa ba tayo? Magl-lock in sana ako mamaya eh.” Hindi ito sumagot agad, pero naririnig niya itong naghahalungkat sa background.
“Ayon, meron pa 'teh. 'Yung Mang Tomas ah!"
“Oo na, may dadaanan lang ako sa reading room.” he said, ending the call.
And just like that, Elo stepped inside the reading room like a man on a mission.
His eyes roamed the space. Hindi niya alam kung sadyang mainit lang talaga o hindi na umuubra ang aircon dahil buong UP na ata ang nandito. He wasn’t even supposed to be here today. Pero since napadaan na rin siya after org, might as well check if may copy ng libro na kailangan niya for his take-home assessment.
Cramming was no longer an option dahil medyo marami siyang ganap this week. Hindi pa siya nakaka-recover sa last round ng sunod-sunod na deadlines ay may nakaabang nanaman sa kanyang sandamakmak na readings. Hindi naman kasi siya na-inform na sa BA Psych pala, pwedeng ikaw ang maging subject ng future case studies dahil undergrad ka pa lang ay mababaliw ka na. Dagdag mo pa ang mga rehearsals niya sa teatro para sa upcoming forum. Last time na nag-cram siya, inedit niya ang reflection paper niya sa backstage habang naka-makeup as Andres Bonifacio.
He scanned the spines. Lasco, Lasco…There it is.
The Philippines Is Not a Small Country, barely sticking out from the shelf. Sakto.
He reached for it but of course, tulad ng lahat ng bagay na gusto niya sa buhay, may kaagaw siya.
Another hand grabbed the same book.
“Sorry—” he said, instincts kicking in, before looking up.
Okay, the guy was slightly taller. May dalang laptop, wearing a blue button-down, neatly rolled sleeves. The guy looked composed.
Too composed. Composer ka ‘teh?
Dumako ang tingin niya sa kamay nila na parehong nakahawak sa libro, not touching but both with a firm grip. Instead of letting go, the guy pulled it gently toward him.
“I requested this to be reshelved today.”
“Ah. Weh?” Elo blinked, not moving his hand. “Eh kuya paano ‘yan, nauna ako?”
“You requested this too?” the guy asked, raising an eyebrow — not rude, mukha namang curious lang.
“Yes.” WHAT A LIE. He didn’t even know you could do that.
“But I really need this today,” the guy said. “I have an article due tomorrow.”
“Same, may deadline din ako bukas.”
He was bluffing, his paper wasn’t due until next week. Pero the stakes felt real. He already cleared his night to finish the assessment, naka-time block pa nga sa GCal niya so no way in hell was he walking away now.
“Maybe we can just photocopy it?” the guy offered, glancing at him. “You can keep the book, I’ll take the copies.”
“May event sa comp lab,” Elo said flatly, hands still on the book. “‘Di available xerox nila ngayon.”
The guy paused. “Right,” he nodded. “Then… I’ll just photocopy it outside. May alam akong malapit, kaso it might take a while since I need three chapters from it.”
He doesn’t budge.
“You can come with me if you want so you can get the book right after.” dagdag pa nito.
At this point, nagkaka-internal monologue na siya. Wow. Una, there’s no way sasama ako sa kanya para lang magpa-xerox. Pangalawa, masyado na akong lapot para mag-martsa pa kung saan man. At para saan? Sa librong hindi ko pa naman talaga kailangan.
The guy tugged again—gentle, patient.
Elo resisted for one more second just to be annoying, then finally let go.
“No thanks,” he muttered, stepping back. “Have fun with Lasco, I guess.”
The guy nodded a quiet thanks. “Mario.” He said, out of nowhere.
“Ano?”
“My name.”
Elo blinked. “Okay?”
“Babalik ko agad. One hour tops. If nandito ka pa, you can have it next.” The guy said before jogging towards the circulation desk to have the book checked out.
He wasn’t being rude or anything, but something about the calmness made Elo’s blood boil even more.
Acacia Residence Hall — 10:45 PM
The dorm lights were dim. Jain was already asleep, nasa ilalim na ng kumot niyang may kupas na Stitch print. Rai, ever the responsible one, was slumped over his readings but was slowly nodding off with highlighter still in hand.
Elo, however, was wide awake and very much in the mood to fight someone. He leaned back on his monobloc chair, eyes landing on the corner of his desk where his tumbler and Form 5 still sat. His mind drifted to what happened at the library, to the book he didn’t get to bring home, and to the lie that came out of his mouth a little too smoothly.
Elo groaned quietly, rolling his eyes at himself. Bakit ba siya affected? It shouldn't be bugging him this much.
He shook his head and opened the TINTA website. It was muscle memory at this point.
The name of the site is too long for its own good: Tipon ng mga Nagkakaisang Tinig ng Anakpawis, hence, TINTA. Basically, a student-run space where everyone thinks their opinion matters including him. A mix of articles, essays, personal narratives—gawa ng mga tulad niya, para sa mga tulad niya.
Some nights, it felt like reading the collective brainrot of every woke kid in UP. Other nights, it felt like home.
But tonight? It’s definitely none of those nights.
Top Feature:
“Theater of Outrage: Why We Need More Than Fury in the Fight for Equitable Education.— by @lone.el
The title alone made his blood pressure spike.
“PUTANGINA.”
Whump!
Isang unan ang lumipad mula sa kama ni Rai at tumama sa batok niya.
“Haechan Loise, alas-onse na!” Rai hissed, glaring at him over his glasses. “Mano-noise complaint nanaman tayo niyan.”
“Eh gago oh,” Elo grumbled, clutching his phone like a murder weapon. “Ako nanaman ‘yung pinapatamaan! ‘Theater of Outrage’ daw? Sinong theater kid ba ang nagsulat recently tungkol sa tuition hike? Ako!”
Rai laughed. “In fairness, consistent siya sa pag-aabang sa article mo ah. Sabagay, ikaw nga naka-on notifs pa sa page niya.”
“Excuse me?! Gusto ko lang malaman agad kung sinisiraan niya nanaman ako sa TINTA!” depensa niya.
“Sus! Pwede ka na nga maging president ng Lone El fanatics at baka nga Hollow-halo enthusiast na 'yon at this point. Mag-iisang taon na kaya ‘yan!”
Right. Lone El and Hollow-halo had been circling each other on TINTA for the past year. Their little rivalry and parinigan made some noise, enough to earn them a semi-permanent spot on the Top Feature list almost every week.
Elo was already pacing the tiny dorm room as he waited for the article to load, glaring at his phone na para bang ito ang nagsulat ng article na patama sa kanya.
“There is nothing inherently wrong with rage. But we must ask: when does it clarify, and when does it merely perform?”
“What the fuck, pinagsasabi nito?” he muttered, nearly tripping over Jain’s laundry bag.
His heart was pounding.
“The recent surge of dissent over the tuition hike has reignited the power of protest — not only as a form of policy critique, but also as a performative expression of student outrage. Some have framed the hike as a spotlight on systemic betrayal. But alongside these narratives, it is equally important to situate the broader legislative context at play: budget cycles, administrative memos, and legislative gaps that allowed such policy to pass quietly, beyond the glare of the stage.
Rage can wake people up.But policy keeps the lights on.”
“Pass quietly ka diyan,” he spat. “Tangina neto, kung maka-legislative context, akala mo hindi ko binanggit sa footnote #3 ‘yung budget realignment clause ng GAA.”
He sat back down with force, muttering as he opened his Google docs like it was second nature. His fingers flew across the keyboard, lips moving faster than the words on screen. He spent an hour reading the whole article and scrolling through the comments and another 2 hours drafting a reply—a counter-narrative.
“…may layon ang galit. May direksyon. At kung sa tingin mo wala—kanino ka ba talaga nakikinig?” The ending statement of his draft.
He paused. “Kanino ka ba talaga nakikinig?” he muttered to himself. “Pakshet. Ganda nun.”
Rai cracked one eye open. “Elo, kung ayaw mo matulog, magpatulog ka.”
But Elo’s glare was locked on the screen. Because if Lone El thought he could silence a theater kid by calling him dramatic—
Then this theater kid was about to give him the standing ovation he didn’t ask for.
**
Palma Hall — Wednesday, 3:34 PM
It wasn’t even a full day.
Pagkalabas pa lang ni Elo ng Palma Hall that afternoon (gutom, pawis, at may bitbit pang sama ng loob sa GE prof niyang nagpa-"surprise" quiz na wala man lang paandar), ang una niyang naisip ay kung naibalik na ba nung lalaki si Lasco.
Napailing siya. Kahapon pa 'yon, and yet the memory still clung to him. Akala niya ay kaya niyang itulog ito, pero paggising niya kaninang umaga hanggang sa makapasok niya sa klase ay ito pa rin ang nasa isip niya.
Halfway down the AS steps, he finally understood why it bothered him so much.
What a bitch, he thought, referring to himself. Aminado naman siyang medyo madali siyang mainis at madalas ay galit talaga siya sa mundo. Pero para magsinungaling para lang makuha ang gusto niya? That’s what really bothered him.
He remembered the way he held on to that book like it was a trophy he had to win. The way he said he had a deadline, when in fact, he didn’t. The way he looked that guy in the eye and lied without flinching.
It didn’t sit right with him. It was the kind of thing he usually couldn’t stand — ‘yung mga nanloloko, nagsisinungaling, just to get what they want.
And that’s exactly what he did.
Maybe for some, it was no big deal. A white, harmless lie. But for him? Honesty was a big thing. Especially in spaces like theirs—sa pagsusulat, sa aktibismo.
Sa mundo ng protesta at prinsipyo, integrity was the least you could hold on to.
"Ino-overthink mo kasi, Eloy." he convinced himself, walking down the steps.
Pero ilang hakbang pa lang ang nagagawa niya ay bumalik nanaman ito sa isip niya. And he hated it. Hated the way it lingered. Hated how it made him feel like he was still holding that damn book. The guy wasn’t even rude. And him? He played dirty, all because he didn’t want to lose.
“Binigay ko naman ‘yung libro, ‘di ba?” he whispered to himself. But it didn’t sound like a justification... more like a question he couldn't answer.
He lied. Over a book. And sure, he's not the most likeable person around—he's loud, maarte, madalas galit pero hindi unfair. He didn’t want to be that kind of person. So now here he was, nursing guilt like he owed Lasco guy an apology.
What made it worse is that even that guilt couldn’t erase the fact that guy, Mario, got to him a little.
So, after a quick pit stop sa Lutong Bahay for an overpriced ginisang munggo, bumalik siya sa loob ng Palma at dumiretso sa reading room.
Lo and behold.
The Philippines Is Not a Small Country, back in its place like nothing happened. Like it didn’t witness a pride war twenty-four hours ago.
He picked it up, casually checked the borrowing log, and yep — returned by "Lee, Mario" at 4:16 PM.
So, binalik talaga niya after 1 hour kahapon? Award, very punctual.
Acacia Residence Hall — 9:18 PM
The fan whirred weakly as Elo settled at his desk. A pile of notes, printed readings, and highlighters scattered around. He opened the book and started scanning the table of contents.
Chapter 2. Nation. Page 17.
As he flipped to it, something fluttered out. A yellow sticky note.
Small. Neat handwriting. Dark blue ink.
"To criticize is not to destroy. It is to care enough to demand repair.”
Elo stared at it for maybe three seconds too long. At first, akala niya instruction or footnote. But there was no mark, no additional notes.
He was about to crumple it. Pero sa halip, dinikit niya ito sa side ng desk — just beside an old pink sticky note from Rai that says: “Don’t sleep with your contacts again, gago.”
He didn’t even press it all the way. Just a lazy stick.
He rolled his eyes, muttering to himself, “Okay, Lasco, magtutuos muna tayo.”
Then he started reading.
As if the note didn’t intrigued him.
As if the neatness of the handwriting didn’t bother him.