Work Text:
The Art of Letting Go
An excerpt of feelings for someone who became a solace and now a forgotten box that will not be looked for anymore.
The rain against the windowpane is a rhythmic, relentless staccato—a sound that used to signal late-night calls with Jaze. Back then, it felt like the soundtrack of a life. Now, it just sounds like the passing of time, a cold reminder of a version of him that no longer exists.
Love was a word he knew how to define in a dictionary, but as a feeling? Isa itong wikang banyaga na hindi niya kailanman naiintindihan. He grew up surrounded by relatives, but felt like a ghost in his own home, always alone, fending for himself in the quiet corners of a crowded room. He didn't crave it, but he didn't fear it either. He was content in his solitude—hanggang sa dumating si Jaze.
It started with a clumsy apology. A message in a group chat, just trying to smooth over some sharp words he’d thrown around.
"Hey, Jaze," he typed, his thumbs hesitant. "I’m sorry about the way I acted in the GC earlier. It wasn’t professional."
Jaze’s reply was almost immediate. "It’s alright, El. We’ve all had days like that. Don’t sweat it.”
It wasn't supposed to be more than a polite exchange. But days bled into weeks, and their conversations began to carve out a space in the middle of his dull, rigid routine. Jaze became the notification he looked for, the small shift in mood that turned a gray afternoon into something vibrant.
"I won't fall for anyone from the GC," he told Leon one evening, laughing off his teasing. "It’s too risky. Too messy."
Pero nagsisinungaling na siya sa sarili niya.He remembered the sharp, stinging jealousy he felt when Jaze joked about worshipping Blue’s tattoos. He had tried to play the same game, flirting with someone else just to see if Jaze would blink. He didn't. He didn't even notice. And that hurt more than the actual betrayal.
Tapos dumating ang gabing iyon. Ang pinsan niya, nagpa-panic sa GC, hinahanap siya dahil hatinggabi na. Bilang kaibigan, sinabi niya ang mga updates na sinabi ni Jaze sa kanya… pero hindi pala alam ng pinsan niya. Doon niya napagtanto; Siya lang ang nakakaalam ng mga sikreto nito.That small, intoxicating sense of exclusivity had blinded him to the reality that a secret is not the same thing as a sanctuary.
"I’ve been trying to get your attention for weeks," Jaze admitted, his voice sounding shy through the screen. "I didn't know how to court you properly. I guess I was just… scared of doing it wrong."
It was endearing. It was the crack in his armor. He gave him a chance, and soon, they were inseparable. He claimed him as his boyfriend, a protective shield against the boys who flooded his DMs.
For three months, he felt like he was living in the clouds. Even with the distance, he was his anchor through the grueling pressure of being a third-year student.
But the Midnight Rain began to fall.
The chats went from vibrant to robotic. His nights became a sacrifice. He stayed up until the early hours, risking his sleep schedule just to catch a glimpse of him, hiding his exhaustion so he wouldn't feel guilty.
"Are you still up?" Jaze would message, his tone dry.
"Yeah," he’d reply, heart racing. "Just studying."
He didn't know he was waiting. He didn't know that his world had narrowed down to the glow of his phone screen. Then, the silence. Three days of absolute nothingness. Nag-alala siya, hanggang sa nalaman niya sa pinsan nito na naka-bed rest pala si Jaze. He was relieved, pero may lamat na ang tiwala niya.The realization wasn't that Jaze was sick, but that in his sickness, he hadn't thought to tell him. He wasn't the first person Jaze turned to.
By their fifth month, the silence wasn't just physical; it was emotional. Valentine's Day was the breaking point.
"Sorry," sabi nito nung gabi na. "Hinatak ako ng friends ko, pagod ako, matutulog na ako."
"I waited all day, Jaze," bulong niya sa dilim.
Kinabukasan, nangako itong babawi. Pero hindi rin.
So, he reached out to his cousin, who sounded baffled. “He could have just told his friends he wanted to be with you. I don't know why he didn't."
Doon niya narealize: Hindi siya naging priority.It was a quiet, suffocating truth that settled in his chest. He wasn't a partner; he was an option. He wasn't a destination; he was a detour.
Kaya nagdesisyon siyang tapusin ito. At ang pinakamasakit? He let him go. No fight, no apology, no effort to keep him.
"I think we should stop, Jaze," he wrote. "This isn't working."
"Okay," he replied. "If that's what you want."
—
Matagal na ang nakalipas. He doesn’t know where he is now, or who he’s become. He doesn’t know if he’s learned how to prioritize the people who love him, or if he still treats relationships like a game he isn't quite interested in winning. Pero ang multo niya, nakadikit pa rin sa mga sulok ng buhay niya. Hanggang ngayon, birthday nito pa rin ang passcode niya. But this year is different.
For the first time, He looks at the calendar and sees the date approaching, not with the familiar ache of longing, but with the cool clarity of a finished chapter. He makes a conscious choice: He will not greet him. He will not greet him.
He won't send the "Happy Birthday." He won't reach out to see if he’s doing well. Because this year, for the first time in a long time, he chose himself.
—
Months turned into a blur of personal growth, until the afternoon he met Mon.
He was at a small, quiet café in the city, nursing a cold latte. When a man stopped at his table holding a tray, he barely looked up.
"Is this seat taken?" he asked. His voice wasn't demanding; it was soft, steady, and patient.
He looked up to see Mon. He didn't have the restless energy Jaze once had; he had a gentle smile that reached his eyes and a calm demeanor that made the air around him feel lighter. "No," he said, sliding his bag off the chair. "Go ahead."
Over the next few months, Mon became a soft hum in the background of his life, never a storm. He was the text that came when he said it would. He was the guy who remembered that he preferred his coffee with less sugar and that he got anxious during typhoon season.
He was quiet, thinking about the past, about the version of him that used to stay up all night waiting for a ping that never came. He felt a phantom pang of insecurity, wondering if he would ever be enough for someone so grounded.
"You're far away again," Mon said, his voice barely audible over the rain.
He looked at him, searching his face for the usual signs of impatience or irritation, but he found none. "I'm just... I'm scared, Mon. I don't know if I know how to love without losing myself."
He didn't try to fix it with a grand gesture. He just reached out, his hand hovering near his until he finally turned his palm upward to meet his. His skin was warm, his grip steady, a stark contrast to the cold, robotic distance he had grown so used to.
"I'll help you learn about it slowly," Mon whispered.
And in that moment, in the middle of the rain, the foreign feeling of love didn't feel so strange anymore. It felt like coming home. It wasn't the volatile, dangerous lightning of his past; it was a slow, rising sun.
He realized then that he hadn't just moved on from Jaze. He had grown into someone who deserved a love that didn't demand he shrink himself just to fit into a schedule. He was finally, truly, breathing on his own. He was thankful to have met him in this lifetime, but he hoped, with everything he was, that their paths would never cross again.
Tapos na ako sa'yo, Jaze.
Finally.