The Redamancy of Shade and Art (BOOK 2)

Chapter 2

hello! please don't be ghost readers <3

The worst part about spending time with Angelito and Art was going home afterward. It didn't matter if they found themselves in a park. In a mall. Playing laser tag or wandering to arcades and bookstores. It didn't matter because, at the end of the day, Shade grudgingly had to return to his home.

Or, more accurately, his house.

Shade sulked alone in a Grab taxi that smelled like lemon and powdered donuts. Shade kept his AirPods in and listened to the playlists Art made for him. This one was titled: For When You Need to Commute, even when they were fully aware Shade couldn't commute for his fucking life.

He sighed heavily. Sunk into the chair a bit. Rubbed his eyes.

He was so tired.

Shade couldn't fathom the heaviness in his chest when the roads of Pateros, Mandaluyong, and Bonifacio Global City paved way to the more familiar ones. When you left the obscenely shining, wealthy parts of Bonifacio Global City ity filled with trust-fund kids and Tim Horton enthusiasts, you'd inch your way towards the power-hungry part of the city. The military base, where roads were cracked and trees were tall and ancient.

Fort Bonifacio.

Shade lived in the village beside it. It was a gated village where only the wealthier and more powerful army officers settled in. (It was pretty... alright... as far as villages went.)

He paid for the Grab, quickly saying thank you to the driver. He didn't bother taking the change, not even when the driver called for him to come back, as Shade shut the car door behind him. He let himself be dropped off outside the gate. (Taxis were allowed inside—but Shade wasn't in the mood to do the paperwork.)

He trudged.

His house was two streets away from the main road, one right turn and then turn left on the fourth street. A corner lot.

It was so... lonely.

Spending days with Art and Angelito left a hollow ache in Shade's chest when he had to spend his days alone. The happy days with his friends made him realize how bleak his own days were.

Everything was bathed in overbearing, over-saturated yellow and orange. The streets and the rooftops were sizzling with the Filipino summer sun, and even the fucking shadows seemed to be more alive than Shade was. Every house and little store he passed blared various summer stations on their speakers. Children were playing outside, Shade passed by his favorite fishball stand and bought more than he should have, and the whole village was alive with the privilege of power and summer.

Shade had those privileges, too. But something was missing. And he was made acutely aware of it with each step, with each family he passed down who was relaxing behind their colorful painted gates. They waved at him.

"Uy, Flaurante! Good morning!"

Shade waved back, dimly recalling their family names, too. Gonzales. Ramos. Binondo. Tulay.

Everyone knew each other here, under the military ladder of camaraderie and brotherhood.

Shade stood outside their white house, feeling the complete weight of the world settle back onto his shoulders. There was a physical pain that came with the thought of it, and he stretched slightly as if it was something he could shoo away. Their gate was black, and when Shade peeked through there weren't any cars in the gate or driveway. Good. He didn't have to explain why he was gone for nearly half the day. Ate Lynn—housemaid, because his Dad did shelter him too much—was lounging outside on the porch. She quickly hastened herself to open the gate for him.