The Redamancy of Shade and Art (BOOK 2)

A Wonderful Morning in Manila Bay

TRIGGER WARNING: spiraling / verbal abuse / mentions of physical abuse / generally pretty grim stuff

Shade was alone with his Mom. It was the early morning of a Saturday, and they were together under the rising sun. Mom dragged him out to see the sunrise with her. Through their bleary eyes, they drove from Taguig City to the Philippines' Capital, Manila. Sweet and pristine Manila, where Rizal Park stood proud and tall, kalesas were dragged around by tired-looking horses, and taho vendors shouted themselves hoarse.

It was the closest thing to peace Shade would have with her, he supposed. Mom was quiet for once, no ramblings about the countries and the businessmen and the coworkers. They found a good spot under a tree, set a blanket, and sat there with the rolling, calm, polluted sea in front of them. (Shade thought the entirety of Manila Bay smelled horrible. It smelled like shit, seawater, rotten fish, and garbage.) (But oh well.)

The sky was a melted sunrise of awakening orange, and the sea reflected that. Shade could imagine that maybe if he wished for it, the clouds would taste like Mango ice cream and good summers. Maybe if he stayed here—longer, quieter, in the emptiness of existence—he would find the inner peace that would fuel him for millennia. Maybe despite the vastness of the sea, in the quiet space he shared with his Mom—there was something they could call hearth.

For once.

Mom sighed, stretching her shoulders. When she was like this, Shade could see the weight of her age. 

Maybe she would understand if he spoke. Maybe she would reach for him, too.  Fuck, she's seen him beat to bloody hell. Surely, there must have been shared sympathy—

But did he deserve it?

He could barely be there for Art. Could barely look at them. Shade could barely stand up for himself against his Dad. Couldn't even reach rank one, couldn't maintain his top one spot through an entire high school life filled with struggle. Couldn't—

"Ang ganda, 'no?" Mom marveled, angling her head towards the sky. "It's so beautiful."

"Yeah," he whispered. He clamped his fists into his lap.

Silence.

And then, Mom spoke, "I miss you."

Shade nodded.

Mom huffed. A bit defeated. And then...

Nothing.

They stayed there until the sun rose. Shade exhaled at the sight, of... of a beginning, maybe? Because when he looked at Mom she didn't reach for her phone or for her camera. She only lowered her sunglasses as she faced the sun, a smile creeping onto her face.

Maybe all that time away could help them reconnect. Maybe she would listen. Maybe she learned from four years ago. Maybe she wouldn't react the same way she did when he was twelve, and he wanted her help. Maybe, this time, she'd listen.

Maybe this was a risk he could take—

"Mom," he began, a bit more broken at the edges than he would have wanted.

"Yes, Hijo?"

"Do you ever feel tired sometimes?" Please say yes. Please, please, please say yes.

Mom scoffed, "Of course."

Shade fumbled with the hem of his sleeveless shirt. "I feel tired these days," he whispered. The sun was shining. A new beginning. "Like... so tired? I can't... it's hard for me to do simple things sometimes. And—and sometimes I can't move. I don't get it. I..."