"Didn't you guys say private?" Divine asked as we stepped beneath the glaring neon sign of one of Manila's most famous nightclubs, at least according to Gabriel.
The entrance was framed with velvet ropes and impatient bodies. Music spilled out each time the door opened, thick and heavy with bass. It vibrated against my sternum, almost intrusive. The air smelled like perfume layered over sweat, alcohol, and something metallic from the lighting rigs above.
I hadn't known Gabe was a club regular. The realization felt oddly timed, like discovering a hidden trait about someone in the middle of an emotional hangover.
My tears had dried, leaving salt tracks tight against my skin. When I blinked, my eyelids felt faintly swollen. My nose, however, refused to cooperate. I kept inhaling sharply, hoping the cool night air would calm it. It didn't. Alex stayed close beside me, brushing her arm against mine every few minutes as if checking whether I was still physically there. Each time she leaned in to ask if I was okay, her breath carried the faint scent of mint gum.
I nodded instead of answering.
"Yeah," Gabe replied easily, already ushering us toward a booth tucked into a darker corner. The leather seats were cool when I slid in, slightly sticky against the back of my legs.
"Then why are we somewhere that is the exact opposite of private?" Divine continued, her voice sharp but playful.
Despite everything, a weak laugh escaped me. It surprised even me.
The lights inside were disorienting. Red and violet flooded the room in waves, blurring faces and edges. Laser beams streaked across the ceiling, catching particles of dust and smoke so the air itself seemed visible. The DJ stood elevated behind his console, hands moving like he was conducting something larger than music. Every beat felt physical, like it was pushing against my ribs.
Conversation required effort. You had to lean close, almost brush shoulders, to be heard.
"The noise will distract Kimi!" Gabriel insisted, raising his voice above the music. "And we need to celebrate. We graduated today. We survived. That deserves something."
He flagged down a waiter with dramatic confidence. Glasses arrived quickly, sweating with condensation. Ice clinked. The sharp scent of liquor rose the moment drinks were poured.
The boys responded first. Their energy climbed fast, fueled by excitement and alcohol. Laughter grew louder, looser. Even the girls seemed to relax into it, their earlier concern about me softening into something lighter.
A quiet guilt tightened in my chest.
Earlier, I had been crying in front of them. My grief had dragged the room down like heavy curtains. Now, watching them laugh again, I felt relieved but also ashamed. They shouldn't have had to fix me tonight.
"Kim! Are you feeling better?" Alex called across the table, leaning so far forward her hair fell over her shoulder.
I raised my thumb with a small grin. "Better than ever."
Mike let out a theatrical howl. "You heard that! The crybaby is revived and ready to party!"
The table erupted. Hands clapped. Someone whistled.
I clapped along, the sound grounding me. My smile widened until my cheeks ached. My eyes watered again, but the tears this time felt warmer, less jagged. They shimmered instead of stinging.
For a moment, I let myself exist in that warmth.
Glasses tapped together in quick toasts. The music shifted into something faster. Someone started dancing even before finishing their drink. I kept mine close to the table, only taking small sips. The alcohol burned faintly down my throat and settled uncomfortably in my stomach. I had never handled liquor well. Even as a curious teenager sneaking sips of beer at family gatherings, I had always hated the bitterness.
Still, even surrounded by laughter and music, my thoughts drifted.
My parents' voices slipped back into my head, clear and uninvited.
Selfish.
The word felt heavier here. Louder than the music.
Selfish for wanting to travel. Selfish for wanting a few years that belonged only to me. Selfish for choosing joy over security.
We had planned that trip years ago. I could still remember sitting in a campus hallway during my freshman year, legs stretched out on cool tiles, scribbling destinations into a notebook while the others argued about budgets and itineraries. It had felt real. Achievable. A future shaped by our own hands.
But what happened after that?
What came after the adventure?
The thought coiled slowly in my stomach. My parents weren't entirely wrong. Stability mattered. Responsibility mattered.
What if I was overreacting? What if I was letting my friends influence me more than I realized? What if I was mistaking distraction for healing?
"Is that who I think it is?" Divine suddenly shrieked.
Her voice cut through my spiraling thoughts like a blade.
We all turned.
"James!"
The name exploded out of us.
Jaime stood near the entrance, slightly disoriented as he searched for the source of the noise. When he finally spotted us, his entire expression changed. He pushed through the crowd, paper bags swinging at his side, apologizing softly to strangers as he squeezed past.
When he reached our booth, he smelled faintly of cologne and airplane cabin air.
"What's up, guys?" he grinned.
"Eyy, it's our German guy!"
"I'm fully Filipino," he corrected instantly, feigning offense. His mock frown barely lasted before dissolving into laughter as he hugged Mike.
The mood at the table spiked again.
Alex tore into one of the paper bags with excitement. "Is this Dior?" she gasped, lifting a handbag carefully as though it were fragile porcelain. The leather caught the light, smooth and flawless. She thanked him repeatedly, her voice rising with each exclamation.
One by one, everyone opened their gifts. Boxes. Logos. Designer packaging.
Even without knowing exact prices, I could tell they were expensive. The kind of items displayed behind glass.
Probably worth more than a hundred thousand pesos altogether.
A familiar heaviness settled into my chest.
They could afford to experiment with their lives. They could afford detours, gap years, changes of heart.
My family could not.
"I need to use the restroom," I muttered, though I doubted anyone heard me.
I slid out of the booth and pushed through the crowd. Bodies brushed against me, warm and unaware. Someone laughed loudly near my ear. The music intensified near the speakers, bass rattling my bones. The air felt thicker inside, harder to breathe.
By the time I reached the exit, my pulse was racing.
Outside, the shift was immediate.
The door closed behind me, muting the music into a distant thud. The night air was cold and startlingly clean. It swept over my flushed skin and made me shiver. Streetlights cast pale yellow pools across the pavement. Somewhere nearby, a car engine hummed.
I inhaled deeply.
And the tears returned.
They came quietly at first, then steadily. My throat tightened. I wiped them away before they could reach my chin, but more followed. The cold air only made my nose sting again.
"Kim!"
I froze.
James stepped toward me, breath slightly uneven from following me out. He held a brown paper bag carefully in one hand.
"You didn't open your gift," he said gently.
I tried to smile.
I tore open the stapled edge and reached inside. The box was smooth beneath my fingers, tinted in soft lavender hues.
"Perfume?"
"Your favorite scent profile," he replied. "Try it."
I sprayed some onto my wrist. The mist settled cool against my skin, then warmed as it absorbed. I waved my wrist slowly and leaned closer.
Lavender bloomed first. Clean and familiar. There was something softer beneath it, almost creamy.
My shoulders relaxed without me telling them to.
I turned the box and read the brand.
Creed.
The name felt expensive even just printed in silver.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke. The silence wasn't hostile, just delicate. He had been gone for so long. Calls had become rare. Messages delayed. There were spaces between us that hadn't existed before.
"And I heard about what happened," he said softly.
"Why are you in the country?" I asked at the same time.
We paused.
Then laughed, the tension easing slightly.
"There wasn't anything important left for me there," he explained. "So I bought the gifts ahead of time. Booked the earliest flight I could get. I wanted to surprise everyone."
He glanced around, breathing in the night air. "It feels good to be back."
I nodded slowly, focusing on the faint scent of lavender on my wrist instead of his eyes.
"And about what happened," I said, choosing my words carefully, "I'm doing better."
"Well, obviously. Otherwise you'd still be a crying mess." He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that was both annoying and comforting.
I scoffed, but I was smiling.
Then his expression shifted, more serious now.
"You know, you and Ed could come with me to Heidelberg."
The word hung between us.
Heidelberg.
It sounded distant. Foreign. Bright.
"Study medicine. Or something else," he continued. "You don't have to be a doctor. You could apply as a student researcher."
Inside, the music pulsed faintly through the walls. My friends were in there celebrating a future we had mapped out years ago.
Here, under cold streetlights and the scent of lavender, another future was being offered to me.
"What would I even need to do?" I asked, my voice softer than before.