image [https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7f/Rotating_earth_animated_transparent.gif]
Earth, 2020.
The year began with the worst loss of human life in history. The worldwide virus, Virex-9, had emerged, and it was tearing through the planet. A Pathogenic Neurological Virus, it attacked the nervous system—damaging the brain and spinal cord, causing chaos and dysfunction in its wake.
The virus quickly forced countries into lockdowns, overwhelmed healthcare systems, collapsed economies, and closed schools. Over 5% of the world’s population was dead.
Virex-9 was discovered at the end of 2019, but at first, governments downplayed the threat. They handed out some supplies to the affected, but did little else. By the start of 2020, the virus had evolved, spreading faster, infecting more people, and killing them one by one. People stayed inside to avoid contact, as the virus spread through the air, bodily fluids, and surface contact.
Only those who had to work could leave their homes. But work was limited to essential services like supermarkets. Those allowed to work had to wear full protective gear—face masks, shields, and suits.
Supermarkets became lifelines, but even then, the government restricted how many could enter. Only five to seven people from each neighborhood were allowed inside to get supplies.
“How much?” a man asked, placing a pack of noodles on the counter.
Noodles were one of the most bought items this year. People were stocking up, and the price kept rising as months passed.
Clink. "It’ll be 5 dollars," the cashier said. He was Lucas, a 23-year-old supermarket worker, standing at 5'9" with black hair.
He worked long hours to support himself and his 8 year old sister. He had no idea how much longer the virus would last or how much longer his life would be like this—wake up, work day and night, go home, rest, do chores, then repeat.
They didn’t have parents. They’d been separated a long time ago. Their father was an alcoholic who used to beat their mother until she left them. They found out later she had started a new family, and their father, spiraling deeper into addiction, began to turn on Lucas, beating him up too. But then their father died because of some complications in liver. From then on Lucas regretted how he didn’t saved his mother from being beaten by their father. He regret living his life not being able to say a thing to their parents.
He regretted things that weren't even his fault. Like when their family, once whole and happy, shattered the day his father lost his job and sank into alcoholism. That was when everything started to fall apart. But the worst part—the thing that cut deepest—was how he never once said "I love you" to either of his parents. Not once. And how he never had the chance to reach out, to hold them, to try and fix any of it before it was too late.
But the worst regret of all, the one that tore him apart every day, was knowing his younger sister would never experience what a real family felt like. She’d never know what it was to have a mother and father who loved each other, who loved her. And now, with the cancer eating her alive, she would leave this world without ever feeling that warmth. He couldn't protect her from it, couldn’t give her the one thing she deserved more than anything—a family that was whole. And that was the guilt that would haunt him until the end.
He was the only one living with himself now, living alone with the weight of everything. His sister was in the hospital, and their mother—who barely kept in touch—sent them a monthly allowance for food and meds. He appreciated it so much but then it was never enough.
When Lucas first got the job at the supermarket, it wasn’t during the pandemic. He’d been so damn happy, he’d jumped out of bed and slammed it into the wall, barely caring about the mess. It wasn’t the freedom that mattered to him—not the chance to live for himself. It was the thought that finally, finally, he could start help pay for his sister’s treatment, even slightly. He could get her that dollhouse she’d wanted for so long. That dollhouse that he was saving up for too long.
But now? Now he wasn’t sure if anything he did would ever be enough to fix the hell they were living through. His sister's condition became more and more severe each passing day and all he is doing is work harder and harder for a pay that doesn't even make his sister better.
"Damn, prices surely is going higher and higher." The man said as he pays for the pack of noodles. Lucas couldn’t care much but he agreed with it, even he suffers from the increasing of the prices of the primary necessities that he have to purchase for himself.
“Was it hard to find the drinks you wanted today?” Lucas suddenly said focusing on the man smiling.
The man stood frozen, sweat dripping down his bald head. “What… why… oh, yes!” he stammered, his voice shaking as he became visibly more nervous.
The silence that followed was awkward and uncomfortable. Lucas just stared, his gaze fixed and unyielding, locking eyes with the man. “I forgot the drinks my brother told me to buy!” the man suddenly blurted out, before bolting toward the drinks aisle like a panicked deer.
As a supermarket worker, Lucas had developed an ability to spot theft and pick up on suspicious patterns. When the man handed over the money for his pack of noodles earlier, Lucas couldn’t help but notice the distinct bulge of a bottle tucked under his jacket. But instead of causing a scene, Lucas just smiled to himself when he saw the man rush out of the store, leaving the stolen bottle neatly back on the shelf.
With a shrug, Lucas returned to serving the rest of the customers at his counter. Most of them were in a rush, others complaining about prices that seemed to climb higher with every passing week.
After the store closed, the limited number of workers allowed into the locker room grabbed their belongings before heading home. Lucas was among them, accompanied by Robb, his childhood friend and fellow coworker.
“Man, what a day. The second I’m home, I’m diving straight into the shower,” Robb groaned, yanking at his shirt and fanning it up and down in a desperate attempt to cool himself off.
Lucas handed Robb a folded bill. “Here. Payment,” he said plainly.
Robb, too focused on rummaging through his locker, didn’t even look up. “Robb,” Lucas repeated, louder this time.
“Hey,” Robb said, finally glancing over, surprised to see Lucas holding out money. “What’s that for?”
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“My payment for the loan last week,” Lucas replied.
Robb smirked, putting his hands on his hips as he accepted the cash. “Man, is your sister doing okay?” he asked, his tone softening.
Lucas stared at his locker for a moment, grabbing his bag without turning to face Robb. “The doctor says it’s getting worse every week,” he said flatly. “But… lately, she’s been smiling more. She looks so full of energy, you know?”
Robb stepped closer, lifting his hand to give Lucas a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Lucas immediately took a step back.
Robb raised an eyebrow. “What the hell, man? I was just gonna pat you on the shoulder. It’s not like I’ve got the virus or something,” he said with a laugh.
“No, it’s not the virus,” Lucas replied, flashing a grin. “It’s just that you smell so bad, I’d rather risk a pandemic than deal with that.”
Robb froze for a second before doubling over with laughter. “Touché, man. Guess I really do need that shower!”
Lucas stepped closer to Robb and gave him a light punch on the arm—a silent nod of respect as he cracked a small smile. “Thanks, man,” he said, his voice sincere.
Robb blinked, momentarily surprised, before breaking into a grin. “Yo, it’s nothing, you bastard,” he shot back, shaking his head with a chuckle.
Once Lucas had grabbed his bag, he headed straight outside. No bike, no scooter or any vehicle—just his two feet carrying him home. He liked to think of it as exercise, though. He wasn’t one to complain; instead, he was grateful for the simple things—two legs to walk on and eyes to see where he was going. But walking came with its risks, especially during a pandemic. The virus was airborne, and Lucas made sure to gear up with extra masks and protective layers before stepping out.
“What a day,” he whispered to himself, as he kicked a stray pebble along the pavement.
Brmmm...
The sound of an engine turned his gaze to the side. A wide road stretched out, nearly empty, with just a handful of cars driving by. The night was so bright it almost felt like day.
As Lucas watched the cars pass, a memory tugged at him. His first toy—a tiny jeepney, a miniature version of the transport vehicle. It wasn’t just any toy; it was a gift from his father when he was still working, brought back from a business trip to Asia.
That little jeepney was the first and only toy he ever owned. Even now, it sat on his desk, its paint faded but its value untouched, a relic of a time when things felt a little simpler—or maybe just a little less broken.
As Lucas let his mind wander through those good memories, a cold drop hit the top of his head. Then another. He looked down and saw the ripples spreading across the pavement.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Shhhhh.
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“Ah, damn it,” Lucas muttered, throwing a quick glance at the sky. The rain came faster, heavier. He sprinted toward the nearest store with a small overhang, skidding to a stop under the shelter.
More people began to rush in, seeking refuge from the sudden downpour. Six others now crowded near Lucas, most of them clad head-to-toe in protective gear.
“The forecast didn’t say anything about rain today. Shit,” one man grumbled, hands jammed into his pockets as he shivered. Unlike the others, he wore no mask, no shield, no gear—just a cigarette hanging from his mouth, its end hissing faintly as the rain spat on it.
The group exchanged uneasy glances, their silent stares lingering on him. Lucas found himself watching too.
The man frowned, exhaling smoke. “What? Do I look like some Hollywood star or something?” His voice was sharp, almost mocking.
No one responded. The awkward tension hung for a moment before they collectively shifted their attention elsewhere, silently focusing on their own business.
Shhhhh.
Drip.
Lucas glanced through the store window, catching the time on a clock mounted inside. 6:40 PM. His phone had died hours ago, and he didn’t want to risk guessing wrong about the time again.
The rain eventually weakened, then stopped completely after twenty minutes. One by one, the small crowd began to disperse. Lucas stepped back onto the pavement, quickening his walking pace now. The sky had turned into a darker shade, and he didn’t want to be out any longer than he had to.
image [https://clipart-library.com/images_k/text-divider-transparent/text-divider-transparent-19.png]
Creak.
The door to Lucas’s house creaked open, revealing a small, simple interior—a living room, a bathroom, and three bedrooms. A house meant for more than one person, yet only Lucas lived here. Despite the space, it didn’t feel like a home. The emptiness wasn’t about the lack of electricity or modern comforts. It was something deeper. Something missing. And every time that hollow feeling crept in, he felt an urge to just run away.
But then running wouldn’t change anything—it never did. He had grown numb to the hollow ache that had become his constant companion. This emptiness was his routine, his normal. The only flicker of true joy came during his visits to his sister in the hospital. On the good days, her smile lit up the dark corners of his world, fragile but radiant. But on the bad days, when her face contorted in pain, that light faded, replaced by a crushing weight that left him suffocating in silence.
Even though he lived alone, Lucas refused to let the place fall apart. The house was spotless—the living room, the bathroom, even the kitchen he rarely used. No matter how exhausted he was, he made sure it stayed clean. He told himself tiredness was just a trick of the mind, something he could push through.
After finishing his nightly routine, Lucas finally allowed himself a moment to rest.
"Hah!" Lucas exhaled, feeling the weight of the day lift as he collapsed onto his bed. His room was small, the vibe laid-back, almost nostalgic. Back when he was a teenager, it had a different feel—posters of his favorite movies, walls that spoke to who he was. Now, it was quieter, emptier. On his desk sat papers with paintings on it and beside a wrapped gift, the one thing he’d been saving up for. The gift he hoped would make his sister feel what it was like to get something she truly wanted.
image [https://clipart-library.com/images_k/text-divider-transparent/text-divider-transparent-19.png]
After a restless night of sleep, Lucas woke up early, ready to take the three-hour train ride to the hospital where his sister was being treated. The hospital was a specialized cancer ward, a place that never felt like it should exist. Even after finally getting some rest, he found it hard to stay awake on the nearly empty train. Lockdowns meant fewer passengers.
"We are arriving at the 2nd station." The announcer’s voice appeared through his foggy mind, pulling him back from the brink of sleep. Lucas grabbed his bag instinctively, feeling the gift shift inside.
As the train screeched to a halt, he stepped off and heard his phone ring.
Bringg. Bringg.
He grabbed it out of his pocket, his heart racing when he saw the number. It was the hospital.
"Hello?" he answered, his voice tight.
"Is this Mr. Giotto?" a woman’s voice asked.
"Ye—yes," Lucas stammered.
"It’s about your sister," she said. "You need to visit her now," the woman added.
The response brings a fleeting relief to Lucas, but it’s quickly overshadowed by an overwhelming anxiety that propels him forward. He runs down the road, faster than he ever has, driven by a single thought: his sister. His mind races, a blur of questions he can’t escape, a storm of panic he can’t quiet. The adrenaline surging through him is unfamiliar—he's never run this fast before.
Is she okay?
Is she hurting again?
Is she feeling alone?
"Fuck!" He said running his feet more faster.
Huff.. huff.
Huff. Lucas kept running, his legs burning with every step, sweat pouring down his face as he neared the hospital.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
His heart pounded like it was ready to burst, each breath heavier, sharper. He clutched his chest, trying to steady himself, but the exhaustion clawed at him. It felt like one of those nightmares—the kind that wouldn’t let him sleep, where he’d wake up gasping, knowing he’d lost someone else he couldn’t bear to lose.
Huff.
Huff.
Tears blurred his vision, hot streaks running down his cheeks. He wiped them away with a shaky hand, but they kept falling. “This is—” he choked, his words cutting off as he reached her door. He froze. Through the small window, he could see her.
She was awake. Sitting up.
His breath hitched. She wasn’t hooked up to all those machines, looking pale and lifeless like usual. No. She was sitting there, eyes wide, and... smiling.
He didn’t expect this. Most of his visits were spent watching her sleep, drained from endless treatments, barely clinging to life. But now? Now, she looked... alive. Too alive. A kind of energy he hadn’t seen in months radiated off her. It didn’t make sense.
Lucas pushed the door open, the sound heavy in the quiet.
She turned to him, her smile brighter than anything in that sterile, gray room. She looked straight into his eyes like she had been waiting for him all this time, like she had so much to say and not nearly enough time to say it.
Huff.
Huff.
“BROTHER!” she called out, her voice weak but still holding onto that smile.
Lucas froze, his heart caught between breaking and bursting. He didn’t know how to handle this—her sitting there, happy, like everything was okay. But he didn’t want it to end. Not this moment. Not her like this. Without thinking, he rushed to her, wrapping her in a hug so tight it felt like he was trying to hold her to the world itself.
The tears came hard, soaking into her back as he clung to her. He tried to stop, tried to wipe them away, but it was useless. They just kept coming. “I’m sorry,” he choked out.
“Why, brother?” she asked, her voice soft but curious. “Do you have another painting or letter for me today?”
Letters and paintings.
That’s what he always brought her. Every visit, without fail. Letters about his week—little pieces of his world she couldn’t be part of anymore. And the paintings, glimpses of a life she might never see again. Sunsets. Beaches. Skies filled with colors she only saw through his brushstrokes. They weren’t much, just scraps of his love bundled in paper and paint, but to her, they were everything. She felt it in every line, every word.
“Oh,” Lucas said, his voice steadier now as he pulled back, wiping the last of his tears. “I brought those, but I’ve got something more this time.” A grin broke through, something rare and genuine.
His excitement was almost unrecognizable. Lucas wasn’t this guy—He was laid-back, chilled to a fault, always the one who shrugged things off. But here, now, with her smiling at him like she was some kind of blessing, something inside him came alive.
And for once, he did feel like breathing alive again.