10:30 AM.
It was almost lunch break.
Not a single soul of an instructor had made an appearance. No shadow. No whisper.
Ghosted.
But since they weren't officially dismissed, they technically weren't allowed to go home either. So, the class reached a silent consensus: Lunch break outside the room.
The class dismissed itself. Some stayed to chat, others went out.
Jiro stood up to complete a minor side quest: Trash Disposal. He walked out to the hallway, tossed a wrapper into the bin located just a few steps away from the doorway of 407, and turned back.
As he moved back toward the room, right beside the DOWN ONLY staircase, he bumped into a classmate.
It was Nica Rosa. She looked mature, approachable, and kind—carrying her lunch packed in a practical eco bag.
Jiro hesitated. Social interaction. Level 1 again.
"Uh, going down for lunch?" he asked shyly.
"Yeah," Nica smiled, adjusting her bag. She was with her own circle. "We're going to eat."
"Ah, okay. Thanks," Jiro mumbled.
He slipped back into Room 407. The door was wide open.
Inside, he found his new Circle of Friends... busy.
Mira, Niewi, Ivyn, Cosma, and two other girls were gathered around their armchair seats, but they weren't studying. They were in the middle of a full-blown beauty session.
Mirrors were out. Lip tints were being passed around like contraband. Blush brushes were flying. Highlighters were being applied with surgical precision.
Oh, seriously? Jiro thought, watching them. Is this a beauty pageant or a lunch break?
He went back to his seat to retrieve his own baon (lunch pack). As he zipped his bag, Niewi and Mira popped up behind him.
"Jiro, come with us!" Niewi chirped. "Tara, let's eat at the Cafeteria."
Jiro paused. Eating talks part 2. New COF. We are seven again.
"Okay," he agreed.
They grabbed their lunch packs—mostly plastic containers inside eco bags, matching Jiro's aesthetic—and headed out.
They took the DOWN ONLY staircase to the first floor.
The ground floor hallway was a runway of mismatched ambitions. They navigated through a sea of students. There were the BSN freshmen mixed with crisp white uniforms or white shirts and denim pants. There were the few remaining BS Psychology students in their distinct white uniforms—the survivors of a phasing-out course. And then, the swarm of COE students in their distinct but uneven shades of blue.
They passed the familiar landmarks again: Science Laboratory merged with the Accreditation Room. Director's Office. The open hallway leading to the Gym. Faculty Room. Guidance Office.
And then... the Clinic.
Wait.
The sign "Nurse is Out" was gone. The lights were on!
Finally! The nurse exists!
But oops. No person yet.
So, still inaccessible. Nice.
They passed the HRM Office, the GAD/OPA Office, and finally the Boy's Restroom at the extreme end.
They navigated the left wing of the building, dodging students until they hit the extended corridor leading to the Cafeteria.
To their left, running along the path, was a fence.
And by "fence," Jiro meant a masterpiece of DIY engineering.
It was made of fishnets, scrap metal, bamboo poles, rusty wire, and even random sheets of corrugated iron roofing. It looked less like a campus boundary and more like a barricade in a zombie survival game.
On the other side of this aesthetic disaster was the Elementary School.
The noise was different there—high-pitched screaming, running, chaos. Kids were queuing up to enter classrooms while others were being guided out by teachers.
One merged campus. Two different worlds.
On one side: A four-story college building with parking lots and teenage angst.On the other: A two-story elementary building with colorful posters and pure, unadulterated energy.
Navigating the hallway with the background noise of children screaming beside the fence, they finally reached their destination.
The Cafeteria.
It looked... quaint. Like a small, white-painted house stuck in the corner of the lot.
But as they got closer, reality set in.
Crowded.
They didn't even need to go inside. Through the gated windows and one open door, they could see every inch of space was occupied. Students were packed in tightly.
"Lah. No more seats, where we will eat then. Ugh…," Mira sighed.
"We Mira, uhh... we will buy food," Cosma said.
"Alright. We'll find a spot outside. We'll find a place." Niewi replied to the two.
"Okay!" Cosma agreed, diving into the crowd with Mira.
The remaining five stood there, holding their lunch bags, homeless for the hour.
They navigated the open, noisy hallway again, the high-pitched chatter of elementary students buzzing in the background like static noise.
Finally, they found an empty spot near the fence gate of the campus.
It was a table. Technically.
It was messy, covered in a layer of dirt and random debris. The seats were... unexplainable. They were long strips of wood welded to metal frames—fixed, immovable—topped with a damp, questionable rag-mat that looked like it had seen better decades.
"Ew, dirty," someone muttered.
They went into cleaning mode, brushing off the dead leaves and dust. Once the surface was somewhat acceptable, they prepared to sit.
But Jiro hesitated.
He looked at the seat. It still looked moist.
I am not putting my pants on that. No way.
He crouched down to the patch of soil just beside the concrete open-air corridor. He gathered a handful of large, dry fallen leaves.
He stood up and carefully arranged the leaves on his designated spot on the strip chair.
A DIY seat cover.
Nature's coaster.
He sat down on his leaf nest. The chair had no backrest, so his back was turned directly against the DIY fence. Behind him, the noise of teachers shouting instructions and elementary students screaming filled the air.
Surround sound chaos.
As he settled in, he felt eyes on him.
Ivyn, Niewi, and two other girls—Cicille Masha and Mona Patori—were staring at him.
Then, they burst out laughing.
"Hala? Really, Jiro?" Ivyn giggled, pointing at the leaves peeking out from under his legs. "You put leaves?"
"Ay, wow!" Cicille laughed, covering her mouth. "You are so... finicky!"
"It's damp," Jiro defended himself, adjusting his position. "I don't trust the rag."
They laughed harder. It was weird. It was definitely unusual. But somehow, it was acceptable.
It was ironic, though. Jiro was the only guy in their circle, the supposed "tough" STEM graduate, yet he was the one acting the most delicate about hygiene.
Whatever, Jiro thought, opening his lunch bag. At least my pants are dry.
At that moment, the two girls arrived.
Cosma and Mira emerged from the crowd, navigating the open hallway with the grace of waiters balancing trays.
"Finally!" Cosma announced, breathless but triumphant. "We bought our rice and ulam (viand)."
"Success!" Mira added, placing their loot on the table.
Cosma proudly displayed her purchase: Fried bologna. Five thin, red slices glistening with oil, paired with a cup of white rice.
"How much?" Niewi asked, inspecting the goods.
"Thirty-five pesos," Cosma replied. "Ten for the rice, twenty-five for the bologna. Budget meal, beh."
Mira showed off her haul: A burger steak swimming in gravy. "Thirty pesos for this. A bit expensive, right? I brought my own rice, so I saved ten pesos. Strategy."
"Oh, that's fine," Jiro nodded approvingly. Economic efficiency.
"Okay, wait!" Mira commanded, pulling out her phone. "Don't eat yet. Picture time. Baon reveal!"
It was a mandatory ritual. The Flat Lay.
They cleared the center of the table, pushing aside the dirt and the cleaning rags to make space for the main event. They arranged their containers with the precision of food stylists.
The Grid:
Top Left: Jiro's entry. Heavy glassware containing Asado (again) and cooked rice. Consistency is key.
Left Middle: Niewi's entry. Similar glassware featuring Fried Beef Loaf and rice. The breakfast-for-lunch special.
Left Bottom: Mona's entry. A plastic container housing a simple omelette and rice, complete with a plastic spoon. Classic.
Right Bottom: Cicille's entry. Two bright red hotdogs and rice in a plastic container. The kid's meal vibe.
Right Middle: Mira's entry. Just a plastic container of white rice, waiting for its partner.
Top Right: Cosma's entry. A humble paper plate with a cup of rice.
In the dead center of the formation, like a centerpiece, sat the paper plates containing Cosma's bologna and Mira's burger steak.
"Where are you, Mira?" Niewi asked, looking around the table.
"I'm taking the picture, duh!" Mira laughed, standing up on the bench to get the perfect overhead angle.
Click.
"Okay, done!" Mira hopped down. "Let's eat!"
"Thank you!" the group chorused.
They dug in, the mix of home-cooked meals and cafeteria grease fueling them for the rest of the day.
"Wait, Ivyn," Jiro asked, pausing with his spoon halfway to his mouth. "Where is your lunch?"
Ivyn waved her hand dismissively. "Ay, I didn't bring any. It's too heavy for the bag. Plus, I only eat a little anyway. Diet kuno."
"So... you're fasting?"
"No!" Ivyn laughed. She pulled her chair closer to Cicille. "I'll share with Cicille. We share the lunch."
Cicille rolled her eyes while giggling but shifted her plastic container to the center so they could both access the rice and the hotdog. "Yeah, yeah. Share."
But Ivyn's definition of "sharing" was... expansive.
She took a spoonful of Cicille's rice while pairing with a hotdog, then looked around the table with a predatory grin.
"Jiro," she said, making puppy eyes. "Can I have some viand? Just a taste."
Jiro sighed. The tax collector has arrived.
"Sure," he said, pushing a chunk of Asado toward her side of the table.
"Yay! Thanks!" Ivyn scooped it up.
Then, she turned to the others.
"Mona, can I have some omelette? Mira, burger steak? Niewi, Cosma, can I have some too!"
She went around the table like a buffet inspector, collecting tithes from every lunch box. A piece of omelette here, a slice of bologna there, a chunk of burger steak.
By the time she returned to Cicille's plastic container, her spoon was a mountain of diverse flavors.
Jiro watched her eat from Cicille's container while enjoying a sample platter of the entire group's menu.
Wow, he thought, impressed by the audacity. She didn't bring lunch, but she has the most variety.
Foodtrip, Ivyn?
While they ate, the atmosphere shifted. The hype energy of the "Baon Reveal" settled down, and the group's attention turned to the only mystery at the table.
Jiro.
It was the beginning. The inevitable Introduction Talks.
Mira swallowed a spoonful of rice and pointed her spoon at him. "So, Jiro... interview session."
The other girls leaned in, chewing quietly.
"Where did you come from?" Mira asked, her eyes curious. "And why are you late? Like, classes started last week, right? Why did you enroll just now?"
Jiro set his spoon down. He sat up straighter on his bed of leaves.
Script loaded. Rehearsed lines ready.
He cleared his throat. Ahem.
"Actually," Jiro began, keeping his voice steady. "I came from the Morong Campus. I was enrolled there first, Construction Tech."
"Hala? Morong?" Cosma gasped. "That's far!"
"Yeah," Jiro nodded. "The travel was draining. So, I requested a transfer here. Since I live in Taytay, it's more practical. But the processing... yeah, it took a while. That's why I'm late."
A perfect, sanitized version of the truth.
"Oh, makes sense," Ivyn nodded, impressed. "At least you're here now."
"But wait," Niewi interjected, looking at him curiously. "Construction Tech? Isn't that... like, a vocational course? More on labor?"
Jiro sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah. It's technically a workforce course. Honestly, I wasn't supposed to be there. I aimed for Civil Engineering."
"Oh! Engineering!" Ivyn exclaimed. "What happened?"
"I failed the entrance exam," Jiro admitted, dropping his gaze to his food. "And... awkwardly…. I also failed to attend the follow-up interview. So, I got referred to Construction Tech."
"Hala, that's a mess," Mira commented.
"True. And I didn't like the course at all," Jiro continued. "Too much work. Cement, hollow blocks... nah. Not for me. So I transferred to KSU Taytay."
"And ended up here in BEEd," Niewi finished.
"Yeah," Jiro nodded. Leaving out the BSED English typo tragedy.
"So," Mira narrowed her eyes playfully. "What was your strand in Senior High? STEM?"
"Yeah, STEM," Jiro confirmed.
"Weh?" Mira leaned in. "If you were STEM… what was your average in Grade 12 then? Come on… spill!"
Jiro hesitated. He looked at their expectant faces.
Should I downplay it?
No. They'll find out eventually.
"With High Honors," Jiro muttered, looking at their faces. "Average... 94.5."
The table went silent for a second. Even the elementary students screaming behind the fence seemed to fade out.
"Hala!" the girls chorused in unison.
"94.5?!" Mira's jaw dropped. "The heck! Wish I had that too! Hehehe."
"Wow," Niewi shook her head, looking at him with newfound respect. "You're basically a genius guy. Okay, confirmed. We have a brain in the group. Yay!"
"Smart and mysterious transferee hahaha," Ivyn teased. "Nice one."
Jiro shrank back into his seat, feeling the weight of their expectations settling on his shoulders.
Great, he thought. Now I have a reputation to maintain.
He leaned forward, deciding to gather more intel.
"So..." Jiro asked, looking at the group. "Have you guys actually met any professors yet? Like, in person?"
Niewi shook her head. "None yet. Not even a single one."
"But our adviser, Mr. Jimmy Brackin, already added us to the Group Chat," Mira explained, checking her phone. "And the Google Classroom too."
"For what subject?"
"Readings in Philippine History," Ivyn added.
"Okay," Jiro nodded. "But when will he show up?"
"We don't know," Mira shrugged, looking completely unbothered. "Maybe. No official schedule yet. So, chill-chill…. just chilling for now hahaha. We just wait until they show up."
"For two weeks?" Jiro clarified, his eyebrows shooting up.
"Yup," Cosma laughed, popping a piece of bologna into her mouth. "Two weeks of attendance and vibes."
Jiro stared at them. He was shocked. Impressed. And a little horrified.
"Good for you, just chill-chill," he muttered. "But... isn't that a waste? That's bad for the fare and baon. You come here every day just to sit and wait for nothing?"
"Ay, true," Niewi admitted, sighing. "But what can we do? We can't be absent."
"In Morong," Jiro said, recalling the trauma of the warehouse. "First day is first day. Boom. Professor immediately. Rules immediately. Stress immediately. No mercy."
The girls laughed at his intensity.
"Well," Mira grinned. "Welcome to Taytay! We take it slow here hahaha."
Just right after their first chat, lunch was officially over. The lunchboxes were empty, and the "Baon Reveal" was just a memory in their phone galleries.
"Tara, let's get our bags," Niewi suggested, standing up. "We can't leave them upstairs forever."
"Wait, pa-sabay," Cicille asked, looking too lazy to climb the stairs. "Can you bring our bags down too? Please?"
"Fine, fine," Ivyn agreed.
Niewi, Mira, Ivyn, and Jiro formed the retrieval team. They trekked back upstairs to the Fourth Floor—another round of PE activity—to Room 407.
As they arrived, the girls immediately started packing up. They grabbed their bags, slinging them over their shoulders, ready to bring everything down.
Jiro, however, had a different strategy.
He placed his lunch eco bag back onto his seat. Then, he unzipped his bag and fished out only the essentials: his wallet and the iconic red earphone pouch.
He zipped the bag back up and left it there on the armchair, along with his heavy tumbler.
I do not want to carry that Hulk bag for some reason, he decided. Unless the class is already over, that bag stays there. My shoulders are on strike.
"You're leaving it?" Mira asked.
"Yeah. Heavy," Jiro muttered.
They went back down to the first floor.
The moment they hit the ground floor, the girls made a beeline for the Girls' Restroom located at the extreme end of the Right Wing.
"Make-up time!" Niewi announced.
"Wait for us, Jiro!" Mira yelled.
Jiro followed them, stopping abruptly at the door.
Aye, aye, aye.
He stood awkwardly outside the entrance like a bodyguard who didn't get paid enough.
Huy... hahahaha. Why am I here?
Inside, through the open door, he could hear the chaos. It sounded like the backstage of a beauty pageant.
"Borrow me powder!" "Does this shade look okay?" "Friendship video later, guys! Look fresh!"
Friendship video, Jiro mused. We met two hours ago.
While his COF girls were busy reconstructing their faces for TikTok, Jiro turned around to face the hallway. He stared at the busy first floor, watching students pass by.
He leaned against the corridor fence, taking a deep breath of the humid air. His eyes wandered, analyzing the building's layout.
Then, he noticed something.
He looked at the door behind him. Girls' Restroom.
He looked up at the ceiling, imagining the layout above. There was a restroom on the second floor right wing (beside the Storage room). There was one on the third. And one on the fourth (beside their room).
Wait.
Every floor on the Right Wing has a restroom... mainly for girls.
He looked at the opposite end of the building—the Left Wing.
Boys' Restroom. Ground floor.
Is there one on the second floor? No. Third? No. Fourth? No.
His jaw tightened.
Whaaat.
The Boys' Restroom is ONLY on the first floor, in the extreme Left Wing.
He did the math.
My room is 407. Fourth Floor. Extreme Right Wing.
If I have to pee, I have to run down four flights of stairs, sprint across the entire length of the building to the opposite wing, do my business, sprint back, and climb four flights of stairs again.
Wow.
Absurd architecture.
Systematic flaw found.
Shortly after, the open door to the Girls' Restroom suddenly filled with noise as the makeover squad emerged, looking refreshed and camera-ready.
"Jiro!" Niewi called out, waving him over. "Tara na! Let's go back to our spot."
"Okay," Jiro muttered, pushing off the wall.
They navigated the busy ground floor hallway once again, weaving through the sea of students. It was 11:20 AM.
When they returned to their vicinity—the spot near the fence where they had eaten earlier—Jiro saw that the rest of the gang was already busy. Cosma, Mona, and Cicille were huddled together, mirrors out, applying the final touches of powder and lip tint.
Preparation for the Friendship Casual Video.
Serious business.
As soon as everyone was prepped, the content creation began. They started doing TikTok dances, laughing, and taking endless selfies. Jiro stood to the side, occasionally dragged into a frame watching the chaos with a mix of amusement and exhaustion.
By 12:10 PM, the sun was high and the energy began to dip.
"Tara, let's go up," Mira suggested. "The prof might come."
The Hike: Part Two.
They dragged themselves away from the ground floor and began the ascent back to Room 407. First floor. Second. Third. Fourth.
Leg day is everyday in this college.
They entered the room, breathless, and slumped into their seats. The classroom was still buzzing with noise, but the air was hotter now.
1:00 PM.
The afternoon heat inside Room 407 became stifling. The boredom was palpable.
"Tara, let's go out for a bit," Mira suggested, fanning herself. "It's too hot here. I'm bored."
"G!" Cosma, Ivyn, and Niewi agreed instantly.
The quartet migrated to the hallway. Outside, they unleashed their pent-up energy. They filmed TikTok dances, took endless selfies, and laughed loud enough to be heard through the open door. The hallway wasn't empty—other students from different sections and years were passing by or hanging out—but Mira's group didn't care. They were in their own world of content creation.
Inside the room, the vibe was lethargic.
Jiro stayed glued to his seat. He stared at his phone, earphones plugged in tight, letting the music build a wall against the afternoon slump.
At the back, Mona and Cicille stayed behind, opting not to join the hallway chaos. They sat together, talking quietly, conserving their energy.
The rest of the BEED 1-A cohort was a mix of idle animations. Some were sleeping with heads on armchair desks, others were clustered in groups playing mobile games, and the rest were just chatting to pass the time.
They waited.
And waited.
2:00 PM.
Jiro looked at the door and the hallway nearby. Not a single soul of an instructor had entered.
Boom. Ghosted.
The realization settled over the class like a heavy blanket. No one was coming. They had climbed the stairs for nothing.
By 3:30 PM, the class reached its breaking point. Without an official dismissal, students just started packing up. The room emptied out as the collective patience finally evaporated.
Jiro's circle gathered their things.
"Uy, let's take a picture!" Niewi announced. "Official circle photo for the Group Chat cover!"
They headed downstairs (easy mode) and walked out to the front facade of the campus building. The afternoon sun cast a warm, golden shade over the entrance.
They arranged themselves. Since there were seven of them, someone had to be in the center to balance the frame.
"Jiro, you in the middle," Mira commanded, pushing him into position.
Jiro stood there, surrounded by six girls in blue uniforms.
Wow. I am the princess.
They smiled at the camera. Jiro put on his best neutral-but-approachable face.
"One... two... three..."
Click.
END OF THE FRACTURED SELF