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Borrowed Light

Borrowed Light

Mrsa
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
Alex Reyes, a brilliant but perpetually broke third-year Computer Science student at the University of the Philippines Diliman, survives on scholarships, part-time tutoring, and instant noodles in a cramped Quezon City boarding house. His closest friend is Mateo “Teo” Villanueva, the charming, effortlessly wealthy heir to a real-estate and logistics fortune. Teo’s generosity is genuine—he offers Alex rides, meals, crash pads in his BGC penthouse, even casual loans—but every gesture quietly reinforces the chasm between their worlds. Alex accepts these kindnesses with gritted smiles, all while a slow-burning envy takes root: not just of Teo’s money, but of the ease with which he moves through life, the effortless charm that draws people (including their mutual crush, Mara Santos, a sharp-witted philosophy major) toward him like gravity. At first, Alex keeps the resentment buried beneath gratitude and self-deprecating humor. He tells himself Teo is oblivious, not cruel; that their friendship is real despite the imbalance. But as senior year intensifies—scholarship deadlines loom, job interviews demand polish Alex can’t afford, and Mara begins spending more time in Teo’s orbit—the envy sharpens into something hungrier. Small transgressions follow: Alex “borrows” Teo’s designer jacket for an important presentation, uses Teo’s name to get into exclusive networking events, lingers longer at the penthouse when Teo is away. Each step blurs the line between borrowing and taking. The tension escalates when a prestigious tech internship—Alex’s ticket out of financial precarity—comes with a catch: it requires connections Teo already has. When Teo casually “helps” by pulling strings, Alex feels both rescued and diminished, the favor another reminder that he can never truly earn his place. Mara, sensing the fracture, draws closer to Alex in private moments, offering the intimacy Teo’s world can’t replicate. For the first time, Alex glimpses a life where he might be chosen first—not as a charity case, but as himself. But envy, once fed, grows insatiable. Alex begins to mimic Teo more deliberately: adopting his mannerisms, his slang, even his social media aesthetic. He engineers situations to spend time alone with Mara, rationalizing it as protecting her from Teo’s careless privilege. Teo, still trusting, notices the changes but attributes them to stress or ambition. The breaking point arrives during a lavish family event at the Villanueva estate, where Alex—now wearing Teo’s clothes, speaking Teo’s lines—crosses an irreversible threshold. A deception unravels, exposing not just Alex’s actions but the depth of his resentment. In the aftermath, friendships fracture, loyalties are tested, and Alex must confront whether the life he covets is worth the person he’s becoming. Borrowed Lights is a taut, psychologically acute coming-of-age story about class, identity, and the corrosive power of envy in modern Manila. It asks how far one will go to feel equal—and what remains when the mask of friendship finally slips.
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Chapter 1 - The View from the 27th Floor

ALEX REYES...

I used to think envy was something dramatic, like a green monster clawing out of your chest in cartoons. Turns out it's quieter. It's standing in an elevator made of polished brass and rosewood, smelling faintly of bergamot and money, while your best friend swipes a black card that doesn't even beep—just whispers approval. It's the way the numbers climb past 15, 20, 25 without stopping, and you realize most people's entire lives fit inside floors lower than this one.

Teo leaned against the mirrored wall, scrolling through his phone, sneakers squeaking on marble. "You sure you don't want to crash here tonight? There's an extra room. Bed's already made."

"I'm good," I said. "Got an 8 a.m. lab."

He glanced up, eyes narrowing the way they did when he sensed bullshit. "Your boarding house is forty minutes away in traffic. And it's raining like the sky's pissed off."

"I'll take the LRT."

He laughed—short, disbelieving. "With that ancient laptop bag that looks like it's about to give birth to a bomb? Come on, man."

The elevator opened onto the 27th floor of The Residences at BGC. No hallway smell of adobo or wet laundry here. Just silence and indirect lighting that made everything look expensive even when it wasn't moving.

Teo's unit was corner, floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides. Manila glittered below like someone had spilled a box of broken Christmas lights across the city. I dropped my backpack by the door like it might stain the hardwood.

"Beer?" he asked, already heading to the fridge that could probably fit my entire monthly grocery budget.

"Water's fine."

He tossed me a bottle anyway—glass, imported sparkling, the kind that costs more than my daily allowance. I caught it one-handed and pretended the label didn't make me flinch.

We ended up on the sectional sofa that probably cost more than my tuition for the semester. Teo kicked off his shoes and stretched like a cat. "So Mara's coming to the thing tomorrow night. The rooftop launch party at my dad's new hotel in Makati."

I nodded, keeping my face neutral. Mara. Philosophy 101. Long black hair she always tucked behind one ear when she was thinking. The kind of girl who read Foucault for fun and still laughed at Teo's dumb jokes. We'd been orbiting each other for months—group chats, late-night study sessions in the library, once a shared umbrella during a sudden downpour. Nothing official. Nothing yet.

He tossed me a bottle anyway—glass, imported sparkling, the kind that costs more than my daily allowance. I caught it one-handed and pretended the label didn't make me flinch.

We ended up on the sectional sofa that probably cost more than my tuition for the semester. Teo kicked off his shoes and stretched like a cat. "So Mara's coming to the thing tomorrow night. The rooftop launch party at my dad's new hotel in Makati."

I nodded, keeping my face neutral. Mara. Philosophy 101. Long black hair she always tucked behind one ear when she was thinking. The kind of girl who read Foucault for fun and still laughed at Teo's dumb jokes. We'd been orbiting each other for months—group chats, late-night study sessions in the library, once a shared umbrella during a sudden downpour. Nothing official. Nothing yet.

"You should come," Teo said. "She's been asking if you'd be there."

My stomach did something unpleasant. "I have a shift at the coding bootcamp. Grading beginner projects."

"Lame excuse. Skip it. Or come after. I'll send a car."

There it was again—the casual solution. Send a car. Like it was nothing. Like everyone had a driver on speed dial.

"I said I'm good."

He studied me for a second, then shrugged. "Suit yourself. But you're missing out. Open bar, skyline view, probably some influencer trying to do a TikTok on the infinity pool."

I forced a laugh. "Sounds like my natural habitat."

He grinned, oblivious. "Exactly. You'd hate it and secretly love it."

We played FIFA for an hour—him destroying me as usual because he could afford the latest console and I was still using a second-hand PS4 that sounded like a dying lawnmower. Every time he scored he whooped and slapped my shoulder, and I smiled like it didn't sting that even in a virtual stadium I couldn't win.

Later, when he went to take a call from his mom, I wandered to the window. The city looked smaller from up here. Manageable. Like you could reach down and rearrange the traffic if you felt like it.

My phone buzzed. A GC notification from our blockmates.

Mara: Anyone free tomorrow? Need someone to quiz me on Kant before the party 🥹

Teo (almost instantly): I'll be there. Bring Alex if you can convince him.

Me: Working. Rain check?

Mara: Boo. Next time then. Don't work too hard, Alex Reyes.

I stared at the message until the screen dimmed. She used my full name. The way people do when they're teasing, or when they like you enough to remember it.

Teo came back, tossing his phone on the couch. "Mom says hi. Wants to know when you're coming over for dinner again. She keeps talking about your adobo recipe."

"Tell her next month. Finals are killing me."

He flopped down beside me. "You know you can ask me, right? For anything. Tuition top-up, rent, whatever. No strings."

The words landed like a slap wrapped in velvet.

I looked at him—really looked. Designer hoodie, perfect teeth, the kind of skin that had never known a summer without air-conditioning. He meant it. He really did. And that was the worst part. He thought offering money was friendship. He didn't see how every time he did it, a little piece of me shrank.

"I'm fine," I said. "Really."

He searched my face, then nodded slowly. "Okay. But the offer stands."

I left twenty minutes later. He insisted on calling the Grab himself, paying in advance. I sat in the back seat watching the towers recede in the rain-streaked window, the city folding itself back into its normal, messy shape.

That night in my boarding-house room—single bulb flickering, neighbor's karaoke bleeding through the wall—I opened my laptop and stared at the bank app. Balance: ₱4,872.14.

Teo's black card probably didn't even show the numbers. They just turned green when he wanted them to.

I thought about Mara laughing at his jokes tomorrow night. Thought about the rooftop, the lights, the view I would never earn.

And for the first time, the envy stopped feeling like guilt.

It started feeling like hunger.

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