🎬 SCENE — 1 WEEK LATER | PRIVATE CLINIC HALLWAY
Janet walked quietly through the hallway,
a small plastic envelope of vitamins in hand.
Nothing serious. Just routine.
As she passed one of the rooms —
the door was slightly ajar.
She glanced in.
Then stopped.
---
Inside, sitting at the edge of the clinic bed —
Clint.
Still. Quiet.
One arm resting on his knee, head lowered, eyes closed.
A cold pack wrapped around his wrist.
The nurse scribbled notes on a clipboard nearby.
He didn't notice her.
---
Janet stood there.
Watching.
Not panicking.
Not asking anything.
Just… smiling.
> "Weird. Nandito rin pala siya…"
She let out a small laugh.
> "Grabe. Ganyan pa rin siya. Tahimik."
She tilted her head slightly, amused.
> "He looks like he's just napping… or maybe hiding."
---
Clint opened his eyes.
Looked toward the door —
and their eyes met.
Janet blinked.
Paused.
Then smiled again.
Small. Soft.
Not flirty.
Just… friendly.
Clint didn't smile back.
But he didn't look away either.
He just stared —
for two seconds.
Then slowly turned his gaze to the wall.
---
Janet held the envelope a little tighter.
Still smiling as she walked away.
> "Ang tahimik mo pa rin…"
"Pero parang mas gusto kong marinig ka araw-araw."
---
🎬 CLINT'S POV — INSIDE THE CLINIC
He glanced again toward the door.
Gone.
But that smile…
> "She's cute."
Then he looked away.
> "Pero anong silbi?"
"Makitungo pa sa tao…"
"…kung paalis ka na rin naman."
---
> Fade to black.
🎬 SCENE – SCHOOL HALLWAY | LUNCH BREAK
The hallway echoed with laughter.
Janet and her two friends were playfully chasing each other —
screaming, bumping into lockers like kids in a playground.
> Janet:
"Hoy! Ang daya mo! Balik mo 'yung keychain ko!"
She ran after her friend, laughing breathlessly.
Students moved aside —
some annoyed, some amused.
> "Uy, ang kulit na naman ng mga 'to."
---
Then it happened.
Her shoe caught a plastic wrapper.
She slipped — just enough.
> Thud.
Down on one knee.
Not bad.
Just… ridiculous-looking.
---
Her friends paused.
Then—
> "HAHAHA! Janet, ang dulas mo!"
"Buti hindi tumalsik 'yung palda mo!"
Laughter echoed louder than the fall itself.
A few students nearby chuckled.
Some stared.
Some ignored.
But not all.
---
Clint, standing by the corner with a drink in hand, saw the whole thing.
He didn't laugh.
But a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
Small. Barely there.
A blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of smile.
> "Dulas."
"Sobrang kulit pa rin niya."
---
Janet looked up.
Brushed imaginary dust from her skirt.
Eyes scanned the hallway—
Then landed on him.
She saw it.
That tiny smile.
The one he probably didn't mean to show.
Her heart skipped.
Just once.
She smiled back.
No wave.
No comment.
Just a quiet, shared moment
in the middle of chaos.
🎬 MIDNIGHT — CLINT'S POV | HOUSE ROOFTOP
The sky was dark.
Stars barely visible.
City lights flickered far below — distant, blinking reminders that the world keeps going.
The wind was cold.
Not harsh.
Just enough to feel real.
Clint sat on the rooftop.
Hood over his head.
Knees pulled close.
Arms draped loosely over them.
Eyes locked on the sky —
Like he was counting how many more nights he'd get.
---
Then the voice came back.
> 🎞️ [Doctor's voice — echoing from memory]
> "360 days, Clint."
"No cure. No way to stop it."
"So… make the most of the days you've got."
"Don't waste them being sad. Just make memories. Something you can carry… before you go."
---
Back to now.
Clint blinked.
His eyes shimmered.
No sobs.
Just the kind of breaking that doesn't ask for help.
One tear.
Then another.
He wiped his face once — no drama, no pause.
Then breathed out. Long. Slow.
> Clint (inner voice):
"May point nga siya…"
"Anong silbi ng iyak… kung hindi ko rin naman kayang baguhin?"
He looked back up at the sky.
Same stars.
Same wind.
But his face?
Still tired.
Still quiet.
But now…
there was something else.
> A spark.
Small.
Weak.
But alive.
---
> Fade to black.
🎬 SCENE — MORNING | CLINT'S ROOM
> [Alarm ringing.]
ZZZZZ ZZZZZ ZZZZZ!
Clint, half-asleep, bolts upright —
eyes wide, breath sharp.
> Clint:
"Sht. Sht. It's already 8—
F*ck, I'm already late!"
---
He jumps out of bed.
Shirt — on.
Toothbrush — rush mode.
Bag. Shoes. Keys.
Door.
His movements?
Different.
Not dragging.
Not heavy.
> He's alive. Moving. Awake.
Like something lit a fire under him.
---
INT. LIVING ROOM — SECONDS LATER
He rushes past the table.
> Mom (from the kitchen):
"Clint!! Late ka na! Mag-almusal ka muna bago pumasok!"
He spins around —
quick glance, fast words, moving before he can think.
> Clint:
"Thank you, Mom!
But I'm super late!"
He leans in —
kisses her cheek.
Gone.
Door slams.
---
His mom freezes.
Spoon in hand.
Eyes wide.
Blank stare at the frying pan.
> Mom (softly):
"He said thank you… and kissed me?"
A beat.
She smiles.
Small.
Surprised.
But warm —
like the morning just gave her something she wasn't expecting.
---
EXT. STREET — MOMENTS LATER
Clint running.
Bag swinging.
Breath fast.
But this time — he's not dragging the day behind him.
He's chasing it.
> Clint (in his head):
"Let's make memories."
🎬 JANET POV — BUS STOP, MORNING
She adjusted the strap of her bag
as she made her way toward the stop.
The sun wasn't too hot yet.
Just enough light to make everything feel normal.
Then — she saw him.
Clint.
Leaning casually against the pole.
One hand in his pocket.
Earphones in — but not nodding to any beat.
Just… standing.
> "Oh?"
Her pace slowed a little.
> "Aga niya ah... hindi ba late riser 'to?"
---
Clint noticed her.
He pulled one earphone off.
Turned slightly.
> Clint:
"Hai. Good morning."
And then — he smiled.
Not wide.
Not flashy.
But real.
Soft.
Unexpected.
He looked away after saying it.
Like it was nothing.
---
Janet blinked.
Her step paused — half a second.
> "Wait… did he just say good morning?"
She stared at his profile.
Still calm. Still quiet.
But…
> "Sino 'to?"
"Bakit parang hindi siya 'yung Clint kahapon… o last week?"
Her fingers brushed her chest lightly — instinct, maybe.
And for some reason…
she smiled too.
Even if he didn't see it.
> "Weird ka pa rin."
"Pero gusto ko 'yang ngiti mo ngayon."
---
The bus arrived.
They both stepped in.
Two silent people
with one quiet second
that neither fully understood
—but somehow… felt anyway
(Blackscreen fade)