INT. ARVEN'S BEDROOM – MORNING
The alarm clock rings: 8:00 AM. Arven Solis groans and hits snooze. The shrill sound dies, leaving only the faint hum of a small electric fan spinning lazily in the corner. Sunlight leaks through thin curtains, cutting across the messy room filled with books, a computer desk, and posters of video game characters.
Arven: Great... I'm late again.
He drags himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes. His uniform hangs crumpled over the chair. He sniffs it, shrugs, and puts it on anyway. At the mirror, he tries to flatten his hair but gives up halfway.
He rushes to the bathroom, brushing his teeth so quickly that foam spills from his mouth. His reflection stares back—half-asleep, half-defeated. He spits, wipes his mouth with his sleeve, and hurries out.
He skips breakfast. His mother's voice calls faintly from the kitchen, but he's already slipping on his shoes.
Mother (offscreen): Arven, eat something first!
Arven: Later, Ma! Promise!
He grabs his backpack and bolts out the door.
EXT. STREET – MORNING
The city is awake. Vendors shout, students laugh, and jeepneys rattle past in clouds of smoke. The morning air smells of rice, oil, and gasoline. Arven squeezes through the crowd, phone in hand, checking the time.
He spots a waiting motorbike and waves frantically.
Arven: Sir, to the main street—fast, please!
He hops on. The driver nods and speeds through traffic. The bike weaves between buses, horns blaring on all sides. Arven grips the seat tightly, wind whipping through his hair.
They stop abruptly at a red light. Arven glances around—billboards flash, kids run with packed lunches, and workers sip coffee from paper cups. His city, noisy and alive.
When the light turns green, they surge forward again, cutting past a jeepney filled with students. After a few minutes, they reach the main road.
Arven pays quickly, muttering thanks, and runs off.
EXT. JEEPNEY STOP – MORNING
Dozens of people wait in line. Some scroll through phones, others yawn. Arven checks his watch anxiously—8:20.
Arven: Come on... just a few more minutes.
A jeepney finally arrives, already half-full. He squeezes inside, knees knocking against strangers, clutching the metal bar above his head. The driver turns up the radio; a pop song fills the cramped space.
The ride drags on. Traffic crawls. Arven stares out the window—billboards, vendors, kids playing on sidewalks—all blurring past. He drums his fingers against his bag impatiently.
After 10 slow minutes, he hops off even before it fully stops and runs toward campus.
EXT. COLLEGE CAMPUS – MORNING
The Philippine national anthem plays. Students stand still in neat lines. Arven slows, places his hand over his chest, singing softly. His breath steadies. Once the anthem ends, he exhales and starts running again.
Basketballs bounce across the path. A janitor waters plants. The sound of laughter echoes through the hallways as Arven dodges through the crowd.
He rushes up the stairs two steps at a time, sweat forming on his forehead.
INT. CLASSROOM – MORNING
The door slides open. Arven slips in, trying to look casual but clearly late. His backpack bounces against his side. Laughter follows him.
At the front, May Valdez stands, holding a notebook. Her eyebrows lift.
May: You're late. What were you doing last night?
Arven freezes for a second, then scratches his neck awkwardly.
Arven: I was studying for physics.
May lightly taps the back of his head with the notebook.
May: We don't have physics this semester. You can continue.
The class chuckles. Arven grins sheepishly and slides into his seat beside her.
May has been his girlfriend for two years now. They met when Arven, then the student council president, helped her organize a charity event. She was quiet, devoted to her church, and serious about everything—until she met him. Together, they found a strange balance.
She smirks while pretending to write her notes. He nudges her lightly with his elbow. They exchange a silent smile.
INT. CLASSROOM – LATER
The teacher speaks at the board, chalk squeaking rhythmically. Arven stares blankly, lost in thought. His pen hovers above his notebook but doesn't move.
He thinks about things far beyond the lesson—about the future, the weight of choices, and what kind of person he's becoming.
Teacher: Arven Solis, can you answer the question?
Arven stares blankly, lost in thought.
Teacher: ARVEN SOLIS!
He blinks back to reality.
Arven: Oh sorry ma'am so the answer is... when we observe the problem from all angles, the solution lies in understanding the underlying principles, not just memorizing the steps.
The teacher nods, impressed. Students glance at each other, murmuring. Arven smirks faintly, but his thoughts drift again—beyond the classroom, beyond the ceiling.
EXT. CAMPUS CAFE – NOON
The smell of coffee and fried food fills the air. Arven and May sit across from each other, trays untouched. The soft chatter of other students hums around them.
May: I still think the Bible is clear on this point.
Arven: But if you read it this way... it could mean something else.
They lean closer, voices low but firm. It's not anger—just two worlds trying to understand each other. Arven gestures slightly, trying to explain. May shakes her head, amused.
Suddenly, laughter bursts from behind them.
John Ruver: Hey! What a nice game we had last night—we had a 5-game winstreak in MLBB!
John claps Arven on the shoulder. He's loud, always cheerful. They've known each other since senior high, partners in both class projects and mobile games.
May frowns.
May: So that's why you weren't sleeping early... playing games again?
Arven: Uh... maybe...
John laughs. May sighs, trying not to smile.
May: You're impossible.
Arven: But you still love me.
May: Unfortunately, yes.
They laugh. The tension melts.
INT. SCHOOL – AFTERNOON
The three walk down the hallway together, chatting as the bell rings.
John: Admit it, Arven, you carried that last game.
Arven (grinning): I just did my best. We all played well.
May shakes her head, teasing.
May: Next time, tell me before you stay up that late.
Arven: Okay, okay, I promise.
The next class begins. The teacher talks, but Arven's mind drifts again—away from grades, lectures, and laughter.
He stares at the window. Clouds drift lazily across the blue sky.
Where is this all taking me? After the noise, the effort, the long days... I still don't know.
EXT. SCHOOL GROUNDS – LATE AFTERNOON
Classes end. Students scatter across the courtyard, voices echoing. Arven and May walk together, sunlight brushing against their faces.
May: You really twist that verse too much, you know.
Arven: Maybe. But there's more than one way to read it.
They laugh softly. The breeze carries the scent of grass and dust. As they pass another building, a girl approaches—Grace Devereux, president of another section.
Grace's uniform is immaculate, her walk composed.
Arven: Hey Grace, sup?
Grace: Arven... What the hell do you want?
Arven: Nothing just saying hi.
Grace: Don't disturb me.
She glares at him, then turns sharply and walks away, shoulders stiff. Arven watches for a moment, feeling the chill of her disapproval.
May: She's mean, right?
Arven (chuckling): Haha... yeah, definitely.
May shakes her head, half-amused, half-annoyed. They continue walking, the tension from Grace fading as they laugh softly.
EXT. JEEPNEY STOP – EVENING
The sky glows orange. Arven and May wait together as a jeepney approaches with a loud screech.
They climb aboard, sitting side by side. The city passes by slowly through the window—shops closing, lights flickering on, kids playing on the sidewalk.
May (firmly): Arven, if you're going to play late, at least tell me. Update me. Don't leave me guessing.
Arven: Sorry. I will. I promise.
They share a quiet smile as the jeepney bumps along. When they reach her stop, Arven walks her home.
May: Bye. Be careful.
Arven: Bye, May. Goodnight.
They share a brief kiss. She enters her house, waving once before disappearing inside.
EXT. STREETS – NIGHT
The noise fades behind him. Arven walks alone under a dim sky. The stars are faint, hidden behind city lights. He kicks a small stone along the path, hands in his pockets.
The night air is cool, calm. His mind hums with questions.
Arven (thinking): Are any of this worth it? Do any of these things matter? A billion stars, or a trillion... yet here I am, cramming, learning, playing... for what?
He glances upward. The stars seem distant, almost unreachable.
He keeps walking. The hum of engines fades, leaving only the soft sound of his footsteps echoing down the street.
He feels small—but alive.
To be continued...