klausaberwarita

𝙡𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣.

“𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬?”

together, they are crouching down; staring at their masterpiece that is a failed attempt of baking birthday cake for their respectable friend, seroja. she's not gonna be happy with this one, that's for sure.

kumara hums lightly, and pokes the pitiful creation they just made. “it will work, somehow.”

raung laughs loudly at that. because judging at the state of the cake, it does not sound like that. from beneath his pretty eyelashes, he peeks curiously.

“mm, i have my doubts.” says him.

“do you trust me?”

𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. because raung does trust this boy with every inches of his beings. wholeheartedly, truthfully.

“i do,” raung says; eyes narrowing with worry. because his younger boyfriend can be bold and stupid sometimes, and today he does not want to find out the result of acting like both.

but then again, kumara is beaming. for seconds, raung forgets how to breathe. because the sun is bright but kumara and his confidence shines even brighter. the boy reaches out to intertwine their fingers and raung can't help but to smile back.

“that's the only thing i need, then.”

“huh?”

“you, trusting me.”

he can sense upcoming headache, honestly. but as kumara turns his head to plant a soft peck on the corner of his lips, he thinks he can let kumara do whatever he want just for the day.

𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣, 11.14 am.

𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙙 𝙍𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙨.

Universe is so vast, don't you think? Yet a little too tight in grasp; because I have spent my time wandering around, only to find you hidden in the middle of bushes. Safely tucked, just between wild roses. Blue, because love has odd colour in my mind. And thornless, because you're a tad bit more gentle than the rest.

Long, I had myself folding my legs just in front of you. Thinking about those chances I missed because eyes could be so blind yet heart could also be so kind. Thinking about those days where loosening grip had you losing me to another open palms. But wild roses are patient creature, and you had the guts of a steel one.

It's 2 AM, and you're running in my mind like you personally own it. But oh maybe, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦. All free, because you have long occupied every space of it.

𝘼𝙣𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣, 1.49 AM.

𝙎𝙪𝙜𝙖𝙧 𝙄𝙣 𝘼 𝘽𝙤𝙬𝙡.

Kamu, barangkali menyukai kopi pagimu seperti itu; hitam, lekat dan pekat seperti dosa-dosa yang dilaku pada penghujung hari. Aku dan tehku, ialah presensi tetap yang duduk di sebelahmu sembari bersedekap. Tak tampak, tetapi dekat. Sebab meski dunia terlihat seperti batang-batang rel kereta api yang sejajar namun tak pernah berkelindan,

jemarimu masih sanggup kudekap erat.

𝘼𝙣𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣, 12.49 PM.

𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙖𝙜𝙚.

memasak itu bukan bakat utama, sebetulnya. predikat itu lekat disandang oleh ‘membuat keributan’. tetapi kalau perkara menumis satu ikat kangkung untuk makan siang, 𝘴𝘪𝘩, kumara lumayan piawai. meski tidak mau juga kalau disuruh bertanggung jawab menyoal rasa yang tak sesuai selera perorangan. itu, masalah masing-masing saja.

siang itu tercecap damai. 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘪, untuk ukuran seorang kumara sebab raung belum mulai pula meneriakinya sumpah serapah. anak manis itu duduk dengan ponselnya; begitu sibuknya bermain gim di atas sofa. arah pandang terpaku sedemikian rupa, hingga kumara rasakan bibit rasa cemburu menggelegak di antara rongga dadanya.

tetapi kumara memang anak baik nan penyabar. dia tidak masalah wara-wiri sendirian di dapur mereka; mengupas bawang merah, lantas mengiris cabai rawit sebanyak perut raung sanggup mewadahinya kelak. asal yang lebih tua tidak habiskan waktu menjolok-jolok kepalanya dengan komentar pedas tidak berperikemanusiaan, dia takkan bikin ulah. 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘬𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨.

maka, setelah penggorengan panas telah terisi sayuran, kumara beringsut mendekat. dilihatnya si kesayangan masih bertengger di tempat yang sama, dengan dahi terlipat berkerut-merut. agak lucu, sebetulnya. kalau saja atensi yang dimau sedang tertuju padanya, dan bukan seonggok gim di tangan.

“kak, coba deh kecium nggak? wangi nggak?”

masih setia menatap layar ponselnya, raung menjulurkan leher sekenanya untuk menanam satu kecup di ujung bibir milik kumara. singkat, terkesan tidak peduli amat. tetapi cukup untuk membuat kumara berdiri kaku dengan spatula di tangan. padahal melipir kemari, maksud utamanya 𝘣𝘶𝘬𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘵𝘶.

“wangi. kamu habis mandi?”

“... tumis kangkungnya.”

raung menekan ikon berhenti pada gimnya, dan menoleh lamat-lamat. jelas tidak mengerti. kelopak mata peneduh manik-maniknya yang bulat, mengerjap bak anak rusa. “tadi minta cium? wangi kok kamu.”

kumara mengangkat ibu jarinya kikuk; mengarah pada dapur milik bersama, tempatnya berkutat dengan penggorengan sepanjang waktu luangnya hari ini. “iya, coba itu wangi kangkungnya kecium atau enggak sampai ke sini? soalnya di dapur udah enak banget tunggu matang ....”

“oh,” raung mengerang ketika pemahaman akhirnya mengendap di kepala. “𝘰𝘩.”

“well,” kumara menyeringai, “𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 clearly 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.”

kedua manik matanya membola, lantas raung merona-rona; merah-merah itu, naik merasuk hingga ke daun telinga. inilah mengapa, sedang fokus menggebuki musuh ini jangan disuruh aneh-aneh dulu.

“tapi kalau dapat cium, ya, masa mau ditolak?”

satu bantal sofa, melayang tepat kena tengkuk kumara. anak itu minggat ke dapur dengan terkikik-kikik, sedang raung ditinggalkan dengan rasa malu yang memandikan setiap senti kulitnya. penuh-penuh, memampatkan dada.

“kamu,” raung memulai. ponselnya sudah temukan tempat merebah di atas meja. tampaknya ini akan jadi siang yang panjang; dilewati dengan gelut yang tidak berkesudahan. “belum pernah kutabok pakai sandal, ya?”

gema tawa milik kumara, bergemuruh 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘢.

𝙨𝙝𝙪𝙪𝙮𝙖, 8.51 am.

𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙮.

raining season is never really raung's favorite; for the cold it brings that creeps up his feet, and the lonely that settles deep inside his chest. heavy, never meant to get lifted easily. empty, always meant to get filled with tears.

today, too, has rendered him into being an emotionless lump of a body; lying across his bed like a soulless little boy in need of extreme warmth provided by the sun itself. happy thoughts are always welcomed, yet the darkest ones are occupying his head at the moment. slowly dragging his hand down, and down. deeper, and deeper. entering the state he hates the most because none ever managed to pull him out before.

“you look dead.” kumara says from where he stand against the door; arms crossing across his chest, as his eyebrow rises up with questions raung knows he can't answer ... 𝘺𝘦𝘵.

“maybe i am.”

“am i in heaven, then?”

raung sighs, and closes his eyes. they're still wet with his previous tears, and he wipes them off with the back of his hand. kind of not wanting kumara to see the lowest part of him, maybe.

“i assume you need a cup of ice cream.”

“maybe tomorrow.”

he hears kumara's footsteps; echoing thorough his bedroom's walls, and feels his heart steps on the aching part of his soul.

“oh no,” kumara whispers. raung can feel the boy's dry lips touches the side of his head, and he opens his soaked orbs. the sight that greets him, is kumara and his concerned facade.

“i think you need a whole tube of ice cream.”

“tomorrow.”

it's final, and kumara nods. all understanding like the angel he is. funny how he called raung an angel, when he behaves like one most of the times. this, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘭𝘺.

“want to share?”

raung stares as seconds passes in complete silence. this time, though, the quiet air does not scare him away. it's comforting. like a fresh baked cookies in the morning.

raung exhales. “it's ugly.”

but kumara simply takes his hand, and wraps his own around his trembling palm. his voice is soothing when his words seeps slowly into his ears. like the first day of spring, like the delicate way of the leaf fall during the autumn. “doesn't seem so in my eyes.”

and yet, raung is just a boy covered in fears; for trusting one can become so tiring, he chooses to shrink. doubt, can be seen across his pretty orbs. one he would cast when he glance towards strangers in his classroom. one he would sport on whenever someone try to knock into his heart.

“𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘦?”

about the ugly truth that is his twisted head; always running round and round, circling over things that's 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘺.

kumara hums lowly. raung takes a quick peek at his furrowed eyebrows, and thinks he looks cute that way. “that you're the most beautiful soul i have ever encountered? yeah, plenty.”

“no,” raung frowns. “not that.”

kumara kisses the tip of his fingers. the pace he takes is slow, like he's tending a fragile bouquet of flowers. each petals needs to be held carefully. no knuckles is safe from his lips. and when he looks up to nuzzle against his palm, kumara does actually listen. his eyes are as kind as ever; encouraging him further.

but raung still is, a coward of a boy. maybe next time, then. because he's a selfish bastard like that; knowing kumara won't press, because he's a patient man with a heart so forgiving and vast. raung decides for a safe answer instead.

“have you ever thought of going to swim with me?”

kumara pecks his eyelid. almost like a mother would give upon blessing her children good night. “do you want to go next weekend?”

“what if i drown?”

𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦?

“i can swim.”

“but i can not.”

“and who says i'm gonna leave you behind?”

one look. it only takes one look; long enough to consider his life, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮. square on the mouth, like he has imagined it all those restless nights. like the way kumara deserves in every rights. because he smells like home, and raung holds him dear next to his heart.

𝙨𝙝𝙪𝙪𝙮𝙖, 8.14 pm.

𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚.

mereka memiliki rutinitas yang sama ketika sabtu tiba; satu, yang tercipta ketika garis takdir mereka memutuskan untuk berkelindan lewat sejarah panjang bersama mbak dana. kecelakaan dua tahun lalu, dan proses alot untuk melepaskan perempuan itu untuk selamanya. raung, dan keping-keping hatinya yang berserakan bak sampah plastik ibukota. lalu, kumara dan genggam tangan yang menolak mengendur meski hampir binasa. itu cerita lama, tetapi setiap titian langkahnya ialah sesuatu yang akan disimpan di kepala mereka lama.

“bunga mawar? atau anyelir?”

sabtu adalah hari keramat untuk mereka. begitu pentingnya, begitu sakral. sebab pada hari sabtu kumara mengemudikan mobilnya untuk menjemput ibu di pasar lama, dan berakhir mengantar mbak dana tiba pada pusaranya. sabtu, ialah awal dari segalanya.

“apapun,” kumara menyahut. jemarinya menyentuh kelopak bunga matahari, dan memaku tatap di sana lamat-lamat.

“kalau bunga tulip?”

pada hari sabtu, pula, kumara jatuh cinta. sebab sulit untuk tidak memperhatikan anak itu; duduk di sisi pagar area pemakaman dengan sebatang bunga matahari di tangan. mendung kentara menghujani pundak, ketika anak itu mendongak untuk membalas sapa yang dia lontarkan. lantas, pada dalamnya manik mata, kumara memutuskan untuk terjun dan bersemayam di sana.

“kupikir mbak dana nggak bakal protes, gula-gula.”

raung merona hingga ke tulang pipinya. kumara dan segudang panggilan sayang yang tak pernah terdengar biasa, memang bajingan sangat. “apa, sih?”

raung meneriakinya bodoh pada hari sabtu, pun. ketika dia memutuskan untuk menyerah tetapi dunia masih teramat sayang padanya. sebab raung melepas belenggu yang merantai kakinya, lantas berlari-lari untuk menyambut lengannya; mbak dana telah diikhlaskan kepergiannya, dengan tekad untuk membuka lembar baru bersama.

“... kamu kenapa kayak tomat rebus gitu?”

“krisan.” raung berdecak dan memalingkan muka. jauh-jauh dari brengsek tengik ini memang perlu kalau masih ingin hidup lama dengan detak jantung yang tak dipacu saban harinya. ditatapnya itu pot-pot kembang berbeda varian. lantas sembarang mengacung pada bebungaan. “kamu pilih yang mana, deh? bingung.”

pada hari sabtu, kumara memutuskan akan merengkuh raga ringkih itu lekat di dalam peluknya; ketika raung sedang tertekan, ketika raung sedang membisu. ketika raung sedang tertawa, ketika raung sedang memamerkan gigi-giginya. ketika raung sedang berduka, ketika raung sedang gembira.

“𝘪 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”

raung menoleh dengan satu alis tertukik naik. jelas tak mendengar, tetapi bukan masalah. kumara masih punya waktu untuk membisikinya apapun. 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘶𝘯. “apa?”

kumara tertawa; jenis yang dikumandangkan kencang hingga terbitlah bulan sabit dari sudut-sudut matanya. agaknya, begitu menyukai rasa bingung yang kentara tampak berenang di bola-bola mata milik raung dengan bebasnya. ah, anak itu memang lucu. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰.

“bunga matahari satu tangkai, berapa?”

“nggak tahu.” raung meningkahi ketus. “tanya mbaknya dong. masa tanya aku?”

kumara pikir, 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘢 𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘬 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘢𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘵𝘬𝘢𝘯.

𝙨𝙝𝙪𝙪𝙮𝙖, 10.10 am.

𝙄 𝙉𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙙.

It's quite funny, how I sit still on my bench and listen to your rambling; this time, about that universe of yours. Full of stars, and yet I still fail to find myself among them. Maybe because my light is too dim for you to even notice. I, did not shine bright enough for you to steal a glance.

But that's okay, 𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴.

Maybe, because I never once mind about the love you spew out about. I'd rather swim in the depth of your eyes than to dwell in the sea of sadness that come along the way.

Maybe, because of how the light cast a halo above your head. You're beautiful, that's a fact, but the sun truly love you just as much as the rain love the plants.

𝘼𝙣𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣, 8.23 PM

𝗦𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗜𝘁𝘂, 𝗠𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗶𝗻 𝗔𝗸𝘂 𝗝𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗵 𝗖𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗮 𝗣𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗺𝘂.

Sore itu, kamu sibuk duduk di bawah pohon ketapang. Sendiri berteman satu buku yang niatnya hendak kamu baca untuk membunuh waktu sampai pukul tiga. Di lapangan basket, pacarmu sedang sibuk unjuk pesona pada kaum hawa; kamu terkikik kecil, sebab hafal tabiat nakalnya di luar kepala. Bima dan kumpulan penggemarnya, sudah melegenda ke mana-mana.

“Teh Jani!”

Dengar suaranya, kamu segera tolehkan kepala. Itu dia, tetangga manis yang menghuni rumah di samping milik keluarga. Asanka, satu tahun terpaut lebih muda, dan kerap mengekorimu sejak usianya masih terhitung tiga.

“Bayi!”

Asanka, melipir mendekat dengan senyum sumringah. Lebar, hingga gigi-giginya kelihatan. Tungkainya yang panjang, tampak lucu dibawa jalan cepat. Agak terlihat seperti bayi rusa. Meski Asanka tak pernah mau disama-samakan.

“Panas, ya?”

Mengenang lembabnya kulitmu yang tertimpa baskara, kamu mengangguk saja. Asanka menelengkan kepala, barangkali menelisik butir-butir yang kurang ajar jatuh melintasi pipimu. Entah untuk alasan apa, kamu mendapati dirimu tersipu. Kamu, usap-usap peluhmu jauh-jauh.

“Buat Teteh.”

Kamu mendongak, dan dapati Bocah itu sedang ulurkan tangan kanannya padamu. Bingung, kamu pandang-pandang botol air minum itu. Kamu, bahkan tak sadar eksistensinya sejak kapan ada di genggaman.

“Kenapa, Teh? Kok nggak diambil?”

Mengerjapkan mata, kamu tatap sorot mata Asanka yang kelewat polosnya. Ragu-ragu, kamu raih juga pereda dahaga. Dingin yang berkontak dengan telapak tangan, menamparmu lekat-lekat. Di hadapan, ada Asanka yang masih mengamat-amatimu seperti sekawanan burung bayan.

“Makasih, Bayi.”

Asanka tertawa kecil. Bocah itu lantas mendudukkan bokongnya tepat di sebelahmu. Aneh, kamu tidak merasa risih dengan lengket keringatnya yang menusuk-nusuk kulit lenganmu. Asanka wangi, kamu pikir-pikir lagi. 𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘬 𝘣𝘢𝘺𝘪.

“Kok tahu Teteh di sini?”

Asanka mengangkat bahu. “Soalnya hari ini jadwal Mas Bima main basket. Pasti Teteh nungguin di sini.”

Kamu, tersedak dalam upayamu menelan air mineral. Punggungmu, kamu sadari kemudian, dapat tepuk-tepuk lembut dari Asanka yang panik ribut-ribut.

“Teh Jani nggak papa? Pelan-pelan atuh, Teh.”

Kamu, menggeleng lamat-lamat. Terpatri di bola-bola matamu itu, Asanka dan raut wajahnya yang teriakkan kekhawatiran. Dahi Bocah itu berkerut-merut, sedang mulutnya terkerucut lucu. Kamu, dalam sibukmu memperhatikan, tak dengar apa-apa yang Asanka ocehkan. Sebab kini, ada pertanyaan besar menggantung di dasar benak,

kapan, 𝘬𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘩 𝘉𝘪𝘮𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘢𝘬𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘬𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘯𝘺𝘢 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘬𝘮𝘶?

𝗔𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘀𝗲, 6.18 PM.

𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙢.

“heeseung, my heeseung.”

heeseung laughs heartily at that. “you say my name like a prayer.”

eyes going soft, sunghoon goes to place a kiss just under heeseung's jaw. he drags his lips upward, coating heeseung's skin in open mouthed kisses; never once leaving any inches behind. because this is 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴. he is worshipping the owner of his soul, and he'll shower heeseung with the love his every cells made and produced.

“i am,” Sunghoon breathes against his cheek. he kisses it too, a tad bit softer than the rest. “i'm praying at the moment, love.”

every mewling sound heeseung gives off at his touch, goes straight into his pants. it's damn tight, and yet he finds himself does not really care. because heeseung's comfort and pleasure, is his utmost priority.

“i love you,” he rasps.

heeseung closes his eyes, and he watches at the red hue adorning his soft cheeks. he is so pretty, and sunghoon's so in love with him. he kisses the boy's right eye, too. nosing at his eyebrow, and chanting the love against the bridge of his nose.

“i love you, lee heeseung.”

“you are such a sap.”

sunghoon giggles at the remark. all breathy, and he feels heeseung shudders at that. this time, heeseung's left eye gets smooched instead.

“i know,” he simply says. his right hand, comes up to cradle his baby's cheek fondly. he witnesses how heeseung turns to nuzzle against his palm. like tiny kitten snuggling against it's mother. mesmerized, sunghoon's about to burst from the affection building up in his chest. it hurts. it hurts him in a good way.

“sunghoon.”

“yeah?”

and yet, heeseung's ignoring him. the boy grasps his wrist and moves to kiss his knuckles instead. gentle, like he's about to break sometimes soon.

“sunghoon.”

“here.” sunghoon dives down to breathe in heeseung's natural scent. he dares himself to lick a stripe across heeseung's neck, and the boy mewls like a cat in heat. he cherishes the sound deep in his mind.

“sunghoon.”

“here,” he whispers. never once getting tired of answering the call. he'll reach back everytime; making sure heeseung knows he's loved, with every of his beings.

heeseung kisses his palm, and sends 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳 to be known by the world. “sunghoon.” he hiccups. “sunghoon, i love you.”

heart feels so full and soaring high, 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦.

𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣, 9.52 pm.

𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚.

to kill the sun, is such an easy thing, san thinks. you just gotta hide and wait till the heat die down; drowning on the west part of the world, and then you'll have half of the day to celebrate under the moonlight. sitting with your knees up against your chest, as you wonder how you'll kill tomorrow's ray of sunshine.

so, call san as the bad guy, but does he really want to kill the enigma named jung wooyoung; his very own personal embodiment of the brightest light. supposedly guiding his steps away from the darker side, but nowadays, san chooses not to move away.

jung wooyoung, and his blinding smile. enough to light up the whole room in happy mood, and lead the crowds away from their nightmares. but never for san. because he's a coward little child inside, and he'd rather laying down behind the sofa. hidden from responsibilities placed on his shoulders.

call san a crooked soul, for he never really take the hand wooyoung always offer, and yet he let the boy grasp his wrist and whisk him away from the safety that is his house with the mighty tall walls built solely to scare people away. for his whole life, he's been living in uncertainties. and jung wooyoung, is the certainty he's not gonna take the risk for.

because jung wooyoung is the warmth his body constantly reject. knowing he'll learn not to miss it, when the cold come around once again. because jung wooyoung loves like a fucking wrecking ball. leaving him all bare and vulnerable, unsure of what to feel when he only knows solitude for so long he barely remembers home.

so, maybe he's a jerk. for stealing jung wooyoung's heart, even when he did not mean to; for they barely meet on daily basis, and he does not understand which part of his ugly sight can bless the eyes of jung wooyoung.

“i just like you,” jung wooyoung ever told him. he said nothing that time; only squeezed jung wooyoung's hand, as his heart decided that it would never believe those sweet lies.

call san an asshole, if you'd like. for letting the angel love him with all of his might, knowing that he can't share the sentiment back. it was not his fault. still is not his fault. and will never be his fault.

because jung wooyoung loves, loves, and loves. never ever once asking for anything, and san never trust people who does not demand anything.

he has nothing left to give, anyway.

“i love you.” jung wooyoung would whisper everynight.

and everytime, he would stare at those pretty eyes, and say, “i know,” as he watch the fire flicker down slightly. jung wooyoung will get tired of him soon, and he knows.

because in this life, he does not fancy the sun, even when he's on the verge of dying. thus, what's the better option he has other than killing the fireball before it can engulf him and burn him all the way to the bones?

nothing.

so, call him the worst. for he'll admit all of his crimes, as he use his umbrella to save himself from the sunlight. blocking the bright from ever reaching into his heart. the path is full of thorns, and he already threw the key away long time ago.

san does not want to get burnt, and jung wooyoung shall get drowned in his pool.

“i love you, san.”

“do you want to learn how to swim, young-ah?”

𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙚, 10.42 pm.