klausaberwarita

𝙞 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠, 𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜.

it's raining again. but that's okay. because the droplets never managed to hurt wooyoung in any ways. it's the memories that they brings along; slipping into his mind, when he blanks out and freezes in fear. when he has nothing to do, and nothing else to occupy his head. simply letting the waves of words flooding his brain. forcing him to drown, and not to think.

“hyeong,”

it's scary, wooyoung thinks. when he stares at the window and feels the cold creeps in, even when he's clad in nothing but the warmest clothes jongho could find. even when he barely feels jongho's lips kissing his nape. even when the younger's arms are circling around his tiny waist in gentle manner. because he's physically there, and yet his mind's is already far away.

“hyeong, what are you thinking?”

he does not know, and he does not have the plan to answer. but he knows jongho will understand, because the boy tightens his hug around his small figure. and he lets his warm breath tickles his neck.

“hyeong?”

“it's raining.”

“i'm aware.”

“it's raining.”

jongho says nothing. and he does not blame him. but, he makes small movement to place his palm atop of jongho's ones. together, they basks in silence that's too heavy to bear, and yet too worried to let go.

wooyoung blinks, and the rain falls harder. the sound is bothering his ears, but he pays it no mind. he thinks he was wrecked all along, and the darkness nods in agreement. because his mind, is a place where he can't escape from his own ghost. and not even the sunshine, is capable of pulling him out.

“it's raining, jongho.”

jongho whispers an ‘okay’, and kisses his cheek.

it's raining.

𝙠𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙖, 1.52 pm.

𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙨.

i'm running with the wolves, tonight. so that we can stop pretending the butterflies are still there. so that we can stop swimming in the burning pit; not knowing when to quit, not realizing when to go out.

because i have tasted the sun, and let the gentle summer sky lead me out. because i have decided not to drown, while i still can crawl away. because the stars i stared at until my eyes were dry gave me an insight; that the anchor i've been holding tight, is no longer there. because the fire that i've been trying to re-kindle over times, is finally giving it's last heat.

i'm running with the wolves tonight. because the dark, is far friendlier than the dim light we have.

i'm running with the wolves tonight.

𝙠𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙖, 12.36 pm.

𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧.

adalah seekor gurita, kalau wooyoung coba untuk menganalogikan bagaimana lengan-lengan jongho memerangkap tubuh. menyembunyikannya di bawah rasa aman, meski terasa sedikit gerah sebab kurangnya ruang untuk udara.

“geser sedikit,” katanya kemudian. sebab meski hangatnya membuat nyaman, namun debar jantungnya masihlah ingin dia rahasiakan bunyinya.

tetapi jongho ialah eksistensi dari sebuah bukti akurat bahwa keras kepala memang nyata adanya; anak itu menggeleng, dan memilih membenamkan hidung pada tengkuknya. menolak keras, bahkan tanpa repot menyuarakan. dan sialnya, hal remeh-temeh ini justru memacu degup jantungnya untuk melaju jauh lebih cepat. sedikit banyak, wooyoung khawatir organ vitalnya takkan bertahan lama.

“jongho,” dia menyeru. pun, bergerak layaknya seekor cacing di bawah siraman larutan garam. yang demikian, bahkan masih belum mampu untuk membuat kungkungan lengan milik jongho melonggar. alih-alih, justru mengundangnya untuk semakin mengeratkan pelukan.

“nanti hyeong, ngantuk.”

wooyoung, resmi terperangkap.

𝙠𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙖, 9.55 pm.

𝙘𝙞𝙧𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙨.

“it is not working, san.”

together, they are sitting face to face. back at the corner of the place they went for the first time many years ago for a date. together, they are gripping on their cup of coffee; piping hot, and yet they can't feel the burn directly. for the heavy feeling that floats around them freely, is clogging their senses perfectly.

at time like this, wooyoung does question himself; what did go wrong in their little but smooth journey? from the bright love he always cherished, to the dull pain that is poking his heart. from the silly kisses they exchanged, to the cold shoulders they share.

“and what is not working?”

wooyoung looks up and catches the cold that swims in those brown orbs he used to love so much. because he often saw himself there back then, until he could no longer bear the void that started to grow inside. of negligence, of the scars that had already formed permanently across his chest. and it hurts, it hurts so much.

therefore, wooyoung smiles. simply because an old memory of them holding hands is coming into his mind at the moment; reminding him that today, it's only him and his warm mug of beverage he drinks bitterly, and gestures to themselves with his hand.

“us,” he says.

his voice comes out softer and calmer than he had planned and expected, and he wonders for how long has he been preparing himself to meet this day?

“ah, i've been meaning to talk about,” san clears his throat, and wooyoung can feel his anxiety crawls against his skin. “that.”

maybe they really are not meant to be, and wooyoung forces himself to think about the days where he cried himself to sleep thinking about the value of everything he had done to save them. to think about the day he went to their promised date alone because the older could never make a time for him, let alone for them. to the day he realized that he had lost the boy even before he could say good bye. that san had walked away, and leaving him behind.

“yeah,” wooyoung takes a sip on his coffee, and thinks about how he really hates this, and only drink that because san love it. today, he feels pretty stupid for doing that for years already; for always giving his best, even when he received nothing in return.

“let's stop, san.”

wooyoung can see how san's eyes flickers quickly. like it's not something the boy had expected before. like wooyoung is a strange entity he can't decipher. but, maybe wooyoung really is, had became a new blooming existence that has no choi san in his mind. that had decided to quit as well, because staying only gave him nothing but lingering pain.

“let's stop this.” he says once more, because san makes no move to give him the words he want.

“i'm tired of waiting, and running in circles. so, let's just stop this,” wooyoung pauses to take a quick glance at the older male, and thinks that this will be the last time he'll see those used to be kind eyes. “let's stop hurting ourselves.”

“okay,” san finally says. and for the first time after months, he finally sees pain gets reflected across san's face. it really is a new thing, and yet he can't help himself but to think that it's already too late. they're beyond saving, and he no longer has anything to offer to keep them rowing.

“thank you,”

for the memories they ever made, for the laughter they ever shared. for the warm embrace and love he ever felt. for the tears he ever shedded. for the pain, and for the lesson he ever gotten from.

in the end, san bid him farewell with a soft kiss on his cheek. and as he watches the boy stands and takes his first official step to get out of his life, he lets himself relaxing; feeling the way his shoulders gets lighter within seconds passes by, upon realizing that he had released his agony for real.

therefore, when he steps out of the cafe all burden less; enjoying the way the wind slinks pass by and messes up his hair, he wonders what took him so long to let go.

𝙠𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙖, 7.26 pm.

𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚.

separation, is inevitable. that's what apollo said on the day he decided to pay him a visit. moreover, for a demigod like them; where most events and trials lead to their destined death. be it painfully, or painlessly. he understand this wholeheartedly. therefore, ever since the day apollo claimed him as his own, he takes his distance away from people. because on top of the fear of dying alone, he fears the pain of losing someone more.

but, jongho is different. as the son of hephaestus, jongho is brave. even though the boy is younger than him, even though he was so skinny wooyoung was afraid a mere gentle breeze of a wind would knock him over.

“be careful,” he would say everytime. and the boy would stare at his eyes like wooyoung had grown a second head. solely because the children of hephaestus are known for their amazing steel hands and works, and careful never get to be written out loud in their head. it's already imprinted in their nature.

“you know, hyeong. i should be the one telling you that.”

“i have my bow and arrows, jongho.”

“and i have merciless fire on my hands.”

so, like a normal boy who fears the death, he tried to stay away and protect his heart, and met his failure just months later when jongho kissed him behind the door after lunch on one fateful day. therefore, the last thing he could do is telling his heart to prepare; both for the worst, and also for the best.

but tonight, tonight he's brimming with anxiety. his fingers never stops trembling, because tomorrow would be their first mission together. and from where he seated with his dinner, he watches jongho pays his offerings for hephaestus in front of the fire. and together, he also prays to his own father silently.

𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘶𝘴.

“hey,” jongho chirps happily. the boy joins him for dinner with a plate full of meat, and he looks up just in time to receive a soft peck on top of his head.

wooyoung blinks, and thinks about rachel dare's prophecy this afternoon upon their upcoming journey. she saw fragments of life, and she saw fragments of death. and he does not like the ugly butterflies that eats his guts painfully.

“hey,” he says back.

“what are you thinking so seriously about?”

he pauses, and reaches out to take jongho's hand in his own. “i think,”

jongho simply hums. he stops chewing in order to listen to the older boy. “you think,”

wooyoung takes his time to let his heart unravel; all vulnerable and open for jongho to see, through the spark of mischief in his eyes.

“without you, i'm incomplete.”

jongho's answer, comes in the form of a chaste kiss against wooyoung's forehead. and wooyoung closes his eyes for seconds. it's like he's trying to imprint the feel of his lips long in his brain.

“stay alive,” wooyoung says.

“i'll try my best.”

it's a promise, then.

𝙠𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙖, 2.02 pm.

𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩.

𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘺'𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦?

to be honest, san does not know for how long he has been standing here; in front of a flower shop, eyes fixated on one particular yellowish petals. for months, he'd been avoiding this place. for it brought him painful memories of a loved one, that betrayed his soul and ran away ever since.

“good morning, is there anything i can help?”

san stares at the boy, and gives him one hesitant nod. because he still does not know what to buy, and what to bring. it's their first meeting after the last forced separation, anyway. because after months of mourning, he had finally found his courage to greet him. properly, this time. because wooyoung only deserves the best, and he would bring nothing but also the best for him. even after he broke his heart into million pieces.

“sunflower, yeah.”

simply because it's wooyoung's favorite, and it reminds him of the said angel. the way wooyoung smiled when he sniffed the bouquet; the one san sent whenever they were done arguing over petty things. the way their fingers intertwined after a long day. the way wooyoung would press a chaste kiss onto his forehead to ensure his comfort.

“just sunflower?”

he thinks about the mole under his angel's left eye, and nods. about the warmth of his lips; that he can no longer feel again. about the smell of his hair. about the safety that radiated brightly off his arms. that, san realizes harshly, can no longer be his home again.

“just sunflower.”

“how about these red roses, sir? they just came this morning. still fresh, and fragrant.”

san thinks about the red. that bloomed across wooyoung's cheeks whenever he rained his face with kisses. about wooyoung's favorite red hoodie, that he wore before he went to pick him up at the office. and about the additional scary one, that gushed down wooyoung's forehead because of the crash. and then, about the painful scream he let out when he faced the truth; that the boy he had promised to love forever, is no longer here.

“just sunflower, thank you.”

𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘺'𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦?

𝙠𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙖, 11.13 am

𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙨.

duduk beralaskan sehelai selimut usang, wooyoung menghela napas panjang. piknik dadakan ini memang belakangan sering dia lakukan. menyeret jongho sebagai peneman, mereka berdua berkendara mengelilingi kota, dan berhenti di sudutnya demi menyaksikan matahari kembali ke peraduan. sebab orang bilang distraksi nyata ialah obat utama dari hancurnya hati yang lara. wooyoung, takkan membantah untuk beberapa episode pelarian kemarin. tetapi, hari ini jelas 𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘢―

“hyeong, mau stroberi?”

wooyoung menaikkan alis, dan mencermati; betapa manis anak ini ketika sedang menyiapkan kudapan ringan. dia lekas menggeleng, dan menyempatkan diri menusuk dahi tak berponi milik jongho main-main. lamat, pula, dia perhatikan tegas manik mata yang lebih muda, dan membiarkan hatinya meraba.

“enggak.”

―alasan utama? denyut jantung yang disadari tak lagi berdetak untuk orang yang sama. sebab pagi ini, wooyoung terbangun dengan pemahaman baru menghias kepala; bahwasanya nama baru telah menggantikan yang lama, dan menjalin keping-keping pecahan hatinya kembali menyatu utuh. bahkan ketika dia gagal untuk menyadari prosesnya.

“hari ini apa? san lagi?”

wooyoung tertawa. sebab ternyata dengar nama𝘯𝘺𝘢 tak lagi mampu membuat jantungnya berdentum sebarkan nyeri. seolah-olah pemuda bermanik mata layaknya seekor kucing itu hanyalah fragmen memori belaka, yang telah duduk diam bertahun lamanya.

“bukan.”

jongho berkedip, dan meneruskan giatnya tangan membongkar tas. anak itu mengeluarkan satu botol jus buah, dan membukanya. wooyoung memperhatikan setiap geriknya, dan memetakan memori baru di dalam dada. setiap senti kulitnya, diterpa gelombang antusiasme baru akan prospek penuh risiko bernamakan jatuh cinta.

“terus kenapa, hyeong?”

“perjalanan mengenali diri.” wooyoung menyahut. 𝘥𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘪, ialah yang dia tolak untuk ucapkan keras-keras.

jongho tak berkomentar. mungkin dia kira hal-hal aneh yang demikian memang telah menempel erat dengan yang lebih tua, dan menjadikannya mafhum karenanya. alih-alih, bocah itu meraih tangan kanan wooyoung, dan melingkupi jemarinya dengan kehangatan.

“mau roti, nggak?”

wooyoung tersipu, dan merona-rona. dia mengalihkan tatap, dan berharap gelap menenggelamkannya. jika jongho sempat menangkap terangnya rasa malu yang merambat sampai ke telinganya, jongho nyatanya menyembunyikannya dengan baik.

“enggak.”

selagi sapuan pandangnya menjamah padang ilalang dan bintang-bintang setelah senja menghilang, gerilya telapak tangannya tak pernah berhenti; kali ini, balik meremat jari-jemari yang tak pernah luput untuk menggenggam miliknya ketika dia sedang merasa hilang.

“jongho,”

hangat suam kuku yang menyelip dan merasuk, memampatkan dadanya. penuh, dan alih-alih dipenuhi oleh rasa takut yang menjalar, untuk kali pertama setelah sesi patah hati yang dia lalui berminggu-minggu lamanya, dia merasa baik-baik saja.

“mm? haus? susu ada di dalam tasku.”

sejatinya, mungkin nama choi jongho telah terukir lama di dalam hati. lewat afeksi dan atensi yang selalu anak itu bagikan tanpa harap kembali; penuh, meski wooyoung kerap abai menyadari.

“bukan,”

mungkin rumah tak perlu jauh mencari, sebab yang dekat dalam jangkau tangan memang ada, dan mudah untuk dia raih; andaikan dia mau memberikan kesempatan.

“terus?”

maka, wooyoung lebih memilih untuk memeluk si pemarga choi erat; kepala menempel pada dada, sebab dengar degup jantung nyatanya telah jadi rutinitas yang menghasilkan rasa aman, dan wooyoung menyukainya. sebab keberanian belum datang seutuhnya, dan dia hanya dapat menyalurkan rasanya demikian. dia memang pecundang, dan pecundang selalu butuh waktu untuk merangkak keluar cangkang.

“kamu lucu.”

dan bibit bunganya, merekah pelan-pelan.

𝙠𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙖, 9.40 am.

𝙗𝙡𝙪𝙚 𝙨𝙠𝙮.

the sky is so blue, people says. but hongjoong never once could understand what does that mean; for his whole life he lives in greys, and will continue to do so as long as his destined one decide to play hide and seek a little longer.

though oftentimes people see that as pitiful, on the contrary, he kind of likes it. really. because living in grey comes with it's own perks. taking an example, he can always annoy wooyoung, his housemate, with his blind sense of bright colored fashion; choosing random clothes to wear, and put everyone's eyes on danger. wooyoung, the poor child, will glare and mutter a string of curses and cusses towards his nameless soulmate. solely for not coming sooner, and let his hyeong taste the beautiful world of colors.

hongjoong, finds it super entertaining that he pulls the prank almost everyday.

“hyeong,”

hongjoong turns his head, and meets with a pouty wooyoung dead on. the boy's clad in everything grey as per usual (you can't really blame his color blind eyes), and is sitting on his soulmate's lap. all curling in like a small cat, considering how big and tall yunho is. they look so cuddly, and hongjoong's heart is swimming in fondness.

“yeah?”

“do not forget to pick san's coffee on your way!”

“that,” he says, “i remember.”

therefore, he begins his usual small journey towards his office just a few blocks away; carefully making a new note in his head about san's coffee along the way, and fastens his step. knowing his favorite place will be swarmed full with morning people demanding for the same thing―a warm hearty breakfast from the new coffee shop.

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱, that just got opened last month. he found it accidentally when the rain decided to come, and he had no umbrella in hand. the only choice he had back then, was to take shelter inside; where he found out the nice taste of the beverages, and hongjoong unconsciously made a new habit to visit it every morning before he arrive on his workplace. simply to fetch his coffee, and treat himself with something sweet when his mood's up for it.

when the bell chimes up, he notices there's a new guy behind the counter. not the usual park seonghwa and his gentle smile. today, it's the tall guy with a black hat covering his eyes. hongjoong makes a beeline and waits for his turn; watching distractedly as people in front of him slowly but sure gets their things done. when the queue's up, he shuffles forward like an awkward penguin.

“hello―” his greeting, is abruptly interrupted by a loud crashing sound. hongjoong's eyes widens as his gaze lands on the breaking mug just behind the barista's back. poor boy must have his nerves on haywire today. hongjoong sighs sympathetically.

“i'm sorry,” the guy says as he takes a step back with the intention to clean the mess. his voice, surprisingly is so deep and latched with nervousness, and yet hongjoong finds it so pleasant to hear. “it's my first day at work.”

“it's more than fine.” he nods briefly. even though the guy probably can't really see it. when the realization dawns on, he adds more quickly. “just be careful.”

the barista lifts his head, and hongjoong thinks probably he was supposed to greet and thank him properly. but, never in his life he ever thought about what the universe had stored for him; because hongjoong really is not prepared about what's gonna come when their eyes locks for seconds, and watches as destiny unravels right under his nose; the barista's pretty orbs gradually changes their color from grey, into something that he can't really remember.

hongjoong blinks.

so, this is 𝘪𝘵. 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵. the miracle people with soulmate always talked about back then; about the gift fate had written for each one. and today, he got to meet his own.

“... oh.”

the clumsy barista stares back and seems to realize what's happening as well. hongjoong holds his breath when he notices the shy smile the boy's showing; as his own also starts to bloom upon fetching the sight.

“what is your name?”

“mingi,” the barista chirps out, “song mingi.”

“i'm hongjoong.” he says a tad bit hurriedly; consciously gets reminded about people piling up behind. “nice to meet you, i guess? and―i know this is maybe too fast but i suppose i'll need your number for future scientific purpose?”

song mingi giggles, and instantly, hongjoong decides he really loves the sound. and those little crescents that comes with it as well. they only met for five minutes, and he's so smitten already.

“yeah, sure.”

therefore, after exchanging numbers and 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 get san's coffee in his hand, hongjoong leaves the coffee shop all drunk in new colors, and a promise to have a call later when the day ends. it's a little overwhelming, he supposes. but when he looks up towards the morning sky and finally, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 understand how does blue actually look, he halts his step and stares in awe.

blue, really is pretty.

𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙚, 8.17 pm.

𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙖𝙧.

hongjoong likes to think of wooyoung as a plate of sweets. because boy does really taste like that; all nice and soft, for him to devour at times. addictive, even. because he couldn't get enough, even after he had eaten him out for hours. until his personal embodiment of sunshine writhing beneath, all shaking and shedding tears. he look so pretty like that, and hongjoong would never can avert his gaze away.

“hyeong,”

hongjoong simply hums. his lips, are still moving against wooyoung's skin. mapping out every inches, like it's his personal mission to finish alone.

“hyeong,”

again, comes the whiny voice. hongjoong heaves out a soft sigh, and looks up from where he seated in between those heavenly meaty thighs. there's a small bead of sweat rolling down across wooyoung cheek, and hongjoong can't really help himself. he leans closer, and lets his tongue do the job; licking away the salty treat, as he grins cheekily. oh, 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘥. he really does want to take his baby apart all night.

“sweet,” he murmurs against wooyoung's forehead. the boy shudders violently, and hongjoong smiles. “what is it, my love? tell me.”

“you're awfully slow today,” wooyoung says.

hongjoong laughs, and leaves butterfly kisses thorough the boy's neck. occasionally, giving him traces as well. red will bloom soon, and he loves the thought. because people knows he's possessive, and he knows how proud he is to stare at the marks wooyoung put on display around their friends.

“you look so pretty today,” hongjoong whispers. he drinks in the way wooyoung's back arches beautifully at his words. “let me worship you in peace, my love.”

hongjoong, likes to think of wooyoung as a cake tonight. with layers of creamy treats. thus, he takes his time to unravel wooyoung as careful as possible. devouring the boy from head to toe, because that's just how much he longs for wooyoung; yearning for every pieces of him. because quick fuck, while it's nice and all, is not on his list today. because maybe, just maybe, deep down he does want wooyoung to feel his love through the soft touches of his fingers and his lips. the unsaid ones, where he can only be brave when the light's out and the clothes are off.

𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, he dares himself to whisper into wooyoung's mouth, while he enters the boy slowly. he swallows them all; the soft gasp, the squeaky whine, even the long reddish lines across his back that wooyoung's nails just made. he presses in, and kisses the boy silly. the butterflies, can have the party all they want inside.

because when wooyoung preens and cries it out back, hongjoong 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦.

𝙠𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙖, 1.12 pm.

𝙗𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙖.

jongho menyadari, bahwa semesta senang sekali berkelakar, lantas mengajak bintang-bintang pula untuk menertawakan hidupnya. kali ini, topik terhangat ialah bagaimana dia menghabiskan waktunya mempertanyakan pilihan hidup yang pernah dia ambil di dalam lemari pakaian. terkunci rapat, sebab permainan putar botol mengharuskannya dan siapapun yang leher botol pilihkan, duduk bersembunyi di dalam lemari untuk jangka waktu yang telah ditetapkan. untuk apa persisnya, bercumbu boleh jadi contoh yang paling mudah untuk dipikirkan.

jongho, mengutuk siapapun yang menciptakan permainan bodoh tidak beradab semacam ini. sebab semesta, sekali lagi, menganggap keberuntungannya sebagai sesuatu yang patut untuk dijadikan tontonan, dan mengirimkan jung wooyoung untuk bersarang di pangkuan. 𝘥𝘶𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘶𝘩 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘵, choi san teriakkan sebelum memaksa mereka masuk ke dalam. 𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯, jongho sempat merutuk ribut, bahkan meski kedua telinganya memerah diam-diam.

“aku menyimpulkan bahwa situasi kita cukup gawat.”

jongho menatapnya samar. sebab terperangkap di dalam ruang sempit berpenerangan minim berdua saja dengan lelaki yang kau taksir berat sudah selama berbulan-bulan memang terdengar seperti isu yang membahayakan. lima menit telah berlalu, dan wacana bertukar ludah dengan jemari tangan bergerilya di bawah kaus masih berwujud sebatas angan-angan. wooyoung, sejauh ini hanya menganggap pahanya sebagai kursi cadangan. jongho dan kewarasan, ternyata sudah mulai tertekan.

“terima kasih,” katanya kalem. meski jantungnya telah berdentum-dentum berisik secara kurang ajar. dia dan organ tubuh menyebalkan itu, memang kurang akur belakangan. “aku perlu diingatkan.”

wooyoung mengerucutkan bibir. dan di bawah kegelapan, jongho dan manik matanya yang jeli masih tetap dapat melihatnya. oh, menggemaskan sekali. 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, dia pikir. 𝘢𝘬𝘶 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘢𝘩 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. adalah fakta yang menarik sekali, bahwa dia masih bisa menahan diri untuk tidak meninggalkan kecup ribut pada yang bersangkutan. mengingat jarak antara wajahnya dan wajah wooyoung, tidak sampai berjumlah tiga puluh sentimeter. hela napas yang lebih tua, membuai dahinya lamat-lamat.

“bagaimana kita akan keluar?”

jongho mengangkat bahunya, dan berusaha meluruskan kaki-kakinya. sebuah upaya ringan untuk melancarkan peredaran darah yang berakhir sia-sia. sebab dengan wooyoung duduk manis di atas pangkuan, energinya tampak menguap tidak berdaya. jadi, dia memilih untuk menatap muka kulit leher wooyoung, dan merana dalam diam.

“jongho,”

jongho berdengung.

“aku berat, ya?”

jongho menggeleng. pertanyaan bodoh macam apa barusan? sebab di antara beban barang-barang yang pernah dia bawa ke sana dan kemari, wooyoung jelas yang paling ringan. jongho menduga dia bisa saja duduk diam dengan wooyoung meringkuk di atas pahanya seharian; bahkan meski harus mengorbankan kakinya sendiri terserang kejang otot dan pegal-pegal kemudian.

“hyeong kecil.” katanya setelah detik-detik dilalui dengan keheningan. tidak pernah dimaksudkan untuk menghina; dia justru menemukan informasi ini sebagai sesuatu yang menggemaskan. layak untuk disimpan dalam memori jangka panjang.

tetapi, wooyoung tentu tidak sependapat. anak itu merajuk, dan memilih bahwa gigitan pada pundak ialah senjata pamungkas yang mengagumkan. jongho mengerang, dan genggaman jemarinya pada kaus di punggung mengerat signifikan. serta merta, membawa wooyoung lebih dekat dalam kungkungan lengan. jarak yang sempat tercipta, nyatanya telah terkikis sempurna. dan di tengah-tengah gelenyar nyeri yang menyerang pada pundak, jongho membeku juga ketika pemahaman singkat melintas cepat di otaknya; mereka, sedang berpelukan.

“maksudmu apa?” si kecil yang pemberang, bersungut-sungut dekat dengan telinga. jongho bergidik ngeri sebab hangat udara yang menyapa, membuktikan betapa lemahnya dia di hadapan si pemarga jung dan segala tingkahnya.

“tinggimu tidak juga lebih jauh dariku, jongho.”

“hyeong,” jongjo berjengit. “diam dulu.”

“kenapa?”

berbisik-bisik, agaknya dia sudah hampir sampai pada kata menyerah. “... nanti aku yang susah.”

“susah?”

lingkar lengan, kian mengerat di sekeliling figur si kecil. jongho, sembunyikan rupa dan ekspresi dengan membenamkan wajah pada pundak yang lebih tua. rasanya ... malu sekali.

“diam dulu.”

“jongho?”

“yang berisik itu―di dalam dadaku, maksudnya. hyeong dengar, 'kan?”

jeda yang tercipta, rupanya memacu keberaniannya terbang jauh lebih tinggi. sebab setelah tercebur, mengapa tidak berenang sekaligus? kepalang basah dia membocorkan isi hati yang hanya tuhan dan kepalanya saja yang tahu. dan mungkin choi san. atau kim hongjoong. sebab mengutip dari kalimat menyebalkan mereka, dia tampak seperti anak anjing dihadapkan pada kudapan ringan bila berada dekat dengan jung wooyoung. presensi bocah itu, mampu membuatnya gila.

“jongho,”

“... ya?”

“tidak dengar, maaf.”

mencelos, gugur satu bunga yang bahkan belum mekar sempurna. jongho menghela napas, dan memilih untuk berduka dalam diam. inilah penampikan rasa yang skenarionya pernah dia bayangkan sebelumnya; ketika dia sedang berlatih mengungkapkan cinta pada dinding kamar mandi indekosnya. sudah diduga probabilitasnya, namun tetap menyakitkan ternyata.

“tapi,” wooyoung terkikik-kikik, dan jongho menahan napas. tidak ingin melambung harap. bahkan, ketika jemari wooyoung yang mungil, bergerak menyentuh pipi; memaksa jongho untuk mendongak, dan segera bertemu tatap. meski masih berkabung karena penolakan yang tak diungkapkan terang-terangan, jongho menyempatkan diri untuk merona juga. karena cinta memang tetap cinta. takkan mudah hilang semata karena baru saja diurungkan bahagianya.

“aku mau dengar lebih dekat.”

“maksudnya?”

tidak mengerti, jongho menelengkan kepala. dia membiarkan wooyoung mendekat, dan meninggalkan kecup ringan pada puncak kepala.

“begini.”

layu kembangnya, mekar lagi pelan-pelan. jernih manik mata si pemarga jung, dia pandangi lamat-lamat dengan sayang.

“oh.”

𝙠𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙖, 11.03 pm.