klausaberwarita

𝙨𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙚.

“nya,”

“yeah?”

“lo ngerasa dingin banget nggak sih?”

“enggak.”

a lie.

and they both knows that. for the way his fingers shakes violently against the seam of the blanket. 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 blanket. one thing he had learnt since he was still a little toddler; the perks of being born and live in poverty, you never have enough to keep yourself warm. 𝘣𝘶𝘵, he reasons quietly, they have the blanket. the big worn out blue colored one. with a little hole just perfect in the middle. because grandmother likes the white fluffy one, and he gotta be grateful enough she even spared him another.

“kaki lo dingin banget, bangsat.”

he rolls his eyes, and smacks baladika's upper arm. the older whines, and huddles even closer. strangely, he feels warmer already.

“siapa yang tadi maksa nginep di rumah gue?”

“rumah nenek lo.”

“iya,” he hisses annoyedly.

“siapa yang tadi maksa nginep di 𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘩 𝘯𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘶𝘦?”

he hears a soft huff, and he laughs as he can imagine the way baladika is pouting right now. 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦, he muses. but he can't risk a glance, or his heart will suffer another heartbreak.

“gue.” baladika murmurs quietly.

“mmhm.”

“makanya sini deketan.”

“males, ah.”

“dih. jangan kayak orang marahan lah, nya.”

“bang, ini kita beneran udah nggak ada jarak, anjing.”

“ini lo pura-pura bego apa gimana?”

he chooses to say nothing. because the fear is there; of blurting out things he is not prepared. it's a little unfair, how baladika acts around, knowing the way he wears his heart on his sleeve. and a little stupid too, how he build his resolve every morning, only to get it all washed away at the end of the day. no matter how hard he try, the sun of his life will always manage to pull him back. almost like a home. unless baladika is not his home. 𝘺𝘦𝘵.

because baladika, will always be the sun. and he can act like a mere sunflower. loving the bright star just by hiding behind the shadow. following him around, hoping to give the universe something, when all these times, it's baladika who always rain him with everything. how do you compete with a love so big it slowly ruins him, anyway?

“nya, lo mikirin apa?”

he sighs.

“mikirin dunia.”

“dunia nggak mikirin lo, nya.”

𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺.

“tangan lo dingin, nya.”

he smiles at the ceiling. there are pretty little dots littering around, and he wonders when will his grandfather let him paint his room new.

“biasanya juga begini.”

“biasanya gue gandeng.”

“malem ini libur dulu, bang.”

but then again, when will baladika ever listen to his saying? the answer is a big bright never. it's kind of funny, how he lets the older man slips his fingers around his own; filling the empty space like they were meant to be. like they were some kind of a lock, with the destined key.

he takes a deep breathe, and lets his heart decide. baladika is humming a random tone, now. it sounds okay, and he blinks away his fears.

“tangan lo juga dingin, bang.”

baladika simply hums. “iya, makanya gue pegang punya lo.”

he laughs, and squeezes their intertwined hands. for this 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 once, he will close his eyes, and let his love be heard and be seen properly. tonight, openly he lays his heart out, all clear for the boy of his dream to map out for free.

𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘬𝘢 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬.

𝙠𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙖, 11.33 am.