There's not much I want to do in my own room. Just staring at my cellphone until it was saturated, then closing my eyes just to draw the man's back again in my mind. Wide back, clad in our school's blue alma mater. Even if I don't turn around and look at me, I'm still happy.
His back is like a trigger. Triggers a time machine so that it can return to those good times. The days when I wasn't yet someone whose soul died. The times when everything was fine.
Memories of ten months or more days are enough to make my heart depend on it. Making him the man I love the most after father. Make his name in speed dial number one. Also made himself the first person to call his name when the lights in a room were turned off, even after almost a year we were away.
I really appreciate that memory. He was the first to know my fear of darkness. He was the first person to understand my pleasure in relationships between men. He was the first to calmly try to fix my soul that was about to break.
Everything's fine before greed consumes my heart. Replace it with blind jealousy. Jealousy that finished off all the sweet words he had ever said to me, also sweet promises, that I know, one day he will definitely keep.
"Where have you been? Why is it too late to answer my message? " my mind floated when I found him leaving with his friends without telling me.
"Of course I just got home after watching Rachel's performance. What is wrong?" the beautiful voice I no longer praise.
"Oh, so, now your new boyfriend is Rachel?" when I asked that question, I just wanted him to respond jokingly. However, I think he is too tired to joke.
"What do you mean?" the tone of his voice rose.
"Rachel is my best friend.
I just kept quiet, not moving in the slightest.
"Now you even doubt me? For God's sake, Nan. All this time I only loved you, and now you doubt me? I sacrificed a lot for you, I even sacrificed my grades, did a lot of madness for you, and now you doubt me? ” that's not all.
"I now even wonder, what have you ever done for me? Why am I willing to do all this madness for you, when you don't even deserve it? "
"Really, Nan. I don't understand, what else do you expect from me? You are very jealous. Rachel is my best friend, but you suspect her. I only went with my friends for a while. But, you still make your prejudices the most correct, "he paused
"I don't know what else to do. I am tired."
I don't want to make my tears flow, so I reply all of his arguments with mine. Fight, prove who is the most correct in this debate. With hope, he can understand the location of his mistakes, then apologize to me, and re-establish relations with me as before.
But, I miscalculated the risk.
He did not reply with a rather long time. "Never mind, Nan. I am tired." He then stopped talking, turned around.
Not wanting to let him go, I held his arm. "I love you, sis."
He let go of my hand. "I don't know, Nan."
In just those fifteen minutes, the relationship I had built for ten months with him — Dika — was broken. Thinking about it again, my feet went cold. My mind is a mess again. The heart that I have arranged in such a way is broken again. Just like being hit by a tornado. Everything is a mess. My memory jumps back to the past.
"If I scream, surely everyone who is near me will feel that his ears are bleeding." Dika laughed.
"How could it be? That can't be happening. It doesn't feel good to see someone bleed from their ears. " This time, I chuckled.
"That can happen! It could be, I, who was a queen of youth, became the queen of hurt, queen of pain. " Dika looks thoughtful.
"Um, how about being a queen in my heart? That will be better. " I never realized that my cheeks had a pink tinge and my heart was beating twice as fast as before. I then hit his head.
"Ugh, seriously! Get lost from here! " I was so embarrassed when Dika said that. It feels like I want to hide my face behind a pillow.
"Oh, you don't want to? Well, I'll take back all my words just now. " Dika smiled mischievously, making me hit harder.
"Aah! It's all your fault for making me blush! ” he laughed. I laughed too.
He must have hated me now. A Nanda, who arbitrarily, is too possessive, childish, likes to scream along the corridor every hour of rest, ignorant, whose soul is dead, who is not beautiful, also who is not smart.
Dika, his body is tall, not too thin like a gamemate, his skin is dark exotic. Many people say that our faces look similar. His voice is no less great than mine, although he has a bass so it does not interfere with the hearing of others.
I sighed while staring at the ceiling. He is so perfect. He was so beautiful, even the words he spoke were also beautiful. His laughter was like a beautiful song from heaven. Its name is the most beautiful word in the world. His smile was like a painting of a famous painter. There is no word that can rival its beauty. Even the peacocks and deer in the forest will party when they learn that Dika lost all her physical assets.
I closed my eyes, painting again the broad back of the dark-skinned man.
The next day at school, the first three hours after class begins, the recess bell rings. After the teacher left the class, I ran to the canteen. Followed by some friends who followed my steps to arrive at the canteen.
The distance between my class and the canteen isn't that far. Maybe only ten to fifteen meters. However, it is quite draining when you run with all your strength through the corridor.
I ran nimbly. "Kevin, you will really become gay when you reach the last canteen!" I shouted. Then laugh. Some students who saw my behavior even shook their heads in surprise.
I know that I am a stupid girl. I didn't even see the road ahead of me when running. Without I ever realized, Dika stood in front of my running track. He did not move an inch. I immediately put the brakes on my footsteps. Prevents fatal collisions. However, what power. Collisions still occur. Although the impact was minimal, at least I was able to prevent Dika from falling to the floor.
I bumped my head into his chest. The man who was one and a half inch taller than myself was even looking at me in surprise. I looked up. Staring at his black-brown eyes that became addictive to me.
Corridors become crowded, no play. Everyone rollicking, competing to capture this rare moment. The moment where Dika and Nanda met again after over a year of avoiding each other.
I looked at him for a long time. One minute later blink my eyes. No, no. This must be a dream. Things like this only happen in rom-com novels, movies, dramas, television shows that my sister often watches, and soap operas. This has never happened in real life.
I walked away from him a few steps. The corridor returned to its original state when I moved away from Dika's warm body. I then bowed my head. The old sorrow reappeared. Makes me feel guilty again.
"Dika." I swear I never thought of opening a conversation that had never opened in more than a year. "Let's turn it over, let's." I did not hear anything from him. All I felt next was that he held me so tightly. Then nodded.
However, reality is never as sweet as that. Destiny has never been kind enough for this dead soul to have such a beautiful fate. These things have never happened in real life.
I opened my eyes again. I returned to my present time. I returned to my room. Back at the ceiling. My tears are dripping. One drop. Two drops.
Dika is not that stupid to stand in the middle of the road when I know I like running in the corridor. He will never want to be involved in the events that exist in the poetry romance.
I cry. I really do not know myself. I should have thanked God because God had lent me a little piece of secret that he might have kept because it would never have happened.
I should also know that humans will always ask for more. Once they are exposed to God's secret, they will ask for more. Requesting that the secret be granted, realized in the form of real, real events. So that way, they will not feel any more hardships.
I cried uncontrollably. I should know myself. I should have known that Dika would never be mine, again.
Thought provoking story of youth, love, mistakes made with regret that followed during early years in finding oneself.
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