As "Cherry Wine" by Hozier filled the room with its haunting melody, we lapsed into silence, content to let the music and the sound of the rain envelop us. I was certain he had drifted off to sleep by now, his breathing steady and calm. Then, the gentle strains of "Anchor" by Novo Amore began to play, casting a tranquil atmosphere over the room.
"Have you ever considered that life might be meaningless?" I found myself blurting out suddenly, breaking the silence.
He stirred, clearly taken aback by the unexpected question. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know. I feel like we've just completely had no clue about life like we thought we were, you know? Like maybe at some point we're just meaningless creature. We made up purposes ourselves, thinking about stuff that eventually be worthless, feeling all those emotions for nothing. Where do you think we would go? What would we achieve?"
"That's quite a profound perspective," he remarked, his voice tinged with admiration.
"I don't know, maybe I'm just overthinking it a little bit," I replied, feeling a bit self-conscious about the depth of our conversation.
"I've had thoughts about it myself too," he admitted, his tone thoughtful. "Life really is pointless in many ways. Everything we do ultimately leads to our own end. But perhaps that's the beauty of it. We have the freedom to create our own meaning, to find purpose in the experiences we have and the emotions we feel. It's all about how we choose to perceive our lives. We're the ones responsible for shaping our own destinies."
His words resonated with me, offering a glimmer of clarity in the midst of my existential ponderings. "You're right," I agreed, feeling a sense of reassurance wash over me. "Maybe it's not about finding some grand purpose, but rather about embracing the journey and making the most of the moments we have."
He nodded in agreement, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Exactly. Life is what we make of it."
As we lay down in companionable silence, the weight of our existential musings lifted, replaced by a newfound sense of peace and acceptance. It was a comforting reminder that, despite the uncertainties and complexities of life, we ultimately hold the power to shape our own destinies.
"But i don't know... there are many stuffs that i want to ask. I just don't know to whom."
"You seemed pretty much nihilistic about everything."
"Shut up, optimist freak," I retorted with a wry smile.
"Guess we're polar opposites," he mused, returning my smile.
I couldn't help but smile back at him, feeling a sense of warmth and camaraderie between us. The music shifted to "Elephant Crossing" by Edwin Raphael, then "Meet Me in the Woods" by Lord Huron, adding to the contemplative atmosphere.
"You know," he said suddenly, breaking the silence, "I think you'd make a great philosopher. A nihilistic philosopher, like Friedrich Nietzsche."
I laughed at the bizarre comparison, "God, that sounds way too depressing."
As he laughed, his dimples deepening, I couldn't help but steal glances at him, captivated by his infectious joy. But when our eyes finally met, I quickly averted my gaze, feeling a rush of embarrassment flood over me. I chastised myself internally for my lack of confidence, wondering if those bold characters in movies ever shit their pants as they gaze at their beautifully crafted figure of their crush off-screen. The thought of staring into his eyes with unwavering boldness made me want to rip my own face off.
Suddenly, I was aware of the discomfort in my lower regions, my erection caused a pain as if it had broken. I tried to hide my discomfort with a forced chuckle, but the awkwardness of the situation was palpable. "Wait, what's wrong?" he asked, concern etched in his voice as he released my wrists. "Was my grip too strong?"
I shook my head quickly, trying to alleviate his worry. "No, no. I'm fine, don't worry," I replied, mustering a feeble smile before discreetly adjusting my position. It was a mortifying moment, and I silently cursed my body for betraying me. It was Capital EMBARRASSING.
"Okay, then," he said, though I could sense a lingering unease in his tone.
As I grappled with my embarrassment, a fleeting thought crossed my mind. I wished I had the courage to lean in, cup his cheek, and press my lips to his, to finally act on the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. But in that moment, all I could do was suppress my desires and hope for a future where I could find the bravery to make my intentions known.
As the rain subsided, signaling the approach of early evening, Hesti stirred from her slumber. I couldn't help but wonder if she had caught wind of our playful scuffles earlier, or if she harbored any suspicions about the dynamic between Hasbi and me. However, such concerns faded into the background as my immediate focus shifted to ensuring Hesti's well-being.
"Are you sure you're up for heading home alone?" I inquired, concern lacing my tone.
Hesti nodded, though her expression betrayed a hint of weariness. "I'll manage, don't worry about me. Thanks for everything."
Despite her being stubborn about going home alone, both Hasbi and I were even more stubborn about accompanying her home. After some back and forth, we finally convinced her of the wisdom in our plan, and she relented, providing us with directions to her residence.
"It was almost five minutes bicycle ride from your house."
"Really?" I asked her while tidying her things. She nodded. "I didn't know we live in the same block?"
"Yeah, about that.."
With Hesti leading the way, I hastily mounted her bicycle while Hasbi fired up his Vario motorcycle. We traversed the familiar streets with a sense of urgency, eager to ensure Hesti's safe arrival home. As we approached her gate, I quickly dismounted and hurried to open it, allowing Hasbi to follow closely behind.
As Hesti directed Hasbi and me towards her home, I pedaled furiously on her bicycle, determined to keep pace with his Vario motorcycle. Hastening to catch up, I was greeted by the sight of Hesti's imposing gate—a stark contrast to the more modest residences in our neighborhood, including Gilang's.
As we approached, Hesti instructed me to slide open the gate. Disembarking from her bicycle, I hurried to comply, allowing Hasbi to navigate through the opening.
To my surprise, Hesti's house turned out to be much closer to mine than I had realized. In fact, it was the very same house I passed by each day on my way to school—a grand mansion nestled near Pakuwon City and the Surabaya Technology Institute.
Her residence exuded an air of opulence, with towering pillars framing a balcony that spanned two floors. Countless windows adorned its facade, while a massive oak door served as the grand entrance. The front yard, though relatively compact, boasted two majestic palm trees and a paved pathway flanked by patches of grass.
"Wait, you live here?" I exclaimed, incredulous.
Hesti's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she nodded. "Yeah."
"Fuck dude," I muttered, awestruck by the sheer magnitude of her home.
As we entered Hesti's grand residence, I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer opulence of her surroundings. Hasbi offered to assist Hesti inside, but she politely declined, insisting that she was perfectly capable of making her own way. In jest, I suggested that Hasbi should carry me instead, eliciting a chuckle from Hesti.
We were greeted by a woman clad in an elegant white outfit, who I presumed to be Hesti's mother, despite their dissimilar appearances. She expressed her gratitude for our assistance in bringing Hesti home safely, remarking on the unexpected company. To my surprise, Hasbi accepted her invitation to enter, glancing at me before doing so. Feeling somewhat out of place but curious nonetheless, I followed suit.
The interior of the mansion was just as extravagant as its exterior, reminiscent of sets from lavish television dramas. A grand entrance hall welcomed us, featuring two sweeping staircases adorned with plush red carpeting. Six imposing pillars flanked the space, supporting an intricately detailed balcony adorned with black marble balustrades. The walls were painted a rich shade of crimson, embellished with ornate floral motifs. Despite its grandeur, there was an eerie ambiance that lingered, reminded me of the house from every horror movies that the Main Character do not wish to enter, unless if they're white.
Below the stairs, the kitchen sprawled out, equipped with an array of tables, chairs, and cabinets stocked with gleaming dinnerware. A colossal glass chandelier suspended from the ceiling cast a soft glow over the foyer, dwarfing the smaller fixture that illuminated the adjacent hallway.
I whispered to Hasbi, "what if the lamp fell off?"
"Then we're both gonna die."
Despite knowing Gilang's father was a lawyer, it was evident that their family couldn't afford such opulence. It felt as though Hesti's father must have been a successful businessman or held a prominent position of some sort. My impression of her now was not that chatty brat but Chinese Bruce Vawyne.
Hasbi and I made our way to what I presumed to be the common room, taking our seats side by side. I couldn't help but berate myself for not leaving when the opportunity presented itself. Now, here I was, seated in a plush armchair beside him, our legs nearly touching. The lady, whom I assumed to be Hesti's mother, entered the room bearing a tray of tea cups.
"Hesti doesn't invite her friends very often," i wonder why, "i'm glad that her friends are coming." She put the tea on the wooden flower carved table, i felt like i was in the episode of The Crown. Was she always like this with guests no matter if it's just a friend of her daughter or somebody as important as a business colleague or a royal family.
"Well, she's probably resting now. You know, she told me she didn't feel good last night," she continued, her tone tinged with concern. "I told her not to go earlier because of her condition, but since she's a very stubborn kid... I was worried she might have passed out. She even used her bicycle because she said it would make her sweaty, and she'd be fine. She didn't listen. Now she's ended up being such a bother for you kids."
"It's alright," Hasbi reassured her.
"It's okay, I wouldn't mind either, but is she always like that? Being stubborn even when she's sick?"
"It is alright," Hasbi said.
"It's okay, i wouldn't mind too, but is she always like that? Being stubborn and all even if she's sick?"
"Not often. Once in a while," the woman replied with a sigh. "I've been taking care of her since she was little. She's a special kid. It's a bit difficult for her to socialize or blend in with her friends. Even after her dad passed away and her sister ran away from home, it's been tough for her to accept the situation. She never tries to disappoint anyone, even though the world she lives in keeps disappointing her. And her mom... well, she's often on business trips, so she pretty much has no time to be around."
As she spoke, I couldn't help but wonder if this woman was Hesti's nanny. Why was she sharing all this personal information with us? Hasbi's reaction seemed almost nonchalant, as if he had already known this. Especially when i was pretty much in awe, he wasn't really that much surprised. Runaway sister? Dead parents? Being neglected and left alone in a huge mansion with God-knows-whom? Shit, she must be lonely.
"I feel bad for the kid sometimes, you know? She's always so... lonely. Such a sweet kid," the woman added with a hint of sadness in her voice.
"Yeah, she is."
"It's nice to see you all visited," she smiled warmly at us, her eyes carrying a mix of gratitude and exhaustion. "Please, drink your tea."
We both nodded in thanks and took a sip of the hot beverage, careful not to burn our tongues. The warmth of the tea felt comforting amidst the chilly atmosphere of the mansion.
"Thanks for the tea," I said, setting down my cup on the table.
"It's my pleasure," she replied, her smile unwavering.
Then, she turned to Hasbi, who was still savoring his tea, and placed a gentle hand on his thigh. "How is Melody?"
"She's doing great. She had jaw surgery a few months ago," Hasbi replied, setting his cup down as well.
"Oh, good for her," she said with a hint of relief in her voice.
"Does she ever pay a visit?" Hasbi inquired.
"No, not recently. The last time she visited was when you were here, almost nine, twelve months ago? It's hard to keep track of time," she chuckled softly. "But she seemed to have opened up to Hesti more, thankfully."
"Yeah, they're always on the phone every night, for once in a while."
"It's such a relief to hear that," Hasbi remarked, his expression unreadable.
I glanced at Hasbi with a puzzled look, silently urging him to explain what was going on. A sister who ran away from home and cut off all contact with the family? It sounded eerily similar to Julia's situation. Not that I was comparing, but I couldn't help but notice the parallels between Hesti's life and mine. We seemed to be mirror images of each other, opposite in almost every way. It made me contemplate the nature of our connection. Perhaps she understood what I had gone through, just as I understood her. Abandoned by your father due to their mortality? Workaholic mothers? Gained or lost a sister out of nowhere? Pretty crazy coincidence.
Maybe meeting Hesti was some sort of sign, a signal that our paths were meant to cross. That somehow, at some point, our friendship was destined to be woven in the pattern of time. But who the fuck believe with destiny right?
"She said she missed you a lot."
"Does she?"
"Very much."
"Well, you can tell her to bring her ass over here to tell us herself," she sounded a little bit pissed, "she can't even bother to step into this place without her and her mom at each other's throats."
As we stepped out, I found myself staring at Hesti's family picture that stood proudly before the stairs. Seven people posed in it, with an old lady holding a stick in the center, dressed in a traditional Chinese outfit complete with a hair bun adorned with decorative sticks. Every woman in the picture had her hair in a bun with sticks.
There was a young Hesti standing in front of her father, looking a little sad, on the left side of the old woman. Beside him stood a man younger than her father, presumably her uncle. On the right side of her mother stood a taller guy who looked incredibly charming, with a sweet smile that warmed my chest, i bet he was her brother. They were all wearing matching red Chinese outfits, except for the grandmother, who was dressed in yellow. But where was her sister? The picture must have been taken after her sister ran away.
Hasbi and i said farewell to the nice nanny lady, after she ordered a man butler to grab one huge watermelon and some cold pies. We reached outside the gate. Rolled open the gate while Hasbi let his bike out. He handed me the helmet then i put it on.
"Not trying to be rude," I began tentatively, "but I think her sister is egotistic for leaving her."
Hasbi's brows furrowed in surprise. "How could you say that?"
"What would even be the reason for such a life-altering decision anyway?" I continued, my thoughts racing. "Is it out of boredom? Toxic family environment? Being too neglected? To start a brand new life with complete erasure of your past characters?"
"You don't understand what she went through to even make such a decision," Hasbi countered, his tone serious.
A surge of emotions threatened to overwhelm me. The bitterness of abandonment, the weight of disappointment—it all swirled within me, threatening to spill out. But I couldn't let it consume me entirely, not now.
"True, but.. I just.." I trailed off, grappling with the tumult of feelings inside me. I couldn't bring myself to meet Hasbi's gaze, fearing what he might see in my eyes. This pain, this rage—the ancient feelings resurfaced. The feeling of lost. "Being completely abandoned by the person you loved sucks the most, you know."
For a moment, there was silence between us, heavy and pregnant with unspoken thoughts. Hasbi's gaze bore into me, and I could feel the weight of his scrutiny. Then, he looked away, lost in contemplation.
"I supposed it is," he turned away from me.
Sensing the need to shift the conversation away from my emotional outburst, I interjected, "You sound like you know her sister well?"
"She's my best friend. We shared an apartment," Hasbi revealed, his tone tinged with a hint of nostalgia.
"Oh," I murmured, processing this new information. "I didn't know much about her, honestly, but her life must've sucked. Even if she's living in a mansion," I added with a wry chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood. Hasbi turned the machine on, without saying anything, i get onto the back. Feeling all nervous.
"Er... what if we ride around town for a bit?" Hasbi finally spoke up, breaking the silence that hung between us.
I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Why?"
"I don't know, we could use some fresh air, and the weather is rather poetic." Hasbi suggested with smile drawn on his face from the rearview mirror. We made eye contact.
"That would mean we're wasting gasoline too," I pointed out.
Hasbi turned to look at me, a playful glint in his eyes. "I've never taken you as one of the environmentally friendly guys?"
"You know nothing, Hasbi Assegaf!" I retorted, unable to suppress a grin at his teasing.
"Good for you," he chuckled, "Jon Winter reference, right?"
My heart swelled, uncertain whether it was from the chill of the post-rain air or the proximity of Hasbi's thigh against mine, but I couldn't ignore the subtle stirring below my waist. "alright, where are we going?"
For almost thirty minutes, we meandered through the streets, passing by Dharmawiyata College and venturing deep into the heart of the city. The drizzle threatened to soak us completely, I regret for not bringing any jacket that day. Throughout our journey, neither of us said anything, broken only by sporadic laughter when passing cars sprayed water from rain-filled puddles. I hastily withdrew my hand from where it had lingered on his thigh, feeling the warmth and strength beneath his loose chino pants. His reaction was subdued, either oblivious or perhaps secretly relishing the contact. Couldn't be the second one.
As we paused at a red light, his gaze met mine through the rearview mirror. His smile was radiant, his lips full and inviting, dimples accentuated by the scruff on his unshaven jaw, and the creases around his eyes spoke of a life well-lived. With each passing moment, he seemed to grow more captivating. The more i stared at him, the more beautiful this guy get.
Maybe because of the angle and perfect lighting, that's why.
We passed by a variety of scenes: a group of guys drenched from playing basketball in the rain, a courier guy, a guy with motorcycle hastily donning a raincoat at the bus stop, two children taking playful sips from a puddle, a man below a building with a backpack and earphones, and a flurry of vehicles with their lights on, newly turned on streetlamps. Both illuminating the dimming street. The sky transformed from a pale white to the encroaching darkness of dusk.
Pulling up in front of my house, Hasbi parked the bike and we both chuckled at our damp shirts. Despite my offer of a towel and a spare shirt, he politely declined, as he always did. He is probably allergic to me. I knew damn full well he was freezing.
After a brief moment of tidying up his belongings, Hasbi announced, "I think I should head home."
"Yeah, sure," I replied, a tinge of reluctance in my voice.
He nodded, pausing at the door as if hesitating to leave. I followed him to the doorway, where we stood facing each other. With his backpack slung over his shoulder, he looked at me with an expression that was difficult to read, a strange mix of politeness and something else lingering beneath the surface. A strange tension hanging in the air. He kept biting his lips.
With his backpack slung over his shoulder, Hasbi looked at me with his usual warm smile graced his lips as he said, "Well, it's been nice spending some time with you, Raf."
"You too, Hasbi," I replied, returning his smile.
"Thanks for the hospitality."
"Yeah, no problem, though, I wish you'd stay for a little while." I showed playful grin.
"I will, next time."
I offered him my hand, but Hasbi surprised me by going in for a hug instead.
The warmth of his body covered in mine, his hands resting gently on my back. I could feel the softness of his hair brushing against my cheek, carrying the scent of his cherry blossom shampoo mixed with lavender. It was a comforting scent, familiar and soothing. I felt like he was a walking perfume product. He was always taking care of his body odor, the fact that he also regularly using hand sanitizer prove how he always managed to pay attention to hygiene. Not all men did that, but the one who always does usually somebody who really have huge sense of self-care, passion and quite discipline ass. Not to mention, Hasbi seemed to be that type of person who'd beyond thoughtful that he wanted other people to feel comfortable around him.
I don't know, maybe that's like a common awareness and basic hygiene. But for me it was a great deal. He's like a perfect human being and a really great friend that anyone could ever have.
As we pulled away from the hug, he flashed me a smile before heading towards his bike. With a pang of sadness, I watched him disappear into the distance. The small gate of my house, half-rusty and usually left open during the day, remained open as he left.
"'I don't think you're a redflag'" Julia's voice suddenly broke the silence behind me. "That guy wants you."
I hope so! "Shut up he doesn't."
"Whatever. Not gonna argue with a stubborn brat."
"He's totally straight."
"As straight as spaghetti. You like him too don't you? You talk to him like a fucking 14 year old girl."
"No, i-" i stopped myself seeing she was all grinning and chuckling. "I guess?"
"He's a cute guy."
I took a deep breath, fell on the couch, "yeah, he kinda is."
"How did you two even friends anyway?"
"He's he professor's assistant. He helped me with bunch of stuff."
"A smartass too."
I always attracted to smartass for some reason. First, Julia was also a smart ass. She used to do great in highschool too, straight A student--like this one time when she used to get 100 in calculus quiz and my mom and i celebrated it by going out in a restaurant. But she just didn't really put too much effort in herself, she was a bright student with stashed away potentials. Thanks to her trauma and how poor her family is. She always felt like nothing was worth fighting for anymore. Until when she decided to be serious for once, focusing on her study and aced every test. But the government changed the system that wouldn't qualify her to get accepted to the university she wanted. Even though my mom offered to pay for her course, she rejected it. Then somehow she gave up and work as a full timer in a chicken place. I always admired her, you know. Not sure if my crush on her was pure love or just an admiration too. For the two years of our relationship, we didn't do much but comfort eachother. She took me out, i took her out. Sometimes she let me eat her out. We never did anything beyond that.
I closed my eyes with my palms, groaned, "what the hell am i doing?"
"Why don't you just go for it? He likes you dumbass."
"That's impossible, i mean what's to like? Hesti is a lot better than me. He probably like her anyway."
"Fuck her, how did you even know he likes her?"
"He's her sister's best friend."
She made a confused expression, half mocking, "The hell's that got to do with anything?"
"I don't know, they seemed really close. I think they lived together."
"Dude, he lived with a girl, he is not in relationship with, could he get anymore gay than that?"
"How could you know that they're not in relationship?"
Julia rolled her eye, before shooting me with sharp dead serious look, "the guy literally spare his time to be with you, constantly, saying all that flirt-ish stuff? Have you ever in a million spot the guy bringing his girlfriend on the table other than Hesti?"
As Julia's words sunk in, I couldn't help but feel a pang of denial. "Maybe he likes Hesti," I muttered, almost convincing myself. Because there is no way!
"You are so stupid, you know that? How could you even be so blind about the whole thing?" Julia's frustration was palpable.
"He's not gay," I insisted, clinging to the hope that I wasn't misreading the situation.
She let out a sigh, rubbing her nose bridge in frustration before throwing her hands up. "Fine, whatever."
Julia went to the kitchen, i heard the refrigerator door opened, "you know, i thought so too about Rani. I thought she was like every girl who always act flirty towards other girl but never actually had any feelings towards them. We do a lot of stuff together, having fun and all that. She spent a lot of time more with you than me, because she's more like your friend. I thought she likes you and used me and Gilang to get close with you. I got jealous."
Emerging from the kitchen with a bottle of my guava juice, Julia's words hit me. "Wait, when was this? After we broke up or...?"
"Before and after," she confirmed.
"Is that what triggered your..." I trailed off, knowing exactly what I was referring to.
"Mostly. I don't know. It was years ago. But the good thing is, I survived, and she confessed."She proceed to sat on th chair with legs crossed, "you know that she actually was using your friendship to get to close to me, how manipulative was that? I was blessed."
I was so distracted about the fact that she relapsed a year after our break up, ignoring the glittering joy and pride in her eyes, "Damn, I didn't know that. I'm sorry," I replied, feeling a pang of guilt.
"The point is, just fucking go for it. Just fucking kiss him and fuck. Isn't it that hard? You know you can't possibly make us wait this long. That is pointless. It's getting bore."
"It's not that easy. If he's really gay, what are the odds of him wanting to date me? He probably has his type, someone like... maybe one of the professors, a sugar daddy? Not to mention, he probably already has his eye on one of his gym buddies or something," I argued, feeling defeated.
Rolling her eyes, Julia shook her head. "Well, good luck suffering."
I only stared at her as her back disappeared.
Julia's words echoed in my mind, stirring up a self-doubt within my heart. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was gay, and even if he wasn't, there was no way he could ever be interested in someone like me. There is no way he'd ever want to be in a relationship with just a loser who had an unhealthy obsession over him. There is no frigging way.
We were polar opposites in so many ways. He was like a bird, soaring to new heights, while I was stuck in a pit of self-doubt and despair. I didn't want to drag him down with me. He deserved someone who could match his energy and lift him up, not someone who would weigh him down. He deserve someone whom he could take flying.
Fucking hell, i'm crazy, FOR A DAMN GUY. And for what? Because he asked for your feelings!
I laughed, for some reason. It was hilarious. The fact that i really think that he really do care for me is hilarious. I made up a version of him in my mind that he'd had the same feeling as me to him. The version who'd gave me thousands of hugs, somebody who could heal this loneliness, a companion of life who will get through with me during the best times and the worst. Someone who'd stay beside me forever. It was all just a ridiculous fantasy. What a fucking idiot.
But the laughter was too hard, the situation i had in mind kept getting funnier. I mistook his compassion as love, his friendliness as a flirtation, his kindness as a form of mutual interest. I've told myself countless of times about having feelings for someone is stupid, yet i'd never listen.
Julia's words rang true. Maybe I would take a chance. Maybe I would finally muster the courage to see what could be. Maybe I would risk the suffering for a chance at something real.
"Maybe i will. Maybe i will."