#renjana

[lingkarlabirin]

And She Had to Die

It’s kinda funny how I mourned you like you’re a dead person. But I think I can gladly accept if that’s the case, because that’s what I’m familiar with. But no, this is not me wishing you to die. But still, I am grieving the version of me that loved you so much. ...and she had to die She had to die so the rest of me could still breathe and live. ...and she had to die For you to be happy and unburdened by the love she’s not allowed to give you anymore. ...and she had to die So you can taste the sea while she’s drowning herself in a sea made from her own tears. ...and she had to die So you can still read beautiful writing like this, written for you by her own blood, from her bleeding heart. ...and she had to die. -- Do not resuscitate her. ...because she had to die. -- Dearest Fabila Mahadira, I hope this will be the last time I write something full of love, while I am bleeding from stab wounds inflicted by you with the hidden knife behind your back. Let me die. ...because I had to. -- May 6th, 2018. "This is the love that will never be over." #np - So Damn Beautiful Song by FrankJavCee

[lingkarlabirin]

Sudah Satu Dasawarsa Aku Menyaksikanmu

Sudah satu dasawarsa aku menyaksikanmu. 

Mengamati dari jauh, di balik semak-semak, hingga akhirnya bisa menatap wajahmu kurang dari sejengkal jari. 

Aku menyaksikanmu. 

Semua bentuk dari jiwamu. 

Perubahan dan perkembangan dari tubuhmu. 

Kamu berawal dari seekor serigala. Dan aku manusia yang mengintip dari balik pepohonan. 

Kamu melolong pada rembulan dan aku mendengarkan dengan saksama, mencoba mengerti arti di balik kesedihan yang kamu raungkan setiap malam. 

Kamu melampaui imajinasi dan menjadikanku rembulanmu yang baru. Tapi kali ini kamu tertawa bersamaku. Kita pernah bersama dan banyak cerita yang tertoreh di pijakanku yang berlubang. 

Transformasimu tidak berhenti di situ saja karena kemudian kamu menjadi matahari bagiku. Kita menguasai Bumi. Kamu di siang hari dengan cahayamu, aku bersama malam yang memantulkan cahaya darimu. 

Tapi kita berganti peran dan aku menjadi matahari sementara kamu menjadi lilin dengan sayap besar yang semakin meleleh saat terbang ke arahku. 

Dan kita pun terhenti. 

Kamu pernah menjadi rumah dan aku penghuni tetap. Kepemilikan berganti dan aku hanya singgah. 

Kamu pernah menjadi tempatku berlari dan berbisik hal tersembunyi, di sudut rahasia terpojok. 

Kita pernah bersama di bawah suatu lantai dansa dan kita menjadi dua manusia yang saling bertukar rindu dan kisah. 

Kamu menjadi sesuatu yang selalu aku dambakan dan harap bisa bersamaku sejak awal, sepuluh tahun lalu. 

Aku menjadi sebuah entitas yang kamu akui keberadaannya dan mendapatkan banyak tumpahan kasih darimu. 

Dan kamu, tetap menjadi yang aku butuhkan untuk mengirimkan cinta, di mana perasaanku bermuara. 

Dan kamu, menjadi seseorang yang memberikan cinta di balik saku kemeja. 

Dan kamu, masih tetap menjadi seseorang yang aku jaga sebaik-baiknya. 

Dan kamu, masih menjadi seseorang yang kuberikan rasa percaya. 

Dan kamu, menjadi yang mendukung dan memberikanku banyak rasa untuk dicoba. 

Sudah satu dasawarsa aku menyaksikanmu. 

Aku pikir selama ini aku Si Paling Tahu Tentangmu. Oh betapa angkuhnya, Tuhan pasti tertawa melihatku. 

Sudah satu dasawarsa aku menyaksikanmu. 

Melihatmu dari berbagai spektrum perasaan dan berbagai pengalaman. 

Berbagai sisi, kisah, pengalaman, perjalanan, memori… 

Sudah satu dasawarsa aku menyaksikanmu. Dan kamu masih bisa membuatku terkejut dengan sepak terjangmu. 

Sudah satu dasawarsa aku menyaksikanmu.

Dan kamu, untuk kesekian kalinya berhasil menyakitiku. 

Dan kamu, berhasil menertawakanku tanpa aku bisa melawan. 

Dan kamu, merasa sakit atas luka yang kamu buat-buat. 

Sudah satu dasawarsa aku menyaksikanmu.

Dan kamu, menghabiskan setengahnya untuk melempar kebohongan dan berharap semua akan baik-baik saja. 

Dan aku, sudah tentu akan selalu memaafkanmu dan memberikan kasih yang sama, seperti ‘Ibu’, ingat?

Sudah satu dasawarsa aku menyaksikanmu.

Dan kamu membuatku lupa akan keberadaan diriku sendiri. 

Sudah satu dasawarsa aku menyaksikanmu. 

Dan kamu, menggunakan setengahnya menertawakanku. 

Sudah satu dasawarsa aku menyaksikanmu.

Dan kamu, menjadi kematianku. 

Sudah satu dasawarsa aku menyaksikanmu.

Dan kamu, … 

Dan kamu, apa? 

Kenapa selalu kamu?

Sampai di mana tadi?

Oh.

Sudah satu dasawarsa aku menyaksikanmu. 

Dan kamu, mereduksi eksistensiku hingga tidak bersisa. 

Dan kamu, tetap disaksikan oleh lainnya. 

Dan aku, menghilang. 

--

Sudah satu dasawarsa kamu menyaksikanku.

Dan kita, masih bersama.

--

Teruntuk Fabila Mahadira, terima kasih sudah berani menerima kebahagiaan.

[lingkarlabirin]

Raungan Serigala dalam Ruang Kedap Suara

Malam itu, hal paling kencang yang berdentam di seisi ruangan bukanlah suara dari seseorang yang mengaku manusia. Sambil terus berusaha mematahkan semua identitas yang aku genggam puluhan tahun, manusia tersebut terus bersuara. Di sebelah kananku, Sang Serigala duduk diam mengamati gerak-gerik kami. Serigala tersebut membiarkan diriku larut dan bersandar padanya, membiarkan kakiku yang bergerak cemas dan bahuku yang kaku, juga nyawaku yang perlahan larut dan tenggelam dalam raungan di ruangan yang berisik.

Sang manusia terus mencecar, mencoba menggali lubang pada tanah pijakanku yang sudah sejak lama retak. Sambil tertawa, aku menghiburnya, menjawab dan mengiyakan semua tuduhannya. Tanpa sadar, gemetar membuncah dalam diriku. Tepat sebelum aku benar-benar jatuh ke dasar, sebuah suara memecah bising. Serigala yang dari tadi terdiam hening dan terlihat acuh mengaum perlahan sembari menunjukkan sedikit taring. 

"Tapi dia memang memilikinya…"

Sang Serigala berbicara sembari sudut matanya menoleh ke arahku, seakan mengawasiku. Walau hanya beberapa kata dan terdengar sangat pelan, suara dari sang serigala justru jadi hal paling kencang dan bergema di kepala.

Aku merasa tidak sendiri dalam saat itu. Aku, Sang Bulan, ternyata sedang ditemani lolongan Sang Serigala yang setia dalam malam yang semakin kelam. Hal selanjutnya membuatku termenung. Sebuah dinding kokoh yang tiba-tiba terwujud menghalangi dan membuat jarak yang menjulang tinggi.

Sang Serigala yang ternyata memberi jarak antara aku dan si manusia. Ia tidak lagi mengaum. Ia berhenti memamerkan taringnya untuk mengoyak sang lawan karena ia tahu raungan balasan hanya akan memperparah riuh di kepalaku. Ia memilih melindungiku dengan tenang. Mencondongkan tubuhnya ke depan, mengambil alih ruang agar sang manusia tak lagi bisa menyentuhku.

Lalu, waktu seakan dipaksa berhenti. Tanpa membuang sisa napas, Sang Serigala menghapus jejak keberadaanku di ruangan itu. Memutus paksa benang merah percakapan yang mulai mencekik leherku. Di saat itu, suara-suara jahat di kepala kembali berbisik, ‘Apakah ia muak padamu? Apakah ia lelah melihatmu hancur?’ Terlebih saat kulihat gurat lelah yang pekat di wajahnya malam itu.

Tapi untuk kesekian kalinya, indera perasaku keliru. Ia tidak muak padaku. Ia sedang menyelamatkanku. Menarik tanganku keluar dari sarang sang manusia sebelum nyawaku benar-benar habis tak bersisa.

Ruang besi yang meluncur turun membelah malam itu menjadi saksi bisu. Tidak ada lagi bising. Hanya ada aku, Sang Serigala, dan hening yang menenangkan. Telapak tangannya yang kuat menggenggam erat jemariku, menyalurkan kehangatan pada tubuhku yang masih bergetar. Lantas, mataku jatuh pada luka lama di sudut sikunya. Bekas luka masa kecil yang selalu ia kutuk sebagai sesuatu yang buruk rupa. Sesuatu yang menakutkan.

Aku bergerak dalam satu tarikan napas dan tanpa ragu, kububuhkan sebuah kecupan tepat di atas bekas lukanya. Sang Serigala tidak menarik lengannya menjauh. Ia menatapku diam, membiarkan Sang Bulan yang penuh lubang ini memuja bagian dari dirinya yang paling ia benci.

Di malam itu, kami bukan jadi yang saling mendamba dalam diam dan jarak. Semua sudah berbeda dalam berbagai hal dan bentuk yang sangat membuat tenang. Sang Serigala membuktikan untuk kesekian kalinya bahwa ia adalah pelindung setia Sang Bulan. Dan mendeklarasikan lagi pada semesta bahwa kami adalah dua jiwa penuh luka yang memilih untuk saling menyembuhkan.

Malam semakin pekat saat aku bersiap untuk melaju menjauh. Aku menoleh mencari sosok Sang Serigala di sudut jalan. Di bawah temaram lampu, Sang Serigala berdiri tegap. Dalam diam, pandangannya tetap lekat padaku, mengawasi pergerakanku malam itu, menolak untuk berbalik hingga ia benar-benar yakin Sang Bulan telah ditelan jarak dengan selamat dan kembali ke langit dengan aman.

Dahulu kala, aku selalu berpikir bahwa cinta selalu datang dengan deklarasi agung dan pedang yang dihunus terang-terangan. Ternyata, semesta membuktikan sebaliknya. Ternyata ia bisa mewujud dalam bahu yang enggan bergeser, ruang sempit yang menjadi saksi bisu dua luka yang saling mengecup, dan sepasang mata yang rela berjaga di sudut jalanan gelap. Menjelma menjadi Sang Serigala yang senantiasa menjaga Sang Bulan dalam diam.

Memastikan bahwa Sang Bulan akan selalu bisa kembali pulang ke orbitnya… dan bahwa Sang Serigala akan selalu menjaganya.

--

"The loudest thing in the room wasn't the man psychoanalyzing my trauma; it was the quiet, immovable weight of the man sitting to my right."

[aksaradanrenjana]

A Slither across Eden’s Throat

NATIONAL GUARD BROADCAST: 4 HOURS POST-VIRAL DISSEMINATION. CITIZENS ARE ADVISED TO REMAIN CALM AND STAY INDOORS. STAY AWAY FROM WINDOWS AND LOCK ALL DOORS.

​Samudra gnawed at his fingernails, a nervous habit he had abandoned years ago. Tonight, however, the chaos outside made it impossible to stay still. Nalendra was out there. He had insisted on going out alone this afternoon to pick up the groceries Samudra had failed to buy a week prior.

High-pitched sirens wailed incessantly, and the thrum of helicopter blades felt as though they were hovering just inches above his skull. Samudra stared at his phone; the chat room with Nalendra remained open. Forty missed calls. Still, no answers.

He gripped his hair, rubbing his face in frustration before stepping toward the window to peer out at the unfolding carnage. The grocery store was only four blocks away, Nalendra should have been back half an hour ago. Unless… unless the madness had reached there too.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Samudra cursed. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the door, threw it on, and bolted out of the house. He had barely taken three steps past his front gate when a car, appearing to have lost its brakes, skidded across the asphalt and slammed into his neighbor’s fence. The screech of metal and the deafening thud forced him to cover his ears.

Amoment later, the roar of a helicopter split the sky again. He looked up to find the heavens transformed into a deep, bruised crimson. Whether it was divine wrath or the ash from the burning center, a dark rain began to fall. When Samudra touched it, it left a greasy black smear on his skin.

Five more steps, and a massive explosion shook the very earth beneath his feet. Samudra staggered to the left, clinging to a tree for support, his eyes narrowing as he tracked the blast; it was roughly four blocks away.

​No, no, no.

​His eyes widened. He shook his head in denial, watching rain down as flames began to lick the building in that direction. Shaking violently, he sprinted back to his car. His hands fumbled with the keys, but he managed to ignite the engine and floored it.

​Nalendra. Nalendra. Nalendra.

​His mind could hold no other thought. He tossed his phone onto the passenger seat, his gaze fixed on the wreckage of the streets. He drove through a sea of panicked humanity and through total devastation, desperate to reach the place where Nalendra was supposed to be.

​NATIONAL GUARD BROADCAST: 6 HOURS POST-VIRAL DISSEMINATION. CITIZENS ARE URGED TO REMAIN IN THEIR HOMES. AVOID ALL CONTACT WITH INDIVIDUALS EXHIBITING SYMPTOMS OF INFECTION.

​In the dead of night, Samudra gripped his phone as if it were a lifeline. His entire world depended on it. Nalendra was his life.

He had to find him; whatever the cost, he had to.

​Driven by that singular purpose, Samudra plowed through the anarchy. He swerved around people who suddenly collapsed into convulsions, blood spraying from their mouths. His car jolted violently as another vehicle clipped him, sending him spinning into a barrier. A human body was launched onto his windshield. But instead of dying, the person rose, blood leaking from eyes and mouth. The creature stood with the ferocity of a wild animal, screaming and hammering against the glass.

​“Oh, shit… Shit!” Samudra fumbled with the seatbelt that pinned him down. From the corner of his eye, he saw a glimmer in the dark—his phone screen lit up! Nalendra was calling!

​At that exact moment, the windshield shattered. A woman lunged through the glass, growling, an unnatural liquid dripping from her mouth. Samudra clawed for the phone, but she was faster, throwing herself upon him.

​NATIONAL GUARD BROADCAST: 8 HOURS POST-VIRAL DISSEMINATION. AVOID ALL CONTACT WITH INDIVIDUALS EXHIBITING SYMPTOMS OF INFECTION.

​Within eight hours, the city had become a parade of death. Fires and explosions gutted the skyline; the government was powerless to coordinate the masses or stem the tide of the virus. Sobs competed with the distant whistle of gunfire in the night. Hope vanished in an instant, as if it were a dream impossible to hold.

​“Hello? Sam? Sam! Are you there?!”

​Samudra’s breath came in ragged gasps. He was drenched in blood, and the woman beneath him lay still, fresh gore pooling from her throat. In his right hand, Samudra clutched a jagged shard of glass.

​“Nala, where are you? I’m… I’m coming for you.”

​The connection was muffled and flickering, but he caught Nalendra’s broken voice on the other end: “I’m—I’m in the janitor’s closet at the supermarket. It’s chaos out here, Sam… everyone is dead. Where are you? I’m coming to you!”

​“No!” Samudra shouted. “Stay there! Wait for me!” The line went dead before they could say more. Panic surging, Samudra abandoned the wreck and ran toward the supermarket, armed with a long metal rod scavenged from the ruins.

​NATIONAL GUARD BROADCAST: 9 HOURS POST-VIRAL DISSEMINATION. STATE OF EMERGENCY.

​Samudra shouldn't have been surprised to find that Nalendra had done exactly the same thing. The man was covered in blood, a baseball bat gripped white-knuckled in his hand. He hadn’t listened; he didn’t even know where Samudra was, yet he had stepped into the meat grinder to find him, anyway.

​“Nala!”

​“Sam!”

​They collided in a desperate embrace. But Nalendra wasn’t alone. Tucked behind him, a small girl clung to the hem of his sweater, her body shaking with silent. Samudra looked at him, and Nalendra met his gaze with a matching expression of terror.

“She… she got separated from her parents.”

​“But we—”

​“We have to save who we can, right?”

​It was what they both did. Samudra nodded, refusing to argue while death lurked their surrounding.

“We save who we can.”

​NATIONAL GUARD BROADCAST: 10 HOURS POST-VIRAL DISSEMINATION. THE MILITARY WILL NOW TAKE CONTROL. CITIZENS ARE EXPECTED TO COOPERATE.

​They took refuge in a hollowed-out building, seeking shelter when the chaos became too much to bear. Samudra led the way, the girl in the middle, and Nalendra guarding the rear as they ascended to the rooftop. At the summit, the air no longer smelled of rain or dust. It smelled of copper, ash, and gunpowder. It choked their throat. The view before them was no longer the city they called home, but a sea of fire that looked as though it would never see another morning.

​No one spoke. The little girl pressed herself against Nalendra’s side, staring at the burning horizon.

​“Is this the apocalypse my parents told me about?” she whispered.

​Samudra remained silent. Nalendra had no answer either.

​NATIONAL GUARD BROADCAST: SEEK PROTECTION FROM ALMIGHTY GOD.

​The girl eventually curled up and fell asleep, her head resting against Nalendra’s lap. Nalendra stayed awake with Samudra, the two of them sitting opposite each other. Samudra traced the lines of Nalendra’s face, now masked by grime and blood; he knew he looked no better. They were a mess, uncertain if they would even survive to see the sun rise.

​“I was afraid you’d die.”

“Me too.”

​Selfishly, Samudra would rather die first than walk this broken earth without Nalendra by his side.

​“If we die… what happens to her?” Nalendra glanced down at the child he was sheltering. Samudra watched him, noting the tenderness in the way Nalendra held her. He reached out and gently patted the head of the sleeping girl; she had cried herself into exhaustion.

​“I don’t know. So, let’s just not die, okay?”

​Nalendra let out a short, hollow laugh, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “You plan on living a long time in the middle of all this?”

​Samudra managed a small, weary smile. “As long as you’re alive too.”

Nalendra choked on his own tears.

​“As long as we’re both alive.”

[aksaradanrenjana]

Tulips in the Stable What does it feel like to live inside a grand, magnificent dwelling yet feel so utterly like a stranger? The greetings of people sound so foreign to her ear, even after waking up a thousand times in the same bed where she was born. There isn’t even a single touch that makes her feel as though she was destined for that family.

​All the toys, the height of the piano stool, the massive shelves housing encyclopedias about animals—everything was built for Adrian. That house was never created for her at the first place. Even her name, Ariadne, was a name that forced her to walk forever in the shadows of her older brother.

The old man who inherited the entire wealth of the Montford dynasty would often choke on his cigar, bellowing “Ariadne!” with such thunderous force. ​Yet, when Ariadne approached him, the man would spit out his mouthful of smoke. He would command his right-hand man to cast away the only "vermin" in the mansion by saying “I called for Adrian, why is Ariadne here?! Go, take her far from my sight.” And this didn't happen once, or twice. Even at twenty years old, every time Mr. Montford called, she already stood ready to turn on her heel and leave.

​Because nothing in this house was ever about her.

It was always about Adrian.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

​Except when that name came from those small, beautiful lips. It sounded truly… so exquisite. It reminded Ariadne of the petals of a tulip, curving so gracefully. She wondered, would it feel that soft, too?

​“Ari,” was how Myrine called her. That woman created a name that, for the first time, made Ariadne feel like she was truly herself. Not the sister of the all-capable and ever-reliable Adrian, nor the discarded youngest child in the midst of the rotten Montford dynasty.

​Ariadne had always surrendered everything for his sake. Her dreams, her hobbies, and even her birthdays, so that Adrian could step into the spotlight the house provided for the proud Montford heir. She forgot the last time she remembered her own birthday or desired something for herself. But, when that girl with the sweet dimples smiled at her, Ariadne knew she wanted that woman for herself.

​She wanted her. So she called Myrine, Mine. Because for heaven’s sake, Mine was her only desire in this world.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

​“Homer is a Lusitano, a Portuguese horse breed. Sergio said he purposely kept this horse for me. He chose this white horse to be my friend; he said I must be lonely among all those pigs.”

​These thousands of hectares of land were clearly used by the Montford dynasty for their livestock meat business. The mansion sat far from their ranch, in accordance with American regulations. The Montford family also owned cattle, horses, and various other animals. Unlike her family members who used cars when visiting the ranch, Ariadne preferred to ride with Sergio—the stable manager—to the fields.

​“Don’t stand too close to Homer’s mouth, Mine.” Ariadne, who was removing the saddle from Homer’s body, pulled the horse slightly to divert his attention from Myrine, who seemed curious about him.

​“Will you tell me your reason for naming him Homer? It’s not a common name, you know?” Myrine smiled, and though still hesitant, her fingers slowly rose to approach the white horse’s head.

​Ariadne cupped that hand and guided Myrine to stroke Homer’s head. She gently showed her how they should pet a horse, their fingers intertwining amidst Homer’s fine coat.

​“Because Homer’s legs are strong. Sergio said Lusitano horses have incredible strength for long journeys.”

​Myrine hummed, seemingly trying to process the information while marveling at how Homer, now back in his stall, was so obedient under her touch.

​“Are you planning to go far away?”

​Ariadne removed her riding hat and her boots while nodding.

“I named him Homer because, to me, 'home' is something very far away.”

​“Your home is far from this ranch.”

​“Yes, and that’s a good thing. But I know you understand—this isn’t about that haunted mansion.” And Myrine laughed at that. Everyone else might be mesmerized by the grandeur of the Montford mansion, but Ariadne was the only person who told Myrine that the mansion was full of ghosts.

​“Argh!” Ariadne winced as she released the strap crossing her thigh; the pain was more than she could suppress. Myrine approached her and brushed aside her skirt, revealing a long scar across her thigh. It was the same kind of scar she had seen on Myrine’s body, only Myrine’s had faded. Ariadne’s, however, never faded because it was made fresh every week.

​“Does it hurt?” Myrine asked. Ariadne instead took the woman’s hand, nodding slightly. “I’m used to it.”

​“Can Homer carry the weight of two adult women?” Ariadne tightened her grip on Myrine’s hand with a questioning look.

“I think so? When I was little, Sergio taught me to ride. The weight of Sergio and a younger me should be equal to the two of us?”

​“In that case, wherever that ‘home’ is. No matter how far it is, I want to go with you.”

​“Mine?”

​“What is it?”

​Ariadne stared intently at the woman before her, searching for a single shred of doubt in those eyes. However, she found none. Since Myrine’s arrival, Ariadne felt she was no longer entirely in a foreign world. Because even from the first time they shook hands, she felt that Myrine understood her. All of her feelings. And she knew that Myrine knew exactly how it felt to have no place to return to.

“Nothing. Tomorrow, I’ll take you for a ride with Homer, yeah?”

​She saw courage in Myrine’s eyes. Their hands gripped each other tightly. Ariadne gently caressed Myrine’s thumb.

​And for the first time, ‘home’ felt so close. It was as if she could finally reach out and touch it.

[aksaradanrenjana]

On February 14, Renjana and I spent our first ever Valentine's Day together. As if it was a second nature, both of us already had it in mind to treat each other with sweets just enough to make the dentist cringe at the sheer amount. Though I had a chocolate stash that was enough to be my emotional crutch for the rest of the week, nothing was sweeter than having Renjana's lips on mine.

[aksaradanrenjana]

Membelai Api

Bercak-bercak kecil dilihatnya mulai warnai aspal abu yang sepanjang jalan jadi pemandangannya. Mungkin rintik itu juga mampir pada punggungnya, pundaknya. Tapi jaket Raka itu cukup tebal untuk redam segala hal, baik gigil, gundah, maupun kepalanya yang jadi berisik. Rintik selanjutnya barulah sambangi pucuk hidungnya. Pipi yang tengah bersandar pada punggung kokoh Raka, kemudian menjauh untuk intip lelaki itu melalui spion yang demi apa pun, langsung mengarah ke mukanya. Raka bahkan tidak marah meski helm mereka sering saling adu. Katanya mungkin, kapan lagi Araska bisa dan sudi selengket ini?

“Rak, gerimis, nih?”

“Terus? Kan cuma air?”

“Gak jelas lo,” Bibirnya merengut, dagunya ditumpukan pada pundak Raka, sengaja berbicara agak keras supaya langsung masuk ke telinga yang bebal itu meski terhalang helm, “Bentar lagi gede ini, nepi dulu kek. Cari warung atau apa? Masih jauh ini rumah gue.”

Yang bersikeras antarkan dia ke rumah tampaknya agak menulikan pendengaran, Raka malah menarik salah satu tangan Araska untuk menyelip dan bersemayam dalam sakunya.

“Sinting!” Memang sinting, siapa juga yang bersikeras mengantarkannya pulang seusai mereka desak-desakan menonton konser Vierra? Ia bisa pulang sendiri kok, sungguh. Ia bisa ikut temannya yang lain yang searah rumahnya, ia bisa kok nego ojek pangkalan supaya bersedia antarkannya ke rumah dengan harga belas kasih, ia juga bisa kok tidur berdiri di tengah lapangan ini sampai besok tanpa harus merepotkan Raka.

Apa pun itu, kecuali merepotkan Raka. Raka yang rumahnya betulan tak searah, ujung ke ujung.

Tapi bisa apa dia, begitu Raka sudah bawa dua helm, satu sudah dia pakai sendiri, dan satu lagi malah dipasang paksa pada batok kepalanya saat ia sedang sibuk menolak dan menjalaskan secara runtut lima puluh enam alasan mengapa Raka tidak perlu mengantarnya. Sekali lagi, bisa apa dia ketika Raka sudah tersenyum sambil mengancingkan helmnya, lalu menepuk jok belakang motor Bapaknya yang dibangga-banggakan itu?

Araska kadang benci mengetahui fakta bahwa diri gigihnya belakangan terlalu mudah luluh.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“KAN KATA GUE JUGA, HUJAN GEDE!” Ujarnya ketika motor itu mau tak mau harus menepi entah di ruko kosong milik siapa. Berlomba-lomba mereka turun dari motor untuk meneduh di halamannya. Kanopinya kecil, tempias ke baju-baju mereka pula. Ketimbang Araska yang merengut karena tak terima ucapannya semula tak didengar, Raka malah lebih nrimo. Sudah lepas helm dan rogoh saku jeansnya, untuk merogoh rokok. Batang tembakau itu digigit di ujung bibirnya, senyumnya jahil tapi Araska benci itu karena Raka itu… Selalu memukau.

“Ya udah sih, tunggu reda dulu, Ar. Gue sebenernya bawa tuh jas hujan, tapi cuma satu setel. Gue pake atasnya, lo pake celananya. Gitu kali, ya?”

“Terus apa gunanya, sialan… Udah lah nunggu reda aja. Orang rumah gue juga gak nyariin kalau perginya sama lo.”

“Iya lah, gue kan anak ketiganya Bunda.” Mendengar itu, Araska memutar bola matanya malas. Ya siapa sih yang tidak suka Raka? Bunda berkali-kali bilang Raka anaknya sopan, baik, pintar, dan mahir. Mahir betulkan keran mampet, mahir pasang lampu, mahir kembalikan email Bunda yang sudah lupa password sembilan kali. Bunda selalu senang kalau Araska berteman dengan Raka. Tapi, tampaknya Bunda juga tidak jeli mengenai seberapa berbahayanya laki-laki bernama Raka ini.

Bunda tidak mungkin tahu, apa bahayanya berada dekat dengan Raka, berhimpit-himpitan di antara orang-orang lain yang meneduh. Kerumunannya membawa mereka terpojok dan Araska harus terima bahwa pemandangan di hadapannya adalah Raka dengan rambut basah tak beraturan yang pada ujungnya menetes bulir-bulir air. Bulir air itu menetes, jatuh pada batang hidung lancipnya, menggelincir turun melewati bibir. Bibir yang bergerak ke samping kala hembuskan asap rokok, supaya asap itu tak menyembur pada wajahnya.

Bunda tidak akan pernah tahu kan, seberapa bahayanya Raka?

Ia juga jadi ikut melepas helm, karena kerumunan orang yang meneduh malam itu semakin banyak. Mau tak mau ia maju sedikit demi sedikit. Membuat mereka bertambah dekat.

“Kedinginan gak, Ar?” Raka menatap, ia selalu jadi satu-satunya pemberani.

Araska? Dia menggeleng dan menunduk, memperhatikan sepasang sepatu lusuh mereka kini saling bersentuhan.

“Padahal kalau putar arah ke kosan gue lebih dekat sih. Takut lo kedinginan.”

Ia mendongak, memberanikan diri menatap Raka yang hanya berjarak beberapa inci saja. Reflek Raka pun mencabut rokok dari bibirnya, mematikannya dengan menggerus ujungnya pada tiang kanopi di sebelah mereka. Hening selama beberapa detik, mereka hanya saling bertatap-tatapan. Tapi Araska tak terlalu lama menatap lelaki itu, sebab ia sadari, pundak Raka yang tak terbalut jaket begitu basah karena pemuda itu berada di paling ujung.

Selama ini, Raka terkena hujan dan tempias paling banyak.

“Ke sinian berdirinya.” Ia tak pikir panjang ketika menarik Raka begitu dekat, deru nafasnya bahkan terasa membelai di samping telinganya. Araska agak menahan nafas. Tapi wangi Raka yang sedari tadi menyelubunginya, kini semakin terasa pekat. Memang benar, keberanian itu sesuatu yang harus ditemukan.

Ia membiarkan dahinya bertumpu pada pundak Raka yang basah.

“Habis reda, kita pulang ke kosan lo aja, ya? Baju lo basah, Rak.”

[curhatarenjana]

"Kamu tidak perlu mengejar, jika yang kau kejar tidak menoleh."

-Renjana