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the beeping noise from the machine next to fakhri made him uneasy. the smell of medicine and anaesthetic filled the room. the hospital was eerily quiet that night, or maybe the ringing in fakhri’s ear was just too loud.
his sad eyes trailed to scan the latter’s features. bits of dried blood could still be seen on both their clothes. fakhri felt his stomach hurl. he stood next to ayam’s bedside, vision blurry from the tears.
now, ayam’s in deep slumber. there’s no guarantee if he’ll ever wake up. his friend is fighting for life, and it’s eating fakhri up inside. he felt awful.
seeing ayam with a pool of blood made fakhri feel sick. he’d never imagined the latter to be in such a state. helpless, fakhri cried his heart out again. his bloodied knuckles pushed against the bed sheets as he searched for ayam’s hand frantically.
“ayam, aku mintak maaf,” fakhri choked, holding ayam’s hand tightly. the latter’s small hands fit perfectly with his. “aku sayang kau, yam. jangan buat macam ni kat aku.” he cried out again.
for once in his life, fakhri regretted fighting.
— day 1
ayam is still sleeping.
fakhri brought flowers. for some reason, white lilies reminded him of the latter. elegant and pure; is what best describes ayam. when they first met, fakhri thought he was off putting and mean when in reality, he was just trying to protect himself and also the people he cared about.
ayam wanted to be somebody.
the soft heart monitor keeps on beeping. each second pass by the beep gets softer and fainter. fakhri clenched his jaw. he placed the flowers next to the bedside table, eyes starting to swell with salty tears.
he hates seeing ayam in such a condition. but what can he do? if only he listened to what ayam had to say, then maybe they wouldn't all be in a horrible situation. who is the one to blame?
fakhri threw his head back and took a deep breath. the tears are already making their way out, and he chose to let them flow. what can fakhri do this time? get in more fights? no, ayam wouldn’t like that. punch walls? no, ayam still wouldn’t like that.
fakhri wiped his tears away and grabbed the latter’s hand.
“ayam,” he called out, voice cracked from trying to sustain his tears. he caressed ayam’s knuckles, liking the way his hands perfectly fit with his. he wanted to be the only warmth ayam could get, fakhri wanted him to heal.
he wants his dearest friend back.
“cepat lah bangun.”
— day 4
fakhri came to visit again.
this time, he brought yellow asters. he figured that ayam would definitely scold him for wasting his money to get flowers. the latter called them impractical once. when asked why, he’d simply say that they don’t last forever and would turn to nothing but a stick of dried leaves at the end. fakhri figured maybe ayam just wanted plastic flowers instead.
he noticed one of the nurses put a vase on the side of ayam’s bed. it gave fakhri this fuzzy feeling he couldn’t explain, but he thanked the nurse earnestly.
after replacing the flowers, fakhri took a seat next to ayam’s bed and held the latter’s hand again. then, he brought them close to his lips and started trailing small kisses along the way.
if ayam was awake, fakhri would’ve definitely gotten smacked. the corner of fakhri’s lips curved to a small smile as he remembered their old shenanigans together.
if only he could turn back time.
— day 7
fakhri insisted on visiting ayam today, despite his teacher’s protest. he was losing focus in class, and his homework was becoming messier and messier. fakhri started not doing them too. ayam wouldn’t want this but what could fakhri do? he wouldn’t leave fakhri’s mind.
now, he’s at the hospital along with his homework. fakhri puffed his cheeks in annoyance, he begrudgingly started on answering his assessment. he’s a gifted kid, everyone figures he’d never have any problem with school works. hell, he’s the kid who skipped form 3.
however, fakhri is stressed. none of his answers make sense, even his handwriting sucks. he decided to quit writing and threw his books aside.
fakhri hunched his shoulders and went to touch ayam’s face. the latter would hate seeing fakhri in his state right now; he was still rebelling and hard headed. his fingers went to trace ayam’s cheeks. even with the small scars, fakhri’s never seen someone so beautiful.
before he could even think it through, fakhri gave the other a kiss on the cheek.
— day 10
the doctor said ayam is still recovering slowly; which is something good. yet, why is fakhri unhappy with the answer?
he wanted ayam to wake up now. fakhri wanted him back.
it was raining hard that night. the sound of raindrops slapping the roof made fakhri even more restless than he already was. when was the last time fakhri slept soundly? he couldn’t tell.
fakhri rubbed his tired eyes. the cold air from the air conditioner is making him sleepy. with ayam’s presence around, it managed to calm his heart a bit.
a thunder struck the area, making him jolt in shock.
he sighed and rested his head on ayam’s arm. why is everything getting so unbearable now? fakhri couldn’t even be bothered to eat. everything he does annoys him. with every second he breathes, guilt is creeping up on him. it’s eating him up from the inside like maggots swarming a rotten fruit.
fakhri took a sharp intake of breath as he held ayam’s cold hand close to his lips. “ayam,” he trailed off, voice softer than ever. he gave ayam’s knuckles a few kisses before continuing.
“aku rindu kau.”
— day 14
fakhri couldn’t believe this. ayam is sick lying in the hospital, not knowing whether he’ll wake up or not and the high council elections are still going. he felt sick to his stomach.
he listened to what prakash had to say. he didn’t want to fight naim. he wanted to reconcile, it’s what ayam would’ve wanted for the both of them. if he knew how complicated their relationship would be, fakhri should’ve just accepted naim back into his life.
fakhri doesn’t want to fight brother.
he doesn’t want to fight anymore.
and yet, why are his hands bloody? why is his one and only brother lying under him, completely lifeless?
everything went blank.