Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Things have been going great for them these past few months. Plan C was extremely effective and he couldn’t help but sigh in relief when walking over eggshells around his brothers was finally over. He did it.

Cahaya had managed to reconnect again with his brothers. Sure there were bumps along the way and a lot of interference from others (more specifically Adudu and his little gang - his brother probe) but all of those were worth it in the end. All those accusations, all those hurtful words that cut him deeper than any knife could, all those lonely nights he had to bare thinking he’s every move were all worth it, especially when it meant he’d be celebrating their birthday tomorrow, complete, happy and alive. He really couldn’t ask for more.

So why did Cahaya feel like it still wasn’t over. For him. For his brothers.

Like there's still a lingering threat yet to be addressed. But he figures that until tomorrow ends with no accidents, with no deaths, then he wont really be able to rest well. After all, so much can still happen in one day. Who knows what kind of cruel joke the universe will throw his way.

Chapter Text

This wasn't supposed to happen. Everything was going so well. He had finally mended his broken relationship with his brothers, a relationship he himself had destroyed. He had also managed to save up enough money to pay off the planetarium tickets his parents had initially bought for their 15th birthday, with more than enough left over for gifts—thanks to the prize money Angin won for him in that baking contest and the part-time job he had at Mr. Kumar’s diner.

After little to no convincing, he and his brothers, along with their parents and grandfather, would be celebrating their special day at Pulau Rintis with a humble picnic. Their friends and family together, happy and alive. Just a day full of laughter, bonding, and catching up on lost time.

At least that's how it was supposed to go…

Cahaya took a sharp turn into a dark, secluded alleyway, his breath ragged and desperate. He gasped for air, greedily pulling it into his lungs as if he could escape the suffocating panic choking him from the inside. Sweat slicked his skin, mixing with the blood that trickled down from the gash above his brow, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

His legs burned from the relentless sprint, but the conditioning he had kept up—despite quitting karate—was the only thing keeping him upright. If he hadn’t, there was no doubt that he would’ve collapsed somewhere long ago. But even that wasn’t enough. His body was on the edge of collapse, the world around him spinning.

He forced himself to steady his breathing, his chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. Every sound seemed amplified in the heavy silence—his breath, his heartbeat, the distant echo of footsteps that he knew belonged to him. 

He couldn't afford to make a sound. He couldn’t afford to be found. Not after everything he’s gone through. Not after finally getting to know his brothers and receiving the love and attention he craved so much for in his previous life. Something he was so willing to bring others down for just to get a portion of.

His knees buckled slightly, nearly giving out under the weight of his panic. His heart thudded so loud it was deafening, drowning out everything else. He leaned on the bedraggled wall and yanked at his disheveled hair in frustration, eyes darting around in a desperate frenzy. Tears were pricked in the corners of his eyes. His glasses were lost—likely somewhere in the chaos of his flight—but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered but surviving this hell.

He felt a presence behind him like a predator, stalking, hunting, savoring the fear that made his skin crawl. He knew what kind of person was chasing him. They were the kind who enjoyed the hunt, who delighted in the suffering of their prey. It was a game to them—one where the rules were simple: catch him, break him, and end him. Slowly. Painfully.

A chill ran down his spine as a scratching sound echoed from the darkness. The wind howled, biting at his sweaty, exposed skin. The slow, deliberate steps came next, growing louder with every agonizing second. Each echo of those footsteps amplified the growing dread that gripped him tightly. It made him sick to his stomach, knowing how amusing his suffering was to the one chasing him.

It's getting closer.

It's getting louder.

Then, all at once, it stopped.

Cahaya’s breath caught in his throat. His mind screamed at him to move, to run, but his body was frozen. It couldn’t move. The terror infesting his being wouldn’t allow him to.

The silence, heavy and suffocating, filled his ears, and in that moment, he knew: it was waiting for him. 

He had no escape. 

He was trapped.

He did not let hope flicker in his heart. Cahaya knew better than to feel comfort in the ringing silence. For the silence did not mean safety. It meant the opposite. It meant his demise.

Tears blurred his vision as panic took hold. His body shook uncontrollably, each breath a sharp, desperate struggle to stay quiet, to keep from making a sound. He clamped his hand over his mouth, willing himself not to scream, not to give himself away. His eyes darted wildly, scanning the alley for an escape that he knew wouldn’t come. He was out of options.

He was out of time.

He was terrified.

He was alone.

The air seemed to grow thicker around him, heavier, as the seconds dragged on. His eyes widened in horror when a dark shape shifted at the edge of his vision. His pulse spiked. Cahaya paled in realization.

His gaze slowly shifted upward, each inch a painful eternity, prolonging nothing of his inevitable fate, and the terror that had been slowly creeping up his spine exploded into full-blown panic as he stared into the face of his tormentor.

Even with the moonlight casting long shadows, he knew who it was. That grin—that damned grin—was burned into his mind. It haunted his nightmares. It festered his consciousness. And now it was here.

The figure loomed over him, a sickening presence that made his skin crawl. He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t escape.

A voice, gruff and dripping with malice, sliced through the silence.

"Found you."

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“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Cahaya blinked back into focus with Air suddenly beside him, interrupting his musings.

“Wha-”

“You’ve been staring into space for a while.” 

His brother poked his cheek, looking amused and slightly concerned. Had he been spacing out for that long?

An exasperated sigh then came from his left, followed by an arm wrapping around his shoulders, tugging him into a half-hearted embrace.

“Haish, you’re overthinking again, aren’t you? You should let your genius mind rest, you know!”

“I’m not overthinking” he pouted, at which Angin raised an eyebrow, looking amused.

“Sure, buddy”

He rolled his eyes at his brothers chuckling at him. 

Cahaya looked over at the rest of the occupants of their table. He took in the ruckus his other brothers were making and sighed exasperatedly.

At first, Cahaya was alarmed to find himself dragged across the halls by his brother upon hearing the bell ring for lunchtime. 

Tanah, with all his strength and patience in taking care of his other siblings, had a firm grip on his arm as he walked to the direction of the school’s canteen. Though he tried to struggle out of the hold (seriously, how strong is Tanah?!), the glare from Petir, walking alongside them, daring him to even attempt escaping, was enough to shut him up and accept his fate.

Truthfully, he had originally planned to visit the library once the bell rang for their break, to return the books he had borrowed and to hopefully get a few new ones to read. However, knowing his brothers, they must have thought that he was planning to skip lunch and took it upon themselves to haul him over to their table to ensure he did not again neglect himself.

Cahaya shook his head, looked over at the childish squabble between the fourth and fifth brothers of the septuplets, and raised a brow in amusement.

Api held Daun in a chokehold, preventing him from eating the last chocolatey dessert, in which Angin prepared for them to enjoy at lunch.

He chuckled slightly at the two’s struggle to claim the last brownie, moving his gaze to the left.

Tanah, for once, ignored the two troublemakers, probably deciding that whatever topic he and Petir were talking about was more interesting than de-escalating whatever chaos was happening across the table.

However, the twitch on their eyebrow, the strained smile and the gradually darkening aura around said brother forebode the coming calamity if those two doesnt stop their bickering soon.

It was as amusing as it was impressive that Api and Daun were unaware of the threatening aura Tanah progressively exuded and the disaster that meant.

By then, Petir noticed that whatever he and Tanah were talking about had come to an untimely end, so he opted to, just like Cahaya, watch whatever chaos would unfold and debated on whether or not he should interfere. It did not go unnoticed by the youngest, the shy smile ghosting the eldest’s lips and the affectionate gaze he had whilst looking over the others. When those same brown eyes met his, startled at getting caught, Petir abruptly looked away, his ears traitorously reddening as he coughed and turned his head even further, grumbling something about how they should at least try to act normal for once.

Cahaya chuckled, amused at his brother-pointedly not looking back, even as the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying the smile he was trying so hard to suppress.

Taking a glance to his right, he noticed Ais leisurely sipping his chocolate drink, a quiet smile playing on his lips as he watched his hot-headed counterpart now locked in a dramatic tug-of-war with Daun over a piece of fried chicken. There was a glint of amusement in Ais’s eyes—fond, almost entertained—like he was observing a scene he'd seen a hundred times before and still found endearing.

Meanwhile, Angin had yet to let go of his hold on him, opting instead to spoon-feed Cahaya his own lunch—complete with airplane noises and cooing sounds, treating the youngest septuplet more like a toddler than a teenager. He was clearly committed to his promise of spoiling him—perhaps a little too much. 

Reluctantly, Cahaya opened his mouth, accepting both the food and his fate. But looking at his brother's face light up at his compliance, Cahaya couldn't help but think that indulging Angin’s mischief was worth it every once in a while.

Ah. It seemed Daun won the impromptu food war and is now blissfully eating.

Cahaya continued chewing, having successfully snatched the spoon from his brother and declared that he could feed himself. He let out a huff at Angin’s unrestrained laughter, flustered by the attention and overt affection, he shyly turned away, trying to hide his embarrassment. 

Had you told him back then that he’d one day be sitting with his brothers—laughing, teasing, sharing stories over lunch—he would’ve stared you down, scoffed, and turned away. Not before snapping, “My brothers hate me just as much as I do. You’d do better studying than wasting time on delusions and lies.” He would have walked off then with a defeated fury, his fists clenched, because how dare anyone light a traitorous flame of hope in his heart that maybe—just maybe—his brothers could understand him, that they’d finally include him. Maybe he wouldn’t have to feel so alone anymore. 

Cahaya shook his head, trying to rid himself of those depressing thoughts. He’d rather focus on the present than drown in melancholy over past moments. His brothers were with him, happy and chaotic, just as they should be—without the weight of the problems he had caused. And that was all that mattered. After all, this was everything he had ever wanted. He would do anything to keep it that way.

The school bell rang, signaling the end of classes for the day. Students rushed through the halls, their voices a mix of loud chatter, while footsteps echoed off the lockers.

Most have already gone home but the siblings were still waiting by the gates, having bid farewell to their friends. They spoke eagerly about the very first birthday they would celebrate together after two years. Five of the septuplets stood there, each engaged in their own conversation: Tanah and Petir discussed certain preparations for tomorrow; Air chimed in about a gift for the youngest; Angin and Api by the side enthusiastically suggested foods for the picnic, Angin offering to bake the cake.

No sooner had Daun arrived alone, with no sign of the youngest.

Air raised an eyebrow and asked, “Where’s Cahaya?”

The others turned to Daun, the same question written across their faces.

“Well…” Daun began, “Cahaya told me to go ahead since Teacher Papa suddenly volunteered his help with ‘Justice’s Finals of Wisdom’—whatever that is—but he did say he’d keep us updated on his phone as soon as he’s done! I did tell him we could wait for him, but he insisted we go ahead since he didn’t want us waiting too long. Something about not wanting to be a burden.”

Tanah sighed at Daun’s explanation. He worries that Cahaya is pushing himself too hard again, too kind to refuse their enigmatic teacher and too stubborn to let them help.

Petir placed a hand on his shoulder, reassuring him, pulling him away from his worries for the youngest. “I’m sure the brat can handle himself, he has his phone with him, He’d tell us if anything comes up. You worry too much, Tanah.”

Despite the mended bonds between the siblings, some things would never change. Although those names, now, are spoken more out of fondness and exasperation rather than to spite and antagonize.

“He can keep himself out of trouble for a while. He more than capable of defending himself as well”

“Well, if he’s not the one causing the trouble, that is” Api commented after Air, earning him an elbow to the stomach.

“OW- WHat?!”

“Like you're one to talk” Air rolled his eyes, turning away from the heated glare thrown his way by Api.

“Think of it this way: If we hurry home and get started on the preparations for tomorrow, we might be able to finish early, and the nerd won’t have to lift a finger.”

Daun hugged Tanah from the side. “Petir’s right! You know how much of a workaholic Cahaya is. Even if he arrives all exhausted and on the verge of collapse, he’d still be busy helping out around the house.” Huffing, he let go of the hug and tugged playfully on Tanah’s arm.

“Fine,” Tanah said defeatedly, letting his brothers drag him home, still reluctant to leave with one of them left behind. It somehow left a bitter taste in his mouth, a mirror to a past no one wants to repeat. It didn’t help that an uneasy feeling had settled deep inside him.

A nagging feeling clawed at him, relentless and unsettling. It told him to stay—to not leave their youngest alone. That something was wrong, that something would happen. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t explain why. There was no solid reason to argue against the valid points his brothers had made.

Maybe he was just paranoid. Maybe he was being too protective, worrying over nothing.

But the feeling wouldn’t go away. Tanah shook his head, trying to shake off the unease that had settled in his chest. He prayed that it was all in his head—that there was nothing to worry about. Still, as he followed his brothers home, his eyes couldn’t help but drift back toward the school building, anxiety twisting like a knot in his gut.

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Cahaya winced, gritting his teeth, his back shoved—violently—into the cold, grimy wall. The impact slammed the breath from his lungs with a guttural oof, and pain flared sharply through his spine and shoulders.

For a second, everything blurred—his ears rang, heart thudding in his chest like a war drum.

Desperately trying to regain bearings, a flash of silver caught his eye. His face morphed into sickening realization. 

A blade.

One that glinted coldly under the threadbare veil of moonlight, held tightly in the hand of the figure before him.

Horror settling in his gut like ice. He looked up.

The person grinned, wide and wrong, eyes glittering with something far from human. The sight twisted his stomach. 

Whatever expression Cahaya made in that moment must’ve been a delight to his attacker, because it pulled a ragged, broken laughter from them.

He was petrified, shaking almost like a leaf on a branch against harsh unforgiving winds.

Cahaya was disoriented, weary and terrified. Moments ago he was on his way home from helping Teacher Papa with some test sheets, and now he found himself pinned against the wall— beaten and bruised.

He momentarily looked back to when all this had started in his fear-hazed mind.

Back then, he had finished later than intended due to his peculiar teacher’s exhausting shenanigans that had taken to arrange the questions longer than expected.

As he walked home, he had pulled out his phone to update his brothers of his late departure, lest they panic from not hearing from him after he’d been buried in work. But as soon as he turned a corner, something—or someone—slashed at him, nicking him just above the brow. He had reacted purely on instinct, jumping back and pressing a finger to the hopefully shallow gash.

He stared at his bloody finger, flinching. Then, he looked back up, trepidation creeping in, about to call out to his attacker. They were probably just someone who hated him— nothing new. He could fend them off all by himself anyways.

Just as he was about to defend or retaliate, his entire body was suddenly doused in numbing cold water. The perpetrator showed himself with confidence, a mad, malicious grin spreading across their face.

His body shook and his form crumbled. He felt himself teetering on the brink of a panic attack, gasping and flailing like a fish out of water.

Retakka, in all his ragged and bloodthirsty glory, stood there, confident and smug. 

Here to finish what he wasn’t able to end in his previous life.

“You seem so afraid. Is that how you greet your dear senior?” Retakka laughed, gruff and forced, throwing his head back.

“Especially one you oh so graciously stole from.”

Retakka’s face slowly fell and stared straight at Cahaya. His expression contorted into an unnerving determination as their eyes locked. He gripped the knife in his hand, still dripping with blood from his earlier strike.

The wind stilled in anticipation. The sun was setting, casting an eerie orange glow that faded to crimson on the horizon—an omen of the outcome between the manipulator and the manipulated, the hunter and the hunted.

Cahaya’s eyes flickered briefly to his discarded phone on the ground. He’d dropped it in his haste to dodge, and now he doubted he’d be able to retrieve it without risking his life. It was too close to Retakka.

“Let me thank you.”

The words were sharp, cold.

His eyes snapped back to the movement in his peripheral vision. He ducked, narrowly avoiding a potentially fatal swing, and twisted his body to kick at Retakka's legs, trying to unbalance him.

Retakka jumped back, clearly anticipating the move. He rushed at the disoriented, panic-stricken Cahaya, who attempted to run for his phone but was kicked to the ground from behind, pinning him there.

“You’re not the same arrogant, fearless prodigious brat I fought before, are you?” Retakka leaned down, his voice dripping with spite as he whispered in Cahaya’s ear.

“You’ve changed, you’ve grown weak.” 

Cahaya gritted his teeth at the mockery. A part of him wanted to prove Retakka wrong but the fear still buzzing in his mind, was urging him to flee, to escape. A million thoughts raced past, and briefly, he remembered his brothers.

They’re waiting for him. He couldn’t break their trust now. He had to come back to them.

Cahaya drew a sharp breath and bashed his head back into Retakka’s, using the distraction to make a break for it.

He scrambled to his feet, but a hand grabbed at his leg. Cahaya kicked the hand away, looking back, only to meet Retakka’s enraged, bleeding face.

He knows he only sealed his fate even more so now that he retaliated, but he won’t make it easy for this wretched person.

So he ran. As fast as his legs could carry him.

He fought at every close encounter. He dodged and countered at every strike he received. 

Cahaya earned himself bruises and scrapes but time and time again, Retakka caught up to him. Just like he did now. Backing him up to a corner, a deathly grip to his collar, his back against the wall.

He curses himself.

He wasn’t fast enough. He wasn’t strong enough.

And now, he was going to die—-the same cruel way he did the last time. 

The same alley.

The same vengeful person.

The same damned fate.

Cahaya had no one to blame but himself. He was the one who’d let this happen—chasing validation in desperation, grasping at attention he never earned. Was it worth it?

He wishes he could erase every little shitty thing he did in the past. For the past never lets go. It bites back relentlessly, never giving a moment’s peace. Just as it did then, as it would now.

Truly, the universe had a cruel sense of humor. It knew exactly what he deserved—and it sure as hell wasn’t happiness. Because no, this wasn’t some cosmic reward for his efforts. This—this was punishment.

It wasn’t fate’s way of letting him savor the fruit of his labor, not when the timing couldn’t be more fitting—-the night before their birthday of all days.

No. It was a reminder. A reminder that everything he desired was just out of reach. Like a man freed from his cage, only to taste freedom for a moment before being dragged back into the same chains.

The blade in Retakka’s hand gleamed coldly, and before Cahaya could even process the thought, it was driven into his stomach.

Pain shot through him—sharp, immediate, and unexpected. His eyes went wide as a strangled scream tore from his throat, but it was swallowed by the breathless panic clawing at his chest.

His hands instinctively clutched the knife, desperate to stop it from sinking deeper, but the cold steel twisted cruelly as Retakka grinned in sadistic pleasure.

It was a twisted contest of tug-of-war now—Cahaya’s weakened resolve against the fury of someone who’d already lost everything.

“Is this how you get your kicks?” Retakka sneered, twisting the blade further, making Cahaya wince.

"After the loss, I spent days hating you," Retakka spat, his voice raw with rage. "You destroyed me—my reputation, my honor—all of it, shattered in an instant. You, a brat who spent less than a month training, dared to challenge me. You blasted everything I’d worked for into dust. You knew I’d win—you knew that move was a trick. So, what did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

His words were a shriek of hatred, the rage behind them painted on his face.

Cahaya's breath came in ragged gasps, but with whatever strength remained, he bared his teeth and shot back, his voice hoarse but defiant, “You ruined your own life! You clung to the past—you made this your future. No one else is to blame for your destruction. Only you.”

The truth stung—but it wasn’t all true. Cahaya knew his own hands were stained with the path Retakka had chosen. But the irony still burned—Retakka had been the one to hold onto his rage like a lifeline, refusing to let go of the past, refusing to see the future he could have made for himself. Like Cahaya had once done when his family abandoned him. 

When they died on him.

Pain surged through Cahaya’s body, the blade still buried deep. He screamed, twisting against the cold wall, his body wracked with agony. Sweat and tears mixed, falling like rain onto the filthy asphalt beneath him.

His strength was draining, his body giving up as the fight became more futile with every second. The knife had dug so deep now, more than half of it inside him, and the battle was slipping from his grasp.

They both struggled to gain the upper hand, not one to back done. Retakka, despite his rage, was already showing signs of fatigue from earlier but continued to drive the knife deeper against the waning resistance.

But Cahaya knew, as bitter as it was for him especially in his circumstances, when to accept defeat.

He was losing. 

And so Cahaya drowned in despair. The moment seemed to slow down, as if time gave him what little mercy to look back on his life despite his dire situation.

He faces the warped glee in Retakka’s face yet he no longer feels the bone deep fear he felt rather it was replaced with exhausted acceptance.

Cahaya’s thoughts strayed to his brothers.

He wants to feel more of Tanah’s gentle affection and kind warmth. To spend time bonding over chores at home.

He wants to bathe in the comforting presence Air provides him. To sleep and relax beside his brother knowing no one would disturb him not with his brother's cold but caring composure.

He wants to bake more sweets and hang out with Angin. To eat the desserts filled with overflowing tenderness and joy made especially for him that erase his weariness and worries.

He wants to spend time with Petir, taking care of Cattus and playing with the prickly yet affectionate cat. To share in the rare, unspoken moments of understanding, where their bond speaks louder than words, and the quiet care they show to each other is enough.

He wants to join and laugh at the mischief Api always enjoys pulling on their other brothers. To bond over the other’s unfinished homeworks, fussing at his brother’s lack of attentiveness but patient enough to help unconditionally.

He wants to plant all sorts of plants: flowers, fruits, vegetables in Tok Aba’s backyard with Daun. To indulge his brother’s love for flora, happily exchanging stories and laughter as they work together, their hands stained with soil feeling both at peace.

Cahaya mourned for what could be.

Time flowed back to the present, where his grip for hope weakened along with his state.

He only asks that his brothers don't hate him.

Cahaya shuts his eyes tight from the pain that consumed his mind and controlled his body.

“Who’s there?!”

A shout echoed from somewhere nearby—footsteps followed, loud and hurried.

They were approaching the alley fast.

“I heard shouting. Show yourselves!”

Retakka cursed under his breath, muttering about unwelcome interference. He cast a sharp glare toward his wounded victim, frustration tightening his grip on the knife.

So close.

He had been so close to finally erasing the irritating speck from his life. But getting caught now wasn’t part of the plan. Not yet. Not when he had so much more in store for the little light’s family.

His jaw clenched, the taste of dissatisfaction bitter on his tongue. He wanted to finish it—wanted to see the life leave the boy’s eyes, especially now that a perfect opportunity laid itself before him.

But the beam of a flashlight crept closer, and with a sharp click of his tongue, he turned away, casting one last withering look at the crumpled figure bleeding out beneath him.

The brat wouldn’t make it home. Not with a stab wound like that. Not with blood soaking through his uniform in thick, dark splotches.

Retakka melted into the shadows, leaving behind a bloody unfinished masterpiece

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To be continued!

Chapter Text

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The uneven rhythm of crimson droplets splattered softly against the forgotten pavement, swallowed by the night’s silence.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Each faltering step echoed with hollow resolve. A figure limped under the suffocating reach of the night, the moon recoiling behind ashen clouds—as if even the sky could not bear witness to a wretched child pitifully clawing their way toward comfort.

Their body, a canvas of red and blues, was tethered to motion only by one obdurate thought, in spite of their very being.

Home.

Golden warmth. Clashing laughter. Teasing words laced with love. The smell of comfort and rest. The welcome of family—all open arms and forgiving hearts.

Were they waiting?

Would they worry?

Left. Right. Left. Right.

More footsteps, each heavier than the last. The ground threatened to rise up and claim them, but they clung, desperate, to whatever would hold. One hand stained with the bloom of their undoing pressed as deep as they could. The other trembling—poised to catch them during each untimely fall beneath the weight of exhaustion and hope.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He’s tired. 

But they're so close now.

He wants to rest.

Just a few more steps.

Let him get home

He wants to go home.

A few more steps and maybe—finally—the world might make sense again.

Chapter Text

Cahaya stumbled, feet unsteady on the sidewalk. His hands were bloody, and the once clean school sweater now bathed in crimson blooms.

Whatever energy or adrenaline he had left from fighting Retakka was gradually waning. Soon, his body would shut down, ready to surrender to the haunting comfort of death and its ever-waiting arms.

Yet, in spite of everything, he walked forward. He moved. 

One foot in front of the other. Fingers gripping walls, fences—anything to stay upright.

Even when he tripped, winced in pain, coughed up blood and breathed shallowly—as if each breath might be his last—he kept walking.

Walking with only one thought in his mind. Home

Sweat trickled down his head, mixing with the dried blood and soot clinging to his face.

He could barely imagine what he must look like.

Cahaya found his mind drifting—more times than he could count—to his brothers. 

What would they think of him, bruised and battered as he was, when— if—- he gets home?

And wasn’t that a terrifying thought?

That getting home had become a privilege. A luxury he’d be lucky enough to achieve.

He despaired over the fight he’d given for months, all of it spiraling down the drain thanks to some twisted joke the universe decided to play.

He had bent over backwards for his redemption, driven himself into the ground, and sacrificed everything to save his brothers from their supposed fate—all that stubbornness, only for him to meet his early. 

And isn’t that just funny? Hilarious, even.

Truthfully, he hadn't expected that man to find him here. He’d been too busy executing his plans, wallowing in self-deprecation, and shoving down panic attacks to even consider the possibility.

But he should have. He, more than anyone, knew Retakka was a flame that flickered with animosity and unpredictable rage.

He should have known that the moment he caught a glimpse of that man in Pulau Rintis, this outcome would happen. That this kind of confrontation was inevitable.

Even if it was just his imagination at the time—his stress-addled mind playing tricks—he should have known better.

He was a fool for forgetting Retakka’s existence in this timeline. 

In truth, Cahaya hadn’t—or couldn't —entertain the possibility that the time between Retakka’s loss and his own arrival, even with his past death, might mean that that man was already here. Already living in Pulau Rintis. So close to his brothers— who looked exactly like him.

His vision blurred and his legs gave out twice with the realization. 

He could've hurt them. 

At any point in the past—even now—Retakka had the means to harm his family as a form of revenge.

But why hadn’t he?

Cahaya bitterly recalled the cruel coincidence that their last encounter had taken place in the same dark, acrid alley near the cheap place he used to rent.

The same one he had died in.

The only difference now was that he was still standing—stubbornly stumbling his way back to that old, blue-painted house that radiated warmth and comfort. The place where his family was. Likely waiting for him.

He wondered how they’d react to seeing him like this. 

Would they get mad?

Would they shout, berate him, push him away for being reckless? For breaking his promise to get home early? Let him pass away with his mistakes?

Or would they cry?

Would they hold his bleeding body close, whispering sweet nothings to distract him, hiding their grief in favor of offering him a peaceful goodbye?

Briefly, he remembered the voice that halted his end. He’d caught a fleeting glimpse of strikingly familiar, spiky, dark-purple hair.

But before he could get a better look at the officer approaching, he’d already used the last of his strength to escape.

You couldn’t really blame him for that hasty—and admittedly stupid—decision.

Had he stayed, the officer would have checked on him, brought him to a hospital. But there was no guarantee that once he closed his eyes there, he’d ever wake up. Or get the chance to say goodbye to his brothers. 

Now, in his fogged and pain-riddled mind, he realized that might not have been such a bad outcome after all. He would have stood a better chance at surviving there than from whatever he was recklessly doing now.

Don’t get him wrong—he was thankful for that vaguely familiar officer, for saving him and buying him extra time. But Cahaya feared it was too late to regret how he’d used it. Not after walking what felt like miles.

If he turned back now to look for that officer—who was likely no longer where he last saw him—he doubted he’d survive the trip. His worn body couldn’t give any more.

Besides, he could already see the pavement of home. 

Light poured through the open windows of the house, flickering shadows moving inside.

Cahaya’s body sagged with relief and exhaustion. His bones ached. Muscles throbbed in anticipation. A small, tired smile spread across his face.

And so, he doubled his efforts. Pouring whatever energy he had left into reaching the door, if only slightly faster.

Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. Relief washed over him in overwhelming waves. He feared he’d drop dead then and there.

One agonizing step at a time, he made it to the front door and lifted a shaky hand.

Cahaya tried to knock. One hand hovered near the wooden door, the other still pressed against his abdomen—soaked with the blood pouring from his wound.

His laboured breaths and unsteady figure made even knocking difficult. But before he could, the door abruptly opened.

And his instincts screamed at him.

Before the doorway could fully bathe his battered form in warm yellow hues, he dove in.

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Petir was nothing short of distraught. The sun had already set and dinner was beginning to go cold, yet their youngest still hadn’t returned.

At any moment then, he would have stormed out of the house to look for the brat. But instead, he sat patiently on the couch, one leg bouncing in agitation.

Petir’s eyes alternated between the clock hanging on the wall and his phone, waiting for any kind of update from Cahaya.

After all, they hadn’t received one since all six of them had left school.

His gave then shifted to his other brothers, each displaying varying levels of worry.

Petir noticed how, for the past hour, Tanah had been pacing around the living room in silent distress. He feared that soon his brother would wear a hole through the floor from all his back and forth.

It bothered him how the usually calm and collected side of his brother almost always disappeared when it came to their youngest. Tanah would often hover and fret over the smallest things—a mild cough, a slight headache, a few stumbles. But with how often Cahaya got sick, the concern was justified. However, this time it felt more intense. Like a pressure pressing them down, a tile misplaced and wrong—and that did little to ease the others.

Beside him, Angin—his usual goofy grin replaced by an uncharacteristically serious look—had been, for a while now, spamming their youngest’s private messages.

Petir noticed how his fingers hovered anxiously over the keyboard, typing and deleting words he couldn’t settle on. There was a desperation in him for a reply—any kind of response at all. A simple “I’m fine” or even a single emoji would’ve been enough. Something—anything—just to prove he was okay. 

Meanwhile, Api leaned against the window, insisting on staying there in hopes of being the first to spot their brother’s arrival.

They all knew how easily their hot-headed brother caved under stress, and being the first to see the nerd safe and well was the only thing that might ease his anxiety—so no one commented on it.

On the other end of the couch, Ais seemingly looked unbothered by the situation, but he not once had he dozed off. 

Ais curled around his whale plush, no doubt too uneasy to rest until their brother got home safe and sound. A sentiment they all shared.

And poor Daun had been opening and closing the door over and over again, expecting to see their brother standing there. 

He kept doing it in hopes of surprising him with a warm greeting from all of them—to reassure Cahaya that there was someone always waiting to welcome him at home. That he was cared for, that he wasn’t alone anymore. Not after everything they had gone through—everything he had gone through.

Eventually, after the umpteenth time, their grandfather scolded him in fear of wearing down the old hinges of the house’s door. Daun, feeling guilty, dejectedly retreated to his garden out back, hoping the fresh air might calm his nerves.

Tok Aba understood how anxious his grandsons were with how often the youngest of the septuplets got themselves in trouble from the past months. However, he does not deny his own worry. 

Cahaya is many things. A prodigy, a workaholic and debatably a troublemaker in his own way, but never ignorant of his family.

His grandchild would have found a way to contact them and would not be arriving this late in the night.

So besides understanding the anxious feelings of his six other grandchildren, he too, worries and prays for Cahaya to return soon.

And that soon, they can all eat a warm and filling meal and head to bed. Sleeping off all of what seemed as unnecessary distress and prepare early for tomorrow's celebration.

However, Tok Aka could not shake off the creeping dread. Call it a parent's—or in this case grandparent's—instinct but something feels horribly wrong.

The elderly sat in the kitchen contemplating until a sudden ruckus from the living room broke him out of his concerned thoughts. He sighed in defeat knowing exactly what it was or who it was.

Petir abruptly stood up, startling his tense brothers, his face shadowed beneath the bill of his cap.

Tanah momentarily stopped pacing, raising an eyebrow at the eldest’s sudden action, while Angin yelped and dropped the phone he had been typing on. Ais and Api, equally shocked and confused, looked up as well.

“What’s wrong, Petir?” Angin asked.

“I can’t handle all this waiting anymore! That brat could be out there in trouble, again, and we’re just sitting here, doing nothing but moping around!”

With a tired sigh, Tanah spoke. “We are not moping around—”

“Then what are we doing, Tanah?!” Petir spat, his voice tight with frustration. “He’s been gone for hours, and none of us even know where he went!”

Tanah’s expression tensed. “We do know where—he said he was going to help Teacher Papa with some test sheets after school. He probably just got caught up again—”

“It doesn’t take this long to send a single text,” Angin cut in, finally voicing what everyone had been thinking. His voice was strained, lips pressed into a tight line as he retrieved his phone from the floor.

“I already checked the school, the diner he works part-time at, even that one bookstore he likes. He’s not there. He’s nowhere.” His eyes darted between them, wide with barely contained fear. “What if something happened?”

“Don’t say that.” Daun’s voice was soft but firm as he returned from the garden, hands muddy and sleeves damp from kneeling in the dirt. “Cahaya’s strong… He wouldn’t let anything happen to himself.”

“But it’s Cahaya,” Api muttered, arms crossed over his chest as he stared hard at the window. “You know how he is. He bottles everything up, never tells us when something’s wrong until it’s too late.”

There was a bitter pause.

Ais, who had been silent until then, finally sat up and hugged his whale plush tighter. His voice was smooth but unusually sharp. “We all agreed not to leave him alone. Not after what happened. And now he’s gone again.”

The air turned heavy.

Tanah took a deep breath, eyes narrowing in thought. “Alright. We’ll split up. Api and I will take the western part of town—his favorite shortcuts are over there. Petir, go with Angin and check the path near the park. Ais and Daun, check around the residential blocks—quiet places he might wander to if he needed space.”

Tok Aba entered from the kitchen just then, looking weary but composed. “Boys—”

“We’ll be back soon, Tok,” Tanah interrupted gently but firmly. “We just… we can’t sit still anymore.”

The old man looked at each of them, then slowly nodded. “Take your phones. Stay in contact. And if you find him… bring him home.”

“Of course,” Petir muttered, already grabbing his jacket. “We’re not leaving him alone anymore.”

Tok Aba smiled approvingly as he watched all of them prepare to venture out into the night, each one moving with silent determination.

None of them noticed the hunched figure limping into their yard.

Petir slowly opened the door, glancing back to make sure his brothers were just behind him before they stepped out.

But before he could even face forward and step out into the dark night, something heavy crashed into him, sending him sprawling to the floor.

He rubbed his aching back—thankfully, he hadn’t fallen on his head, but on his butt instead—then looked toward the thing that had hit him and was met with a tuft of messy brown hair with a streak of white.

He recognized it immediately.

Anger blurred his logic, and he didn’t pause to take a good look at the younger before shouting at him.

However, before he could even begin to give the brat the scolding of a lifetime, gasps echoed through the room—and a comment thrown into the air made him freeze.

In a breathless tone, almost like a whisper in the wind amidst the brewing chaos, a single sentence made the whole room hold its breath—a tension rose and chilled the once warm hall.

“Is that blood?”

Petir couldn’t tell which one of his brothers said that. He couldn’t even be bothered to know, as he felt something wet soak through his shirt—and the arm caught between him and his brother.

He had a haunting suspicion on what it was but he desperately hoped he was wrong. Yet the strong metallic scent proved difficult to ignore as dread now invaded his whole being.

He pulled his arm out.

His breath hitched.

Red.

It coated his sleeve. Wet, warm, and terrifyingly real. dripping between his fingers and staining the fabric like an omen.

His eyes dropped to the boy still slumped against him. Cahaya’s weight was unnatural—too limp, too heavy for someone who was supposed to be fine. His little brother’s fingers were curled loosely in his jacket, like he had been holding on. Like he’d barely made it.

“Cahaya?” Petir’s voice cracked, raw with disbelief. He grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to ease him off without hurting him—but the second he moved, a low groan slipped past the younger’s lips.

That was when the others rushed forward. Snapped out of the shock they were in, as if doused in freezing cold water.

“Move—move!” Tanah’s voice rang sharp, taking Cahaya from Petir’s arms with more care than urgency. But the moment he caught a proper look at his brother, his entire body locked up.

There were bruises. Faint ones under the skin of his arms, his temple. A gash across his side soaked through his shirt entirely, and the blood—it just kept coming.

Petir took a step back, the breath in his lungs suddenly too much and not enough.

He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

The others weren’t much better.

“W-we need a towel—no, bandages!” Angin stammered, darting toward the kitchen, his body trembling so badly he nearly slipped on the tiled floor.

Api cursed under his breath and bolted up the stairs. “I’ll get the first aid kit!”

Daun, pale and silent, hovered uselessly before dropping to his knees beside Tanah, tears welling fast. “He—he’s cold—he’s not supposed to be cold—!”

Ais hadn’t moved.

His plush was still clutched tightly in his arms as he stood frozen near the couch, wide eyes locked on Cahaya’s pale face. For once, the usually-calm brother looked like a child—small, helpless, and completely out of his depth.

“Tanah…” Petir’s voice finally broke through the haze, barely above a whisper. “W-what do we do?”

Tanah didn’t respond right away. 

How could he, when he was just as lost as they were. Eyes blown and frantic with hands shaking and barely able to hold onto anything firmly.

He was pressing his jacket over the wound now, voice low and coaxing. “It’s alright. You’re safe now. You’re home, Cahaya… stay with me, okay? Just—stay awake.”

But Cahaya didn’t respond.

His lips were parted, breathing shallow and uneven. His eyes, barely open, fluttered weakly at the sound of his name.

And for a moment—just one breathless, gut-wrenching moment—Petir thought he saw him smile.

Then his eyes slipped closed.

“No. No—no, no, no—don’t you dare—!” Tanah’s voice cracked into panic as he shook him lightly, cradling him against his chest. Tears blurred the edges of his vision as he further drowned in despair and fear of losing their youngest brother.

Angin returned, nearly slipping again as he fell to his knees with a stack of towels and shouted, “Ambulance—call the ambulance!”

“I already am!” Api’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs. “They said ten minutes!”

Ten minutes.

Ten minutes.

Ten minutes was too long.

Too long for a body that was barely holding on. 

Too long for a heart that had already broken once.

Petir looked at his blood-stained hands and felt something in him shatter.

This was his fault.

He let the kid go.

He didn’t chase him down earlier. Didn’t push harder when the texts went silent.

Didn’t realize sooner that “he’s probably fine” was a lie they’d told themselves too many times.

Too many times.

And now Cahaya was here—barely breathing in Tanah’s arms, stained in red and barely warm.

Outside, the night was silent.

Inside, seven hearts waited, trembling at the edge of something they’d hoped never to see again.

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It felt warm…

Did he make it home?...

He couldn’t remember how long he had been walking, nor how far he’d trekked. All he had was the pain that grounded him and the fear of dropping somewhere, curled up and discarded, where no one could find him. Where he would slowly die alone. Again.

And so the sound of creaking and warmth lured him in like a moth to a flame, and he dove in without a second thought. Not that there was any left—with how the excruciating pain had already consumed his mind.

Everything hurt.

It hurt.

His head was pounding like a drum, each throb louder than the last. His chest burned, lungs tight and heavy with every breath he tried to take. There was blood in his mouth—he could taste it, feel it on his tongue like rust and regret. 

But there was warmth.

Warmth in the body he lay atop.

Warmth in the arms that held him with so much hesitation, yet cradled him so gently he almost fell asleep. 

He lifted his gaze to the person he crashed into. The one he held onto loosely with what strength he had left.

Petir.

His chest ached—not from the pain, but from the relief. The way his brother looked at him: startled, angry, but there.

He was there.

Cahaya tried to speak, tried to tell him, “I made it,” but the words died in his throat.

He was home.

He was home.

And that was enough.

Pain surged through his body once again as he felt the pressure shift against his gaping wound.

The warmth around him—the arms, the shouting, the rush of it all—was starting to sound like static. Like waves lapping at the edges of a dream. Each blink he took lasted longer than the last, and he feared his eyes would permanently stay shut.

But a voice—closer, steadier—echoed in his mind.

“You’re safe now. You’re home, Cahaya… stay with me, okay? Just—stay awake.”

Tanah.

He wanted to answer.

He wanted to tell them he was sorry. That he didn’t mean to make them worry. That he really tried to be strong. That he fought so hard for them. That this wasn’t part of his plan to redeem himself—nor the end he wished for all of them.

But his lips were numb.

His breath, shallow.

Still, for just a second, he thought… maybe it’s okay now. 

Maybe they’ll stay till his time ends. Hold him before death comes to drag him away.

Maybe they’ll forgive him. For everything till now.

Maybe… they’ll forget him and move on. They’ve done that before, haven’t they?

He thought it was a bit too cruel of a conclusion, but their lives would be better without him, right? 

His wish already came true, anyway.

He smiled.

Or at least, he thought he did.

Then the dark closed in.

And everything went still.

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To Be Continued.