Why Different?

Anger

“Greetings to Abi equals Umi.” Juan lets Zahira out of the car with his own efforts. No he helped open the door, nor did he come down because honestly his feelings still did not improve. Utilizing quiet time for the rest of the trip was not powerful enough to relieve his emotions. There were still remains that made his chest feel full.

“Iya.” Zahira answered briefly. Maybe he understood that Juan was not good enough, but was too confused to ask what really happened. Juan himself did not know where to start. Asking about the man who was with Zahira in the hospital without a caretaker will sound like he was trying to hit the drums of war, and Juan doesn't want that to happen.

Zahira's body moved away from the view. Slowly, like a puff of smoke slowly leaving where it came from. Then as the gates of his house made the body completely disappear, Juan again exhaled a rough breath. His emotional control has been bad lately, and Juan hates it. Juan hated it, but had no way to stop himself.

“Damn it!” the innocent rudder becomes the target of Juan's anger. Repeatedly hit, hit, gripped until some parts scratched fingernails which is not how long. If it didn't belong to Moana, this car would've been wrecked in Juan's hands.

The emotions continued. Now, even Juan's own body has become the target of anger that has somehow been muted. Some strands of his hair fell out due to being grabbed as hard as possible. His wrinkled face, he rubs rough to the point of feeling sore in some parts because his nails may accidentally make scratches.

If continued, Juan could spend the whole night torturing himself. Of course, that can't happen. So with the rest of the eternal shadow over his head, Juan drove back the car.

The gas pedal he stepped as deep as possible, it no longer occurred to him what risks he might bear later. Accidents, grazing people, whatever it is. Juan doesn't care. He just wanted to quickly get home, submerge himself in a bathtub filled with cold water. If possible, he wanted to stay there all night, so that the smoke that billowed in the head immediately got out of the way and he could think more clearly.

...ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ...

“Lo from where, anyway?! The permission is only a moment to bring Moana home, but until the hour you go home office is not back! And this, this is hape lo why is everything left in the office? If I hadn't been to your workspace to check, I wouldn't have known you hadn't been back!”

Believe me, receiving that much chatter when his head is still in a storm is not something fun. Let alone to answer, just listening until it was finished, it felt Juan could not. Heat. Her ears felt like they had just been wiped.

“Have a mouth?! Can you answer if asked?!” Juan still ignored Reno who tailed behind. Even when Reno's little hand pulled the back shirt he was wearing and made them barely fall down the stairs, Juan still didn't care.

“Ju!”

Upset, Juan turned around quickly after his foot stepped on the second floor. Reno was still standing on the second rung, making her posture increasingly small in Juan's eyes.

“Jawab. Where are you from?”

“Home Moana.” Juan answered briefly. His mood was not that good to explain at length. And again, not sure also Reno will understand enough if he tells in detail what happened to make him become upset like this.

“Lo waiting for Moana at her house? A day? Seriously? Loin' waras? What if Zahira finds out, huh?! You guys just got better, Ju! Couldn't you, anyway, don't yawn because?!”

Always Zahira. In anyone's eyes, Zahira is always the first. It's always Zahira who's on the victim's side, he's always the innocent. While Juan, always be the party of the bastard. Even if he explained everything, the mistake would always be on him. Well, what can he do if since the beginning ‘bajingan’ has indeed become his middle name. Convinced. Even if one day he decides to emigrate, people will only assume he is being imaged.

“Ju!”

“Gue again say the same, Ju! Heh! Dog!”

Bam!!!

Juan slammed the room door so that Reno's chatty mouth immediately silenced. His chatty voice was no longer heard, Juan was grateful his cousin also did not try to break down the door he had locked. Because if that happens, they might actually be involved in a fistfight that no one in this house will be able to break up.

As planned on his way home, Juan rushed into the bathroom. While undressing, he turns on the tap to fill the bathtub with cold water. To hell with the risk of catching a cold. Juan really just wanted to calm his cloudy mind instead of playing.

After the bathub was full, Juan's tap turned off and he hurriedly entered it. The cold spread quickly, leaving the cells in his body shocked for a while before he could finally get used to it and he could drown his body parts more.

At first, he just soaked until leaving his head alone. But because he realized the main problem was in his head, Juan did not hesitate to bring his body deeper and deeper. Continues. Continues. Continues. Until his head drowned. He's not good at holding his breath, but for tonight alone, he'll try harder.

“If you are angry again, I usually keep quiet first, keep counting down from ten to one. If it has not succeeded, I will change my position so sit down, continue to repeat the countdown. If it has not succeeded as well, I will fall down, continue the countdown also remain valid. If the three are still not effective as well, I will go to the bathroom, take ablution continue to read prayers a lot. You can try the first, second and third points. But since the latter cannot, and I don't know how you usually pray, yes you do it according to what you believe.” Zahira said one morning when Juan asked how Zahira was holding back from emotions.

Tonight, Juan has done everything. He even chanted a prayer even though he was only in his heart, but his emotions did not go away.

Was this because he was too afraid of losing Zahira? Or is it basically he who is emotional and difficult to control himself?

Byur!!!

A great deal of water was spilled in Juan's attempt to get himself out of the bathtub.

“H—hah!” Juan gasped, like a fish stranded on the edge of the ocean. Even so, his heart was still not relieved.

“Gue what to do, Lord?” like the most miserable man in the world.

Seriate