Why Different?

Sit Here, We Talk

In the taxi carrying their half-drenched bodies through the torrent of rain, Zahira and Juan still did not start any conversation. Silent music played through the radio like giving another affirmation that the lovers he was with were being overwhelmed, he said, there was a storm of grief and none of them knew when things would improve.

Zahira turned his head slightly towards Juan after earlier throwing a glance out the window, where the tampias water points on the window glass bear witness to how much he actually still cried so hard in the heart. Through the tail of his eyes, Zahira found his lover so deep, the two hands of the man clinging to each other on his lap and dimly he could hear a sigh of rage escaping from him.

“Why?” he wanted to ask so again—because Juan did not give any explanation until when the man stopped a taxi. However, Zahira seems to have no power. He lost a lot of energy to cry. Not to mention the tightness that spread everywhere, making him even more speechless and it feels like he wants to shed tears again.

Meanwhile, Juan's head was no less noisy either. Question “Why?” also back and forth there, but with a different context. If Zahira questions why Juan had to lie, Juan questions himself about why he is still so foolish as to control his emotions. His age had almost entered the 3rd head, but the habit of running from the problems he brought since childhood still could not be abandoned and even to make his love girl hurt.

At the end of that despair, Juan again let out a long sigh. He raised his head, glaring far ahead at the crowded streets in the rain. Pendlar street lights that collide with the light rays of the car that runs from the opposite direction make the condition of Juan's head less complicated. In his feelings, he wanted to scream. Scolding himself with the worst swearing in the world as a reward for once again, he has hurt Zahira. However, Juan realized, no matter how much he berated himself, what had happened could not be changed. Zahira's heart remains wounded, and he is the culprit.

After creeping on the wet and slippery streets, the taxi finally pulled over. The turning of the wheels slowed down, then completely stopped. The driver confirmed their arrival, Juan immediately paid the fare and rushed down after thanking him. He moved in a hurry, not only because the drizzle was still coming down thinly, but also so that he could run to the other side of the car and open the car door for Zahira.

But as if it was not yet over the storm that had overwhelmed his heart, Juan again made grimace when Zahira had already opened the door for himself. The woman did not even want to look at him, preferring to pass through the gate of the house after thanking the taxi driver who had delivered them.

Juan was back at his feet, reluctant to move from his standing position even after the taxi drove back and Zahira almost reached the door of his house.

“Now to enter?” zahira asked, slightly taut after the female hand held the doorknob. The glowing highlight of the pair of beautiful neutrals looked strange, again adding to the scratch on Juan's already bruised heart.

The drizzle slowly turned into a torrential rain, as the sky deliberately told him that this storm was not yet over, that their journey to the word peace is still very far away and Juan may fall a lot along the way.

With a heart in ruins, a boisterous head and a crumbling body, Juan walked up to Zahira who was still waiting in the doorway that had now opened. After that, he followed behind Zahira without intending to precede the swing of the steps his lover took.

“Assalamualaikum,” Zahira says hello with a raucous voice.

“Waalaikumssalam.” The voice of Umi Maryam said shortly after, followed by the appearance of the figure of the woman who was still wearing a mukena. “Eh, there is Juan also.” He discovers Juan's existence behind Zahira's body.

“Abi where?” zahira asked after kissing her mother's hand.

“Ke mosque, not yet home.” Answer Umi Maryam. Zahira only gave a short nod, then went up to her room to clean up.

“Yes, don't be long, pity Juan.” Umi Maryam's message that was not answered by Zahira at all. The woman continued her steps steadily, as if unconcerned even when she finally turned around later, Juan was out of place.

“Sit, Ju.” Umi Maryam invited Juan to sit on the living room sofa. “What do you drink? Warm tea or coffee?” bargain later.

Juan tried to make a smile, then shook his head slowly. “Not bother, Umi. White water aja.” Her speech.

Umi Maryam smiled back as she nodded. “Yes, wait here, let Umi Get you some water.” Then the woman passed from the presence of Juan, swinging leisurely steps towards the kitchen without knowing that behind his back, Juan again groaned his own chest. Groped an invisible wound that almost made him lose his life.

A wound that only Zahira is capable of healing.

...🍁🍁🍁...

Half-nine, after playing the role of a dream ghost candidate in front of Umi Maryam and Abi Hamzah, Juan covered the front porch. His permission to breathe fresh air, when in fact, he was wanting to scoop up as much oxygen as possible because from the moment he joined the conversation with this family, Zahira did not listen at all. The woman would only occasionally display a fake smile and a small chuckle for every dime that Abi Hamzah made. There was no eye contact between them. The woman completely avoided herself.

“Then nanya, you want to go home at what time?” From behind her body, Zahira appears with a facial expression that is too difficult to read. Still the same as before, the woman was reluctant to look at him and preferred to anchor her gaze on the garden light pole in the yard.

“We have to chat first.” Juan. But Zahira was still reluctant to turn her gaze.

“What's the problem?” ask the woman. Although the seat beside Juan was still empty, he insisted on standing by the side of the door.

“Soal Moana, about why I'm matiin hape, everyone. Everything that makes us like gini.”

The first thing Juan received was a deep breath and a long gust that was like no brim. Then, the moment when Zahira finally wanted to turn and nailed to look at him, Juan realized that maybe the woman should indeed turn her gaze in another direction. The eyes of the stranger are still there. It caused a new scratch on Juan's heart, even though the old one had not completely dried up.

“Ya already, explain.” Zahira.

“Sit first, here.” Juan pulled the chair that was beside him, moved it right in front of him.

Zahira looked at the wooden chair Juan had provided for ten full seconds, considering his ability to sit there for an indefinite period of time. Later, because he understood that running away would never solve anything, Zahira finally complied with Juan's wishes. He sat on the chair, but first pulled it back to provide more distance so that their knees would not intersect.

“First of all, I'm sorry.”

“Lewatin just a session of apology, Juan, our time is not much.”

“Stop talking about the time.” Juan disagreed, he also shook his head so hard. “It should be completely clear, so I don't care even if our chat takes time until tomorrow morning.”

“That means you're selfish.”

“I am.” Juan confirmed. Because he is. “I'd better be selfish for the next few hours, than we end up doing nothing.”

And once again, Zahira let out a long sigh. “Lanjutin,” his word.

“Again, I’m so sorry. I'm sorry I had to lie to you about Moana. I don’t mean it, Za. From the beginning, I had intended to make the story all to you, but—“

“But you didn’t,” Zahira interrupts. “Don't tell a story, you didn't even talk to me during our trip home.”

“It's also what you should know the reason.”

Hearing that, Zahira raised next to her eyebrows. Even so, he did not argue and just waited for Juan to continue his words.

“I saw you with another guy last night, and I was jealous. All the stories I want to share with you are gone from the head because I can't control my emotions, Za. He touched you, and you didn't try to dodge.” Along with that heart expression, the shadow of the scene yesterday night again spun vividly in memory. Juan bit his lower lip, his chest hurt again.

Six seconds full, Zahira fell silent. He was digesting Juan's words just now. Recalling who he was with last night, and which man Juan said touched but he didn't try to avoid. Because, Zahira is not a typical person who allows others to touch him at will even though they are fellow women.

“Who?” Zahira thought, she asked herself that, and only inwardly. But when an answer came out of Juan's lips, he knew the question he had made plainly in front of his lover.

“Cowok who together you came out of the hospital earlier. Who also had lunch with you in the break room.”

Suddenly, Zahira's breath stopped. Zayyan's name first appeared in his head, and indeed, that was the answer.

“Mas Zayyan? C’mon, He’s just a fri—“

“I know.” Juan. “I know you're just friends. He also just helped you who almost fell last night. For God's sake, I know, Zahira.” He is so frustrated.

There was a long pause afterwards. No sound came from the lips of the two. There were only clashing eyes as if they were chatting from there.

“I also want to be a good girlfriend, Za. Who does not forbid you to meet anyone, who does not run away from time again there is a problem, which is not jealous and possessive incompetent. I want to be someone who matches what you want. I’m trying, but it still always fails because lately I have always felt bad for you. Whatever I do, no matter how much I love you, everything always seems lacking in my own eyes. And those guys around you, I see things less than me in them.” Juan gave his first confession after a long period of silence.

“Adnan sholeh, he can be a worship partner for Abi and that sometimes makes me think that he can also be a good priest for you. I insecure her obedience in religion, and as an impingement of that sense of insecure, I always slip words of ridicule for her. But, Za, every time I go home, I do not endlessly praise how Adnan can still survive with his faith in the midst of the onslaught of humans doyan maksiat on the outside there.”

“Keep, about the same guy you were in the hospital. I've seen you guys interact with you a few times before last night, you guys look familiar. And, yes, I am insecure again because in my eyes, the young doctor looked far away everything was better than me. You are a profession, which I know your chat can be more connected and you can better know the condition of each because you work in the same field. Come to think of it, he was also more established. His career is more stable than mine, which only benefits family connections. Once our family company went bankrupt, my life was ruined. I don't have a handle, Za.”

Zahira still did not say anything when Juan fell silent again. He was just too confused, not knowing what to respond to Juan's confession with. All he knows is Juan is jealous. Since the beginning of the courtship, the man had already shown symptoms of acute jealousy. And because he loved Juan that much, Zahira never took issue with Juan's jealousy while nothing bad followed.

Zahira never thought that jealousy came from a sense of insecure. He never knew that the lover who in his eyes deeper in all aspects, actually looked less at himself. Unlike the storm that hit when the sky was clear, the fact that slapped Zahira was so great. So, during his five years together, what did he know about this lover?

“I know, it can not be a justification for my cowardly attitude and tend to wear. In any case, just run away again there is a problem not the attitude of a gentleman and I should find a way to nyengkirin feeling insecure, not even I keep it to be big. I just ... just don't know how, Za. My fear that one day I will lose you has made my brain become dull.”

After saying that, Juan grabbed both of Zahira's hands, carrying her on his lap. “I have a lot of lack, Za, I'm sorry. But please forgive your stupid girlfriend for this forgiveness, and give her a chance once again to correct her weird mindset. Please don't worry, Za. Please give me time to fix everything. Once again just. If after coming home from here, I make the same mistake, you can go directly.”

Though inwardly, Juan screamed loudly to prevent that from happening. Zahira is the center of his world now. If that woman were to really leave, she would have no reason to stay in this bastard world. Then the only way is to change for the better, and Juan has sworn he will actually do it.

“I’m nothing without you, Za. One more chance, and I will make you not regret choosing me as the owner of your heart.” And together not a full moon that is almost completely clouded, Juan is still waiting for an answer from his lover. Awaiting what kind of fate he will live after he returned from here. Will it be forgiveness and a second chance that he gets, or will he have to swallow the harsh reality that it is too late to ask for a chance.

Seriate