Pitiful Clover

There were times when you just can’t elude yourself from something unpredictable, there were chances where they wouldn’t run into you twice, there were point when you though you could just kick your ass out and said ‘this gotta be something! And I wil kiss my knee crying if I miss this!’. It came to me, twice. I let the first gone, but the second time… I ran into it, spread my arm wide, I won’t miss this.


It was just typical long week end, one big Christian day on Thursday. And the almighty Director lend his helpful hand by adding another ‘forced vacation’ as people used to call cuti bersama on the Friday. Means, my Saturday comes on Wednesday and what is more than miracle when I just get my mind bored by the usual-do-nothing-vacation in home and though maybe I could have long-date with Hani since he seems okay with my idea.


I grabbed my ticket to Bandung, nearly one week before the big day.


And what else more than a fuck if the H-3 typus shot you down like a birdie. Like you’re boneless useless and your morning glory was so another life a go. I was deadly weak in the point my mom thought I should get hospitalized. And I felt so cracked a bit when Hani said I should be on my bed for week if I want to get well soon. No fucking way, the ticket was on my pocket! And who’s the stupid one getting rest on typus for a week? So gay.


If I should die on my way to reach you, so be it.


I mean it.


And there we fall again. Like little birds in springtime, every drop of words mean everything when I could grab him in hug, kiss him like we never did, and have our time like we never get life before. I got well soon as I step my wedges in Bandung. Even mostly I still have some difficulties in eating (habit huh), everything never felt so fine like that. We ran into so much places, holding hand each other, kissing, make love (typically, it is our freedom of speech if we call it that way or not, eh?). He was my cure, and God blessed me with this beautiful moment. I could watch the sprinkle of lights in the high slope of Upper High Dago with a glass of warm milk and fascinating boyfriend. What is more heaven-like than this?


So, when I grade how much I love Hani, like now, I’d like to say the most delicate sentences. One, he’s not an artificial substitutional of persons you may thought related to my unrequited love. Two, I would definitely leave one Nash, two Nash, hundred of Nash, thousand of Nash if it means this thing I should did to get Hani. He is everything, right now, all last. And I would definitely kick one, two, three, thousand Alita, thousand more of Ruri, thousand more of Tika, of every woman that interested in him. I hate competition.