YEAR 2010: ROOT

SPENDING almost half a year alone inside the dorm granted me the aloof syndrome, according to Alex, not that I’m not aloof to begin with. I just like having everything by myself, working in a group doesn’t really fit me. Less is more, definitely.

Looking back to my childhood era, I didn’t have that much of same age people surrounding me. To be able to have three best friends in Jakarta while I pursue my senior high school is considered a luxury for me. Added Alex and Henry, I probably should give thank by going to church and donate everything that I have.

So when I got back to my dorm and found almost all of my stuffs being squeezed into my bed, Alex cheered out loud despite my obvious annoyed state to see some of the larger art papers crumpled. She said that the only result that will come out of having a roommate was a more friendly me.

I was peeved, way more peeved when I couldn’t deduct what’s my roommate’s major at first sight and became way more peeved than ever to finally getting introduced to a very cheerful Choi Min Ah who was taking the same class as me. I found her problematic, too loud for her own good and therefore annoying.

Was, is the keyword there. Even Alex agreed for I didn’t change that much.

*******

It was like a déjà vu all over again as I lied there on my bed inside my dorm, eyes closed and thunder rumbled deep within my core.

Again, I was being faced with the same old dilemma. Having known one person who has been my world ever since I was born into this life, I could easily recognize a talent when I face one. The push and pull inside me wouldn’t stop pestering me about my attitude toward Choi Min Ah for she possessed the only thing in the world that I desire the most, that exquisite talent that is naturally bestowed upon her existence even though she isn’t born into artistic bloodline nature.

It seems like the creature likes to play hide and seek, or the creature is just too ignorant border lining a sick jokester.

I was born into that artistic bloodline nature yet I don’t possess such a fortune to grow as one. The way my brain works is definitely different than the rest of my big families; they’re more righty while I’m lefty.

The fact that I was born as the first child by two seconds earlier haunted my whole existence for they foreseen the first born son to be delivered in advanced. You see, I have everything in perfect control except the shortage in my sense of art but the first born son, he has that strong sense of arts bestowed upon him yet he couldn’t apply it freely for he doesn’t have a perfect control over his own body.

Impulsiveness and I just never click.

I’ve been wary of myself for as long as I can remember, the decision of moving to Jakarta and out of the main family’s direct touch was only a matter of time. In my understanding, it was called separating the wheat from the chaff. Others saw it as the opportunity to learn to be more independent. Funny, how it has been the very sole thing that I’ve been doing ever since I’m able to read and write.

As a twelve years old child, I was introduced into another side of the world to which I found endearing. Rio, the fallen angel, is the main attraction of that world.

He was only sixteen when he decided to drop out of school and enrolled in one of the fashion school at Jakarta. He was eighteen when he was prosecuted by the elders of our main family.

His parents are both lefty, an outcast of the main family. It was a given to have their descendants with the same label. But Rio refused to share the same sentiment. My arrival got him under the spotlight; bewilderment adorned his face when his action got sniffed by the elders. But he didn’t blame me for it and probably that’s what drew me into him.

I watched him out there, struggling with his blurry life unbeknownst by his parents. I was there through his ups and down, quietly observing him to fight for his belief. He gained a faithful listener and I kind of have something to kill time with while I was in seclusion.

Through Rio, I get to taste hope. I was fifteen when he surfed up the popularity with his first national award which qualified him to compete against other Southeast Asian designers the following year. I noticed the elders starting to frequently visit the outcasts.

And through Rio also, I tasted my first heart break. I was sixteen when he told me he swayed the other way and the name Kim Jae Joong came up. What followed after was him shoving me every details of that certain male, overwhelming me into thinking which one is the real Rio?

For over two years I fumbled by myself, all while keeping a façade even in front of Rio. We grew apart naturally, him busy enough with his steel determination over his clothing line and me over his last words, “It’s scary how you are able to live as if you’re not. You have no desire, no passion, no determination, and nothing at all to move yourself. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic.”

Meeting Kim Jae Joong gave me a lot of headache, and meeting Choi Min Ah gave me the shadow of heartbreak.

*******

The clock struck nine in the evening.

Getting a phone call from the unknown Indonesia’s number got my heart skipped a beat. And when that familiar voice came out through the new mobile phone, my heart decided to skip not just a beat.

“Hey…,” the voice right at the other side greeted. I my breath in, contemplating on how to greet the voice back.

“You there…,” the voice seemed hesitated and I closed my eyes as I ordered my brain to work on something, anything.

“…Rin?”

I let out a shaky breath, “Rio.”

We stayed in silent for like a minute or two, how many years have it been since the last conversation we had? Three? Four?

“I…asked Joe to find you.” The only thing that came to my mind was what for?

“To brag about how your black tulle gown being worn by that monster lady?” I said.

Instead of replying, he gave a breathy air. “No…”

“Congratulation.” I said.

He hummed and we stayed in another silence for another minute.

“I miss you.” He said.

A bitter pang passed by my chest, “I don’t.”

He gave another breathy air. “You’ll forever be my muse no matter what, you know.”

Although he comes from the furthest branch family, the same blood still runs inside him. They said blood is thicker than water, I couldn’t be more agreeing. Rio, somehow, had launched himself to the bottom part of my heart. The ingrained family custom is hard to break indeed.

“I’ll make sure to send you Dahlias.” I hung up the phone and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. Muse. I’ll forever be his muse. How many layers more that I have to break?

My mobile phone beeped, a text message received. It informed me about Rio’s first fashion show schedule. I grabbed it and in a blur seconds later, it was already at the floor with cracked screen.

The door burst opened revealing a worried look etched on the studio’s owner. Professor Kim stepped inside and looked around, her eyes landed on the floor. I gulped hard; I’ve let my impulsiveness taken control again.

Professor Kim shook her head, for a second there I thought she was going to lecture me. Instead, she opened the door wider and another figure could be seen. I got super tensed; a new understanding came barreling into me.

“I told you, it isn’t a really suitable time to visit. We’re in a very hectic schedule and Karin wouldn’t be able to aid you. Give it up, dongsaeng.” She grabbed the black thing and shoved it into her younger brother’s chest. “Get some rest, Karin. Come on Monday. Mean time, I’ll just ask In Na to attend the meetings.”

I saw Professor Kim’s back disappear from my sight, and I could feel the uneasiness. I hastily walked away from my desk and quickly trudge toward professor’s direction when suddenly a loud crash emerged. A gasp followed after before hands draped on me and pushed me to sit on the white sofa at the end of my workstation.

My eyes felt hot, I bit my lips real hard and balled my fist. Crying wouldn’t solve a thing. But the uneasiness grew bigger and bigger within me, even I could sense the surge of my ugly side.

“Don’t move,” the figure warned before he rushed out and back in with dustbin and broom. The shattered glass got cleaned in one go and he rushed out once again before he came back in and kneeled in front of me.

“Are you alright?” the figure asked.

I didn’t reply. It felt too much, the anguish.

A deep sigh escaped, “How long have you been working closely with noona? I believe her earlier statement could be translated as noona got worried over your health and that’s why noona asked you to take a rest tomorrow. In Na-ssi won’t be able to substitute your position, don’t worry.”

I looked up and was met with two brown orbs. The figure offered me a warm smile as his hand patted my head.

“You don’t even know which one is In Na-ssi.” I mumbled hoarsely.

He tilted his head and bit back a smile, “Well, nobody could stand my noona the way you did. In Na-ssi included.”

He has a very weird charm, it’s like everything about him is contagious. When his smile got wider and wider, I couldn’t stop myself from not following. But there was still a tug at my heart and sure enough the sight of the broken mobile phone effectively flattened my lips.

“I’m sorry,” I said as my eyes fell down upon the black thing on his left hand; the mobile phone that he gave to me to use replacing my old one right after the mugging incident.

“Oh this?” he said as he lifted it up. “Don’t worry about it. Why don’t we buy the new one together tomorrow?”

“You don’t have any schedule tomorrow?”

He shook his head, “I have one or two interview. It’s okay, buying a hand phone isn’t that time consuming.”

And when he saw me wanted to argue, he quickly pointed his finger. “Tell you what, I’ll accompany you to buy your new hand phone then you’ll accompany me over my interview.”

My forehead creased.

“It’s from American cable,” he said solemnly and my mouth went ‘O’. It wasn’t the first for me to somehow aid him on communication part. “Right, let’s bid good night to noona first before we go back.”

And with that he pulled me up and we headed upstairs, bid good night to the owner and went down toward his waiting van. All the way back to the dorm, his words echoed on my mind.

“Oppa will forever like you no matter what, you know. So stop apologizing and just be comfortable with me.”

A silent sigh escaped my lips as I turned my face to see the figure sitting beside me. They both have these weird features that look eerily the same, similar personality and even tantamount nature yet they aren’t even related to each other except by me, in which they both were oblivious about.

The clock struck twelve in the evening.

[A/N]

I've been told that all Indonesian people must have known this Rio that I picture in this story, so why not? Of course, there's nothing wrong by mixing here and there, right? Let me live in this fiction.