The deafening boom of EDM shook the dance floor, packed with dozens of teenagers who had lost all sense of time.
In the corner of the VIP room, Langit lounged back with a cigarette tucked between his lips.
His devastatingly handsome face—with its strong jaw, prominent nose, and sharp, hawk-like eyes—made him the center of attention without even trying.
A girl in a tight red dress sat on his lap, giggling coquettishly as she poured alcohol into Langit’s glass.
“Have another drink, Lang?” she teased, holding out the glass.
Langit only gave a faint smirk, took the glass, and downed it in one gulp.
The heat spread down his throat, dulling the emptiness that always settled in his chest whenever night fell.
Just three months ago, he’d still been wearing a neat uniform, working on biology assignments with Senja in the library.
But his parents’ explosive fights at home had changed everything. Langit was sick of being the good kid.
The phone in his leather jacket pocket vibrated. A message appeared on its screen, cracked at one corner.
**Senja:** *Lang, you’re skipping school again today? I’ll bring you the math notes if you want.*
Langit stared blankly at the name. A sudden, aching pang stirred inside him.
Senja had always known how to care, and that very concern was what made Langit feel unworthy of her.
With a swift movement, Langit shut off his phone, tossed it onto the glass table, and pulled the waist of the red-dressed girl in front of him close again.
Tonight, he only wanted to sink deeper, ignoring the fact that he was slowly destroying himself.
Without realizing it,
The morning sun had already climbed high in the eastern sky, its rays slipping through the curtains of Langit’s thickly draped bedroom.
The noisy traffic outside did nothing to disturb his deep sleep, brought on by the lingering alcohol from the night before.
Only when the sound of a door slamming downstairs rang out with a deafening boom did Langit jolt awake from his dreams.
He groaned softly, clutching his head as though thousands of needles were stabbing it.
The remnants of his hangover still clung to his nerves, making every movement feel heavy and sluggish.
He glanced at the old wall clock, which now read ten in the morning. It was painfully obvious he’d missed first period, second period, and probably third, too.
Yet instead of feeling guilty or panicked like an ordinary high school student caught skipping class, Langit merely snorted cynically.
He threw off his rumpled blanket, planted his bare feet on the cold wooden floor, and staggered toward the bathroom.
In front of the slightly cracked sink mirror, he stared intently at his reflection. Dull, bloodshot eyes, thick, disheveled hair, and the heavy smell of cigarette smoke clinging to his skin greeted him that morning.
This clearly wasn’t Langit anymore—the school’s beloved basketball captain, always cheered by the crowd on the court.
This was the new Langit, a rebellious teenager convincing himself he no longer cared about any rules.
After forcing himself through a perfunctory shower and putting on his gray uniform in deliberate disarray, Langit snatched up his motorcycle keys and oversized leather jacket.
Downstairs, the luxurious minimalist house felt utterly empty, like a graveyard.
His mother had gone somewhere before dawn, probably busy at an arisan gathering or simply socializing with her socialite friends.
She did all of it to avoid the bitter reality of her broken marriage. But where was his father?
The middle-aged man had hardly come home since the explosive fight the previous month, filled with furious shouting.
The silence inside this house was a deadly poison that always made Langit want to run outside.
The roar of Langit’s sport bike split through the city streets under the blazing afternoon sun.
Instead of heading for the closed school gates, he turned toward a shabby coffee stall behind an old factory.
It was the main hangout where his delinquent crew usually gathered.
The moment he killed the engine, a chorus of raucous cheers greeted him enthusiastically. “Whoa, looks like our big boss just woke up!” Bara shouted, the crew’s leader.
Bara tossed a pack of expensive cigarettes at Langit’s chest. He caught it casually, sat on a creaking wooden bench, and lit one.
“Last night got a little out of hand,” Langit replied lazily, drawing laughter from the others.
“By the way, things with the Garuda High kids still aren’t settled,” Bara provoked him.
“They had the nerve to tag our school wall. You just gonna sit there, Lang?”
Langit’s young blood boiled. A brawl was a place to vent his anger.
“When are we making a move?” he asked coldly.
“This afternoon,” Bara said with a grin.
As Langit headed into the alley to buy some drinks, he stopped short.
Across the street, a girl in a neat uniform stood frozen, hugging a stack of books.
Time froze. Their eyes locked.
Extraordinary disappointment shone in Senja’s gentle eyes.
The girl stepped forward, about to call his name. But Langit’s pride was stubborn.
To hide his vulnerability, he put on a face as cold as ice.
Without saying a word, he looked away and walked back into the alley, leaving Senja rooted to the spot.
He hadn’t even fought yet, but his heart was already battered and bruised.