Chapter 2
There are two types of college students who show up late.
The first type enters class with their head bowed, apologizes, then looks for an empty seat as quickly as possible so their presence won't attract too much attention.
The second type is Sena Wiratama.
“Good morning, Professor.”
Every head turned toward the door.
Sena stood there, breathing hard, his hair a mess, and wearing a smile far too casual for someone who was eleven minutes late.
Behind him, Raka closed his eyes for a moment.
Why am I friends with this guy?
Professor Herlambang stopped his explanation.
The marker was still in his hand.
“Morning?”
Sena glanced at the wall clock.
“It’s still morning, Professor.”
Several students laughed.
Raka wanted to leave him outside.
“Reason?”
“Traffic, Professor.”
“Mr. Sena.”
“Yes, Professor?”
“Your house is seven minutes from campus.”
The laughter grew louder.
Sena kept his innocent expression.
“Traffic in my heart, Professor.”
“Get out.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sena turned around.
Raka glared at him.
“What are you doing?”
“I was told to get out.”
“I haven’t even gone in!”
“Oh, right.”
Professor Herlambang let out a long sigh, like someone questioning every decision he had ever made in his life.
“You two, get inside before I change my mind.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
Sena stepped inside.
Raka followed with his head lowered.
“Sorry, Professor.”
“Now,” Professor Herlambang said, pointing at Raka with the marker. “This one still has manners.”
Sena, already walking toward the seats in the back, immediately turned around.
“I said thank you too, Professor.”
“Sena.”
“Yes, Professor. I’m quiet.”
Raka dropped into the empty seat beside Sena.
He pulled out his laptop.
Opened his book.
Set his phone facedown on the desk.
He tried to listen to the professor’s explanation.
Really tried.
Five minutes later, Sena slid over a slip of paper.
Raka glanced at it.
In big letters, it said:
SO LARA LIKES YOU?
Raka crumpled the paper.
Sena held back a laugh.
Raka turned his attention back to the whiteboard.
Two minutes later, another piece of paper arrived.
MY GUESS IS 93%.
Raka wrote back.
93% BASED ON WHAT?
The paper came back.
INSTINCT.
Raka wrote:
YOUR INSTINCT GOT YOU A C IN STATISTICS.
Sena read it.
He looked offended.
He wrote:
THAT’S SLANDER. I GOT A C+.
Raka almost laughed.
Almost.
Until his phone screen lit up.
A notification appeared.
Lara
Raka grabbed it immediately.
Sena, who saw the movement, grinned.
“Thought you didn’t like her,” he whispered.
Raka elbowed him.
He opened the message.
Lara: Going to Samasta later?
There was no discussion about last night.
No explanation.
No sorry, I lied earlier.
Just a normal question.
Raka typed.
Raka: What time?
The reply came quickly.
Lara: After class.
Raka: Why?
Three dots appeared.
Lara: Kevar wants us to check the rundown again.
Raka waited.
Nothing else came.
He typed:
Raka: Oh.
His thumb stopped.
He wanted to write something else.
What about last night?
The sentence had already appeared in the message box.
Raka stared at it for a few seconds.
Then deleted it.
Raka: Okay.
Sent.
Sena leaned over.
“What the hell?”
“The rundown.”
“So romantic.”
“I’ll punch you.”
“Why so aggressive?”
Professor Herlambang suddenly spoke from the front.
“Raka and Sena.”
They both fell silent.
“If your discussion is more interesting than my material, perhaps you could share it with the class?”
Sena opened his mouth.
Raka immediately stepped on his shoe.
“No, Professor.”
“Good.”
Professor Herlambang turned back to the board.
Sena lowered his head and whispered, “That hurt, idiot.”
“Good.”
But a few seconds later, Raka glanced at his phone again.
His conversation with Lara was still open.
Four messages.
All of them ordinary.
As if 12:47 last night had never happened.
For some reason, that was exactly what irritated Raka.
Samasta Building was much busier during the day.
A student carried boxes from the first floor. Two people were putting up a poster on the bulletin board. Music played far too loudly from one of the rooms.
Raka arrived at 2:12.
Lara was already in the meeting room.
Of course she was.
She sat at the end of the long table with her laptop open and her hair now hastily twisted up with a clip.
Tavia sat beside her.
Kevar stood in front of the whiteboard, reading something from a tablet.
Darel sat two seats away from Lara.
Raka had no idea why his eyes immediately focused on that last detail.
“Only twelve minutes late today,” Kevar said without looking up.
“I feel so welcomed.”
“Sit down.”
Raka pulled out a chair.
At first, he was going to sit across from Lara.
Tavia suddenly put her bag there.
“Someone’s sitting here.”
Raka looked at the chair.
Then at Tavia.
“Your bag?”
“He’s a person too.”
“Since when?”
“Since now.”
Raka clicked his tongue.
The only empty seat was beside Lara.
Tavia smiled.
Raka knew immediately.
She had done it on purpose.
He sat down without a word.
Lara glanced at him.
“You’re late.”
“Twelve minutes.”
“Still late.”
“You’re not the chairperson.”
“I’m a citizen who cares about punctuality.”
Raka stared at her.
“You told someone to go to bed at one in the morning last night, and now you’re talking about punctuality?”
Lara’s hand, which was holding a pen, stopped.
For only a fraction of a second.
Tavia immediately turned toward them.
“Last night?”
Raka regretted it.
Lara was faster.
“He asked about an assignment.”
“Oh.”
Tavia nodded.
Then her eyes narrowed.
“At one in the morning?”
“Such a dedicated student,” Lara said flatly.
“Very dedicated.”
Lara stepped on his shoe under the table.
Raka almost made a sound.
He turned toward her.
Lara kept looking at her laptop as if she hadn’t done anything.
Raka stepped on the tip of her shoe in return.
Lara shot him a sharp look.
Raka smiled.
For a few seconds, everything felt normal again.
Like before that message.
Before Raka started questioning every look Lara gave him.
Every late-night chat.
Every time she contacted him just to say something she could have told anyone.
Kevar slapped the table.
“Focus.”
Everyone looked forward again.
“We have three weeks left until Aksantara Week. The main rundown is almost final. Our problems now are sponsors and performers.”
Tavia raised her hand.
“Publication design is covered.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“So everyone knows my division is competent.”
Kevar ignored her.
The meeting continued.
Raka tried to take notes.
Really tried.
Until Darel pushed a small box toward Lara.
“Want some?”
Lara looked inside.
French fries.
“Thanks.”
She took one.
Raka stopped typing.
Darel looked back at his tablet.
There was nothing strange about it.
Offering someone food was an entirely normal social act.
Entirely.
Normal.
Raka started typing again.
Five seconds later, Lara took another fry.
Raka pressed the keyboard keys a little harder.
Lara glanced at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“What the hell?”
“What did your keyboard do to you?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you hitting it?”
“I’m typing.”
“Like you’re holding a grudge.”
“You’re imagining things.”
Lara shrugged.
Darel suddenly pushed the box closer to her.
“Just take it if you want, Lar.”
Lar.
Raka stared at his laptop screen.
For some reason, that one syllable bothered him.
Everyone usually called her Lara.
Mirea sometimes called her Lar.
So did Tavia.
Raka did it himself all the time.
There was no copyright.
No rule saying Darel couldn’t do it.
So why did it feel so annoying?
“Rak.”
Raka snapped back to reality.
Kevar was looking at him.
“Hm?”
“What was I just saying?”
Damn.
“The performers?”
“That was five minutes ago.”
Tavia covered her mouth to hold back a laugh.
Lara whispered, “You’re screwed.”
Raka lightly kicked the leg of her chair.
Kevar sighed.
“You and Lara can check the venue later.”
Raka nodded.
“Okay.”
“Darel’s coming too.”
Raka stopped.
“Why?”
Everyone looked at him.
Too quickly.
Raka cleared his throat.
“I mean, why the three of us?”
“Because Darel’s the field coordinator.”
“Oh.”
Kevar frowned.
“Problem?”
“No.”
“Good.”
The meeting went on.
Sena was right.
Maybe lack of sleep really did make people irritable.
That had to be the reason.
The main hall of Aksantara University was on the west side of campus.
Aksantara Week would use the front courtyard, the hall, and several rooms in the building next door.
Kevar asked them to make sure the performers’ entrances and exits wouldn’t conflict with the visitors’ routes.
Simple work.
It should have taken twenty minutes.
The problem was, Darel was taking it too seriously.
“If the stage is here, the rear access will be narrow,” he said.
Lara looked at the floor plan on her tablet.
“They can go through the side corridor.”
“What if it rains?”
“Put up a connecting tent.”
Darel nodded.
“Could work.”
Raka walked behind them.
Quiet.
Lara finally turned around.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been quiet this whole time.”
“I’m working.”
“You’re usually loud when you work too.”
Darel chuckled.
“Then something’s definitely wrong.”
“See?” Lara pointed at Darel. “Even he noticed.”
Even he.
For some reason, Raka liked it even less.
“I didn’t get much sleep.”
Lara stared at him for a few seconds.
“Because of me?”
The question slipped out.
Darel was walking ahead and probably hadn’t heard.
Raka looked at Lara.
She looked like she wanted to take the question back.
Raka shoved his hands into his pockets.
“What do you think?”
Lara looked away.
“Who told you to think about it?”
“Who told you to send it?”
“It’s deleted.”
“I got a chance to read it.”
“Half of it.”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m curious about the other half.”
Lara stopped walking.
Raka stopped too.
Darel was still several feet ahead.
“Rak.”
“Hm?”
“Can we just forget about it?”
Her tone was different.
She wasn’t joking anymore.
Raka studied her face.
“Why?”
“Because it’s not important.”
“If it’s not important, why did you panic?”
“I didn’t panic.”
“You couldn’t even look at me while you were talking.”
Lara immediately met his eyes.
“There. I’m looking.”
Raka almost smiled.
Almost.
But there was something in Lara’s eyes that made him change his mind.
She looked serious.
And a little afraid.
“I just sent it to the wrong person,” she said.
Raka didn’t answer right away.
“Who was it supposed to go to?”
Lara froze.
Gotcha.
Raka raised one eyebrow.
“You said it was sent to the wrong person.”
“Yeah—”
“Who was it supposed to be for?”
Lara opened her mouth.
No answer came.
Raka waited.
One second.
Two.
Three.
“Lara?”
“For myself.”
Raka frowned.
“Huh?”
“A note.”
“You sent a note to yourself through my chat?”
“I hit the wrong button.”
“That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”
“Fine.”
Lara started walking again.
Raka followed.
“Lara.”
“What the hell?”
“Actually, all this time you’ve what?”
Lara didn’t answer.
“Why are you so curious?”
“Because you’re weird.”
“I am weird.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?”
Raka was about to answer.
Darel turned around from up ahead.
“Are you two dating?”
The world seemed to stop for two seconds.
Lara stared at Darel.
So did Raka.
“What?” Lara asked.
Darel laughed.
“You’ve been arguing like a couple this whole time.”
“No,” Lara answered quickly.
Too quickly.
Raka didn’t know why that one word felt like something dropping right into the middle of his chest.
Darel raised his hands.
“Okay, okay.”
Lara let out a small laugh.
“Me and him? No way.”
The second sentence was worse.
Raka smiled.
By reflex.
The kind of smile he used when something bothered him but he didn’t want anyone to know.
“Yeah,” he said. “No way.”
Lara turned toward him.
Their eyes met.
For the first time that day, Lara looked like someone had just said something that hurt her.
Strange.
Wasn’t she the one who had said it first?
At four in the afternoon, the rain came down.
Hard.
The overcast sky above Ranuwena finally gave in.
Raka stood beneath the canopy of Samasta Building, watching the campus courtyard turn gray.
Darel had already left because he had class.
Tavia and Kevar were still upstairs.
Lara stood a few steps away beside him.
They had barely spoken since their conversation in the hall.
Raka opened the ride app.
The prices had doubled.
He closed it immediately.
“Damn.”
Lara glanced over.
“How much?”
“Twice as much.”
“That’s what you get for being spoiled.”
“Then what?”
“The bus stop.”
“It’s raining.”
“Then wait for it to let up.”
Raka slipped his phone into his pocket.
Quiet again.
Usually, silence between them never felt strange.
They could sit for twenty minutes without speaking and still be comfortable.
Today was different.
There were too many unfinished sentences.
Lara toyed with the end of her shirt sleeve.
Raka watched from the corner of his eye.
“Rak.”
“Hm?”
“Are you mad?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
Raka almost laughed.
“Now you’re the one calling me a liar?”
“Because I know.”
“Know what?”
“When you’re mad, your answers get short.”
“I’m not mad.”
“Annoyed?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Raka stared at the rain.
He didn’t know the answer himself.
Or maybe he did, but didn’t want to admit it.
“Tired.”
Lara gave a small nod.
“Oh.”
Silence again.
Rain pounded against the canopy roof.
Several students ran across the courtyard, covering their heads with their bags.
Lara suddenly said, “I was joking earlier.”
Raka turned toward her.
“About what?”
“What I said in the hall.”
“‘No way’?”
Lara nodded.
Raka put both hands in his pockets.
“Was it wrong?”
Lara looked at him.
Raka continued, “We’re impossible, right?”
He said it lightly.
Almost like a joke.
But Lara didn’t laugh.
“What do you think?”
The question left Raka silent.
The rain kept falling.
Vehicles passed on the road in front of campus.
Raka looked at Lara’s face.
For a moment, he remembered last night’s message again.
Actually, all this time I’ve—
His heart beat a little faster.
Maybe Sena was right.
Maybe—
Lara’s phone vibrated.
She looked at the screen.
Something changed in her expression.
“My ride’s here.”
Raka blinked.
“Oh.”
Lara put her phone in her bag.
She opened a folding umbrella.
Before walking away, she turned back.
“Rak.”
“Hm?”
Lara’s lips parted.
As if she wanted to say something.
Then she gave him a faint smile.
“Never mind.”
Raka stared at her.
“Again?”
“What?”
“Do you have a condition where you can’t finish a sentence?”
Lara chuckled.
“Maybe.”
She opened the umbrella.
Raka shook his head.
“Go home.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
Lara jogged toward the gate.
Raka remained beneath the canopy.
He watched her get into the car.
The vehicle drove away.
Only then did Raka take out his phone.
There was one message from Sena.
Sena: How’s your future girlfriend?
Raka snorted.
Raka: No way.
He stared at the two words.
For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to send them.
Raka deleted them.
Replaced them.
Raka: Shut up.
Sent.
That night, at 11:18, Lara sat on the floor of the balcony at Aster Pavilion.
The air after the rain was cold.
Mirea sat beside her, eating chips.
“You’ve been acting weird all night,” she said.
Lara hugged her knees.
“I’m fine.”
“Did you two fight?”
“No.”
“Raka?”
Lara turned toward her.
“Why does everything have to be about Raka?”
Mirea chewed.
“Because if it weren’t about Raka, you wouldn’t be making that face.”
Lara took a chip.
“You’re annoying.”
“That’s mine.”
“It’s mine now.”
Mirea let her have it.
A few seconds passed.
Lara finally said, “Someone asked if we were dating today.”
“And?”
“I said no.”
“You’re not.”
Lara shot her an annoyed look.
Mirea shrugged.
“Fact.”
“Then I said… me and him were impossible.”
“Raka heard?”
“Yeah.”
“What did he say?”
Lara lowered her head.
“He said yeah.”
Mirea stopped chewing.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“You’re hurt.”
“I’m not.”
“Lara.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why do you look like you just got a D in a three-credit class?”
Lara huffed.
She picked up her phone.
Opened her chat with Raka.
Their last messages were still about the rundown.
Lara typed.
Do you really think we’re impossible?
She read it.
Deleted it.
She typed again.
If I liked you, what would you do?
Her thumb stopped.
Mirea glanced over.
“Don’t delete it.”
Lara immediately covered the screen with her palm.
“Don’t snoop.”
“It’s visible.”
Lara read the sentence again.
If I liked you, what would you do?
“Send it,” Mirea said.
“You’re crazy.”
“Why?”
“Because you are.”
“You almost confessed last night.”
“And I deleted it.”
“Exactly.”
Lara took a breath.
Her thumb moved toward the send button.
Stopped.
She imagined Raka reading the message.
Imagined the three dots appearing.
Imagined his reply.
Then she imagined the worst possibility.
I see you as a friend, Lar.
Lara’s chest tightened just imagining it.
She deleted the entire sentence.
Mirea sighed.
“Again.”
“I’m not ready.”
“What are you waiting for?”
Lara fell silent.
Mirea continued, “For him to fall for someone else?”
That made Lara turn toward her.
“Don’t say things like that.”
“Why not? It could happen.”
Lara didn’t answer.
“Raka has a life of his own,” Mirea said. “One day, someone could come along who’s braver than you.”
Lara looked at her phone screen.
There were no new messages.
“If he likes me,” she said quietly, “then he should be able to say it too.”
Mirea sighed.
“And maybe Raka is somewhere else right now saying the exact same thing about you.”
Lara went quiet.
On Darsa Street, at almost the same time, Raka was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Sena had just sent him a message.
Sena: Just ask her directly.
Raka: Ask what?
Sena: Whether she likes you or not.
Raka laughed silently.
Raka: And what if the answer is no?
Sena’s reply came quickly.
Sena: Then it’s no.
Raka: You make it sound so easy.
Sena: It is.
Raka locked his screen.
Five seconds.
Then opened it again.
He entered Lara’s chat.
He typed.
You asked earlier whether we were possible or not. What did you mean?
Delete.
He typed again.
Lar.
Delete.
Then:
Still awake?
His thumb nearly pressed send.
Raka stopped.
What for?
They were seeing each other tomorrow anyway.
He could ask tomorrow.
There was still time.
He deleted the message.
Locked his phone.
Set it beside his pillow.
In two different places in Ranuwena, two people did almost the same thing.
Typed.
Read.
Were afraid.
Deleted.
Then both thought they still had tomorrow.
But neither of them knew how much could change in a single day.