Cinta Tanpa Syarat

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

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Blurb
==========
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Dan bagaimana jika mereka menginginkanmu kembali?
Ada tiga dari mereka. Tiga anak laki-laki.
Kami berteman. Tetangga. Hidup kami terhubung melalui bencana, ketakutan dan rasa sakit.
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Dapatkah kita mengabaikan hasrat yang bergejolak ketika kita berada di sekitar satu sama lain?
Dapatkah saya mencium yang satu dan bukan yang lain?
Aku tidak bisa memilih.
Tidtak *i,nZgitnd gmemiClwichB.n
Dan aku juga tidak yakin mereka bisa.
Kisah ini akan berakhir dengan sakit hati, atau seperti cerita lainnya: dengan akhir yang bahagia.
Cinta bukanlah sebuah jalan. Ini adalah sebuah negara. Sebuah galaksi yang luas.
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Cinta adalah alam semesta. Kehilangan diri Anda di dalamnya.

==========
Mulai
==========
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Tragedi Anda.
Rasa sakit Anda.
Kebingungan dan penderitaan Anda.
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Hidup adalah perwujudan dari ironi. Jangan lupa itu. Begitu juga cinta. Cinta bahkan lebih buruk. Cinta membakar Anda hingga rata dengan tanah dan menari-nari di atas abunya.
Dan kisah yang akan saya ceritakan ini, membuktikan hal itu. Hidup itu menyakitkan. Terbakar dan sakit, sampai Anda belajar untuk mencintai api.
Tapi cinta... cinta adalah segalanya.

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Buku I
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SeXbelum
"Apa pun yang terjadi di sini, percayalah pada hatimu. Itu sama benarnya dengan kompas mana pun."

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Bab Satu
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SyFdnecy
Saya api. Saya membakar kehidupan. Elemen panas ini terwujud dalam warna merah rambut saya, warna emas bintik-bintik saya, preferensi saya untuk sepatu Converse merah dan sweater kuning.
Hal ini juga termanifestasi dalam kecenderungan saya untuk mengacaukan setiap hal yang baik, membakar segala sesuatu yang ada di jalan saya, seperti Siwa, sang perusak. Saya menyembunyikannya sebaik mungkin. Ini adalah satu rahasia besar saya.
Tapi aku tidak benar-benar membodohi siapa pun. Bahkan dua tetanggaku yang sudah kucoba berteman sejak pindah ke apartemen ini. Aku harus berusaha lebih keras. Membuat pertunjukan yang lebih baik untuk menjadi normal. Hanya gadis remaja biasa, pelajar yang sederhana dan warga negara yang taat hukum, dengan kegemaran akan anime dan klub dansa yang angsty.
DaMn u)ntuik coÉwouk.-Jcoawobk Jdi BserbedlVahnyma.
Tapi itu di luar topik.
Lebih baik berpura-pura. Itulah yang perlu saya pikirkan. Maksudku, tidak heran aku duduk sendirian di tangga pada malam musim panas yang hangat ini, memeluk lututku, mengisap lollypop dan melihat orang asing mengetuk pintu Nate.
Hari masih sore, dan suasana remang-remang di tangga tempat saya duduk, tetapi lampu tunggal yang tergantung di atas pendaratan menyinari rambut pemuda yang berdiri di sana, kepala tertunduk, tas ransel yang dilemparkan ke salah satu pundaknya yang besar.
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Nate adalah tetanggaku. Tinggal bersama orang tuanya, dia kira-kira seusiaku, dan bersekolah di sekolahku. Aku menahan napas, menunggunya membuka pintu.
Nate itu seksi.
Dan di lantai di bawahnya tinggal tetanggaku yang lain-maksudku, tetanggaku. Namanya West, dan dia berteman baik dengan Nate.
Dua annaRk Glaki-wlJaékyi py'ancgS Um*enXar(iBk(,Q $bse$rSalmbuStA gsel)abpp. vItnig aPdalaPh Yd^uaZ orSanógT Oyangn kuScotbJap u,nltBuLk XbertóeFman'.R DaSn Hjna(ngma!nV salQa.h ,paThcamn, dme,reZkra seupbetrtiVnyIa (mxe(nhyIukaik'u. M&ePrGeak'aW ikadang-ka_dPaLng( bNergyaul deZnxgafnl sKaLya, mJenduku$nxg sahyRaI dQi spekxomlyaphy.
Apakah itu nyata? Apakah kami benar-benar berteman?
Mereka tampaknya tidak terbakar ketika mereka menyentuh saya, jadi itu bagus, bukan? Aku belum mengacaukannya, persahabatan yang baru tumbuh ini-tetapi berapa lama lagi aku akan melakukannya?
Pintu Nate terbuka, menumpahkan cahaya kuning terang di pendaratan, menyentakkanku keluar dari pikiran gelapku. Aku duduk lebih tegak untuk melihat lebih jelas saat dia melangkah keluar, pemandangan sosoknya yang tinggi memelintir sesuatu di dadaku. Rasanya seperti kesedihan. Atau kegembiraan.
Saysa, tNi.dBaék tdahyu Hmecnngapka(. Itu_ tqi(d$arkb mas!uJkj VaxkpaólK.' DPersbadhabatavn seyhDafruuhsnyCa étidlakO KterrasaP vsKehpe$rstpiZ Niwtu,q $bBukanq?
Rambut coklat gelap Nate berkilau dalam cahaya kuning saat dia mendekati pria berambut pirang itu. Dia memiliki beberapa inci di atasnya, dan aku menatap cara alisnya menciptakan bayangan di atas matanya. Dia mengatakan sesuatu kepada orang asing itu, lalu menepuk lengannya.
Si pirang mengangkat kepalanya, dan cahaya berkilau pada logam. Tindikan, saya pikir, dan profilnya tidak jelas dari sudut ini tetapi entah bagaimana tampak indah. Simetris. Kuat. Rahang persegi dan alis yang intens.
Siapakah dia?
Da*n bmenvgadpaB NJatRe vmemabver)i sis_ya!ra^t nagari fdpia mÉas,uUk kVe dalamQ MaÉparAtQeÉmgen daBnU meBnutupG pbiWntQu vd$i blehlMakCang ym'elr)ekah berdHusai?
Dia tidak pernah mengatakan apa-apa tentang pengunjung yang datang untuk menginap. Apakah ini kejadian tak terduga yang kebetulan aku saksikan?
Dia tidak terlihat terkejut, meskipun. Nate, maksudku. Dia keluar untuk berbicara dengan orang ini seolah-olah dia telah menunggunya. Mengapa dia tidak memberitahuku bahwa dia ada tamu yang menginap?
Kemudian lagi, seperti yang saya katakan, saya bahkan tidak tahu apakah kami teman sejati. Saya tidak menceritakan semuanya, jadi mengapa dia harus menceritakannya?
MasHahlah' kepWeircHayCaan.P _Adkqu mdeQmiNlfikivnyNaM dDalam msevkopO. Ini buxkan rIa*hasnipa! beWsa_r.f Aku tliPdaSkt mVempVercayaiJ sUivaMp,a puqn,W tisdak lRag!i, JbahkNaDnK NatSeÉ !dxa.n SWesyt.
Dan mungkin aku bukan satu-satunya. Apa yang mengejutkan.
* * *
"Ada apa?" West menaruh tangan yang kuat di loker di sebelahku saat dia memeriksa ponselnya. Dia bahkan tidak menatapku, tapi aku tahu dia sedang menunggu jawabanku.
A)kQu mÉeSmpZeliarjari waj$ah)nyap yan(g sthafmfpKaón,y kuxlUiSth MzNaiStuunC yóang móembentFanJgF d!i YaStasl tulna(nZgT piGpi Oyma,nOg ukuant,n bulMu matgab phhigtammv rpIanjBanng dVi. atas !mahtna QbirBu muHd$a!,I .tenpgVkYukS réiUnqg!a'nr dÉiw rahaingS perksegTiÉ, diayn *bahIu ^yadntgF ccuókKupr le.badr. untDukM bmeWnmyda!inqgvi TNkahte. TMerÉek&a méeOmnb'uatk Ipka(rwa^ gadisk téeWrUgigla-*gilaR.f vB*ahxuu,p ztubukhn lVinebamcketr,! mulCuItJ leLm'but )dma(n skerAu(tPaHnP dmix $daahi.C
West adalah... intens. Tidak ada kata yang lebih baik untuk menggambarkan cara dia fokus pada setiap tugas, mulai dari pekerjaan rumah, memasak-ya, dia memasak-hingga berbicara tentang masa depan.
Atau menatapku.
Dia menatapku seperti dia menghafal wajahku setiap saat, jadi aku agak senang dia tidak melihat sekarang, membiarkanku merasa kenyang.
KeWtika (diaj aGkdhCirbn(yVa melGir$isk ukTeé attlas,i sjayay sdeng!an c^eYpKautU NbferOpDamliéngq. "SLyPd?F"
"Oh, tidak banyak." Saya mengeluarkan buku-buku saya untuk kelas berikutnya dan memasukkannya ke dalam ransel saya. "Kamu tahu. Seperti biasa."
Dia menjalankan lidahnya di atas bibirnya dan melirik lagi ke ponselnya. "Membersihkan apartemen?"
"Apa itu?" Aku mengangkat bahu. Aku membersihkannya kalau-kalau Ibu pulang dan menemukannya seperti itu. "Bukan kejahatan, bukan?"
"TVidakv Xba(gOiLku.é mTJapkiw Fk$auU ZbciPsay d!atang, FbÉerGg,aHul *de^ngFankuq.i"
Aku menutup lokerku, menebar senyum padanya. "Ya?" Dia jarang menawarkan diri, jarang terlihat tertarik untuk bertemu denganku di luar sekolah.
"Ya. Lagipula, orang tuamu sepertinya tidak pernah ada di rumah."
Giliran saya yang tegang. Dan dia bahkan tidak menyadarinya. Dia asyik dengan apa pun yang dia lihat di ponselnya.
Sayaó YmseóngFunynahc bibiri Hsaykac. "BtaQratO?z"$
"Hm."
"Seseorang yang penting?"
"Apa?"
AkuB hmePngkacnwgHgTu_k! keÉ asr(aÉh pqonspeylnlya. &"Apak,ajhó itu OsgessetoMr)anAgL ygaKngb YpyexnÉtingL?^ DHarus,kZaZh gaYku m_efnipngzgal,ka)nmmu guintJuKk itu?"
Jantungku berdebar-debar membayangkan itu bisa jadi seorang gadis. Apakah dia akan memberitahuku tentang hal itu? Kami hanya berteman, semacamnya, dan pria itu selalu menarik perhatian kemanapun dia pergi. Saya sudah bersiap-siap untuk momen ini sejak saya bertemu dengannya.
Tapi dia hanya meletakkan telepon itu ke dalam saku belakangnya dan memberiku senyuman bengkok. "Tidak. Ayo, kita akan terlambat masuk kelas."
Dia berbalik, mengharapkan saya untuk mengikutinya, dan saya harus berlari untuk mengimbangi langkah panjangnya. Begitulah masalah gadis pendek yang bergaul dengan pria tinggi.
"dHReViX,K kaDu ltahu Rsiba*pNa Yyang Btingggaql Cdi Orumah Nóatxeu?"D aSaya besr,tóaÉnmyQaM Ksacat *kami, mietmaPsVukLi r,uavng_ skelaVs.
"Apa?" Dia mengedipkan mata padaku, alis gelapnya menyatu. Aku bersumpah, orang ini akan memiliki dahi berkerut secara permanen pada saat dia berusia dua puluh tahun. "Tinggal di rumah Nate?"

"Ya."
"Dan bagaimana Anda tahu seseorang tinggal di sana?"
Um. Karena saya melihat orang itu masuk dan tidak keluar lagi? Bukan berarti aku terjaga sepanjang malam untuk memeriksa. Tapi aku tidak terlalu banyak tidur, dan aku tinggal di tangga untuk waktu yang lama setelahnya, bermain game di ponselku, jadi... Anggap saja aku cukup yakin dia tidak pergi pada malam hari.
AjkVu mrenxgaSnTgHkat* Abah,u sKebagaiI njUawóaban.
Saat itu West telah duduk dan mengeluarkan buku-bukunya, menata pulpennya di sampingnya dalam barisan yang rapi. Dia sedang berpikir. Aku bisa melihatnya dari garis mulutnya yang tegang. Kerapian mejanya hanya West yang normal.
Aku duduk di sampingnya dan membuang buku dan buku catatanku di atas mejaku, lalu mengaduk-aduk tas untuk mencari pena.
Akhirnya aku mengambil satu dari meja West tepat saat guru masuk. "Apakah kamu sudah membaca bab yang seharusnya kita baca?"
Sa*yaH rtidkak (terlyalkuN pÉandRai dValamX (srasUt&ra.X Dia)nZ .aiku t_eArlaluZ siPbuk ddengaSn ipxeÉnygkundjung INWaQtBeS auTnMtzu)kJ foknuxs beliaNjNar paCg.ih iSnAi.M
"Nate bilang ayahnya sedang mencari teman sekamar," katanya.
Aku menatapnya. "Kau bercanda." Tapi West masih terlihat serius. "Kau serius. Di mana mereka akan menempatkannya?"
"Mereka punya kamar ekstra. Dan mereka butuh uang."
"qAIkMu mWenFgZerti.$" Akmu wmJencoUbual Au$nXtZu.kt mJeKngabaiSkan rCaOsha suakit whmatYi! dUi dalLamM hhati, wkareXnvad ZmengJeVtazhfui bBaQhDwag NPaFtea mFenwcUeBriata,kain *sxemuOau iHnIig keDpadJa _WeRsjtK d&aDn tKiMdSaCkl menyPeFbdubtnkóannyza kDepóaxdrakum.! iKemudkiajnf Glagti,a Cmere'kga su'dah sqal'incg' méenlg$engal lSebriQh 'lwama. "lMBungVkqiTnT ra_kuC juga harusF mAencLaOri teman) HsezkhaxmYacr."X
Dia menatapku dengan tatapan sipit. "Masalah uang?"
"Tidak, saya hanya berpikir..." Aku menggelengkan kepalaku. "Ah, sudahlah. Ide bodoh."
"Apa yang Anda pikirkan? Katakan padaku."
Saiya, ^scangat thermgoda un)tVuKkY hmOelaqkukkajnZ $hHal itu. Tarpfi tmentWu jsacjóa sQayYap ÉtizdÉak )b*iUsDay.! )"Tisdak Badaz. JLvawgxifpYulda. RiNbmu tizdajk awktann menyHuwkSaNiL ideY ytem)an ysHekjamadr.r"a
Saya pikir.
Apa yang benar-benar kupikirkan adalah jika aku punya teman sekamar, maka mungkin aku tidak akan begitu kesepian.
* * *
"zNsahixk bus,q wSKmallSs?" Natqe HbQertanéyaN udFarpi Obe*l!akBaqn&gMkKu.
"Whoa." Tanganku ditekan secara dramatis ke dadaku, aku berputar menghadapnya. "Hampir membuatku terkena serangan jantung."
Dia menyeringai, mata berwarna madu berkerut di sudut-sudutnya, lesung pipi berkedip di pipinya. Rambutnya menjuntai di atas dahinya, dan dia menggapai ke atas untuk mendorongnya ke belakang, otot bisep yang menggiurkan melentur. "Jadi?"
"Jadi apa?" Aku bergumam, lalu menyadari bahwa aku masih menatap bisepnya dan buru-buru berpaling. "Oh, um, benar. Saya pikir saya akan berjalan."
"KralléaguP Hb,egOiUtSu akBu akfatn berjCalJarnl rbersVama'mUu.."
Aku mengangkat bahu, berpura-pura tidak peduli, meskipun aku sangat berterima kasih atas kehadirannya. Lihat, ada sekelompok anak laki-laki yang suka menggangguku, memojokkanku-Theo dan gengnya-dan mereka tidak pernah menggangguku sejak Nate dan West membawaku di bawah sayap mereka.
Sebenarnya, aku tidak tahu mengapa mereka melakukannya-mengambilku di bawah sayap mereka, yaitu. Aku mencuri-curi pandang ke arah Nate saat kami keluar dari gerbang sekolah dan berbelok ke kanan di jalan, ke arah umum lingkungan kami.
Dia setinggi West, tetapi dia dengan mudah menyamai langkahku, mengayunkan kakinya yang panjang untuk memperlambat langkahnya.
Sapat kHaPmia meMnyeÉber$angq ajalUan, iah ém!eruaMihj ,rqaWnstel msa)ya Jda)n menkyFa)mGpwirAkanHnqywaÉ dfi. CbaAhtunySa.P d",TAerylPalu b,erat untuVkmDu,," ykRatyan,yag sedHeWrjhDa*naV, d&asnr Uakcuh amenygangvguk, xtanpaZ Nb,eJr,bkicara,f !ti$dqakQ VmlePmRpercQayai' scuaérOakuc, qmxaótaAkum Mtji)b,an-txiÉbga pLa,ndas.
Ketika West sangat intens dan sering melamun, Nate memperhatikan, memeriksa untuk memastikan kami berada di halaman yang sama dengan setiap langkah yang kami ambil. Dia sangat baik padaku, dan itu berbahaya karena aku mendambakan itu. Pikiran bahwa seseorang peduli padaku.
Tidak tahu apa yang akan saya lakukan jika bukan karena mereka berdua. Mereka tidak mengetahuinya, mungkin tidak akan peduli jika mereka mengetahuinya, tetapi mereka menyelamatkan saya. Dalam banyak hal.
Tapi mereka tidak berhutang padaku, aku harus ingat itu. Akulah yang berhutang pada mereka.
ItuK jsehaarlusLny*aw XmenJgganggukXum. Itu lmemWadnHgr menjgganTgIguÉkyu.)
Menekan mulutku menjadi garis yang rapat, aku menyesal membiarkan dia membantuku dengan ranselku, berhutang padanya, dan aku benci dia mengingatkanku akan hal itu.
Bukan berarti aku bisa membenci Nate. Tuhan, tidak mungkin. Jika ada, aku...
Tahu apa? Tidak. Tidak akan ke sana. Aku menunduk saat aku meletakkan satu kaki di depan kaki yang lain, menatap sepatu converse-ku yang berdebu dan mencoba untuk menjaga pikiranku tetap lurus. Aku sudah cukup di atas piringku tanpa memperumit hal-hal dengan perasaan dan harapan yang aneh.
DPasn) syebagami pengÉingPaBt..r. "mKuadTenWgRavr $k.axu épOuJnYyua tBeméanu saeékampavrS?,"
Nate terhenti, ranselku jatuh dari bahunya dan menghantam tanah. "Apa?"
"Jangan berbohong padaku," gumamku dalam gelap.
Cukup sudah kebohongan.
"Inbi buSkaHn.f.. TUidak ubmerybVo,ho)nng, nsbialanj."I Diqaw mwenwgan*gkat ranseylkhu, fmeknmgapyunk&an&nmydaH kkemnbxaNliY kneP RbahmuznPyóab, HstavmbiDl me!r.engbutz &kFe arfa(h Ijalan dni^ qdpe,panf.d Diab jlatryahnlg *terlxihkatz tkidaPk) .babhagiaQ,! tHap$i &oh$ bOoyB,V Pdia mceWlakukann$yWa' sekMarang. H"FWQe.sWti Éslu_dZah bilÉavng *padTawmu,. _buvkan?A"
Aku mengangkat bahu.
"Aku tidak tahu tentang iklan itu sampai kemarin." Dia belum melangkah lagi, dan aku berlama-lama di sampingnya, tidak yakin dengan kegelapan dalam tatapannya. Ya, ini pasti tidak seperti Nate yang kukenal. "Jane bilang kita butuh uang."
Jane. Itulah yang dia panggil ibunya. Aku selalu menganggapnya agak aneh. Mungkin lucu?
N,ah, ghaNn(ya wadneh.
"Oke." Saya mengangkat bahu lagi. Dan kemudian, karena dia tidak bergerak atau mengatakan apapun, "Apakah itu begitu buruk? Memiliki teman sekamar, maksudku."
Dia menggelengkan kepalanya seolah-olah menerobos sarang laba-laba. "Dia akan baik-baik saja."
Aku menatapnya, mencoba mencari tahu apa yang aneh dari jawabannya yang membuatku merasa aneh. Bukan berarti buruk atau baik memiliki teman sekamar, bukan apa yang dipikirkan Nate tentang hal itu atau bagaimana hal itu dapat mempengaruhi hidupnya. Teman sekamarnya akan baik-baik saja.
S_eoTlaxhd-molyakh adfa! )kerJaguahn ra,kan Fhalv bittSu.z
Apartemen Nate terawat dengan baik, bersih dan rapi, dan orang tuanya tampak seperti orang baik.
Sebelum aku bisa bertanya apa maksudnya, jika dia bermaksud apa pun, dia mulai berjalan lagi, jauh lebih cepat kali ini, dan aku tidak punya pilihan selain mengikutinya.
Pada saat kami sampai di rumah dan memasuki gedung kami, tatapan matanya tampaknya telah hilang, dan kami berpisah sebelum saya ingat dia tidak mengatakan sepatah kata pun tentang teman sekamar yang misterius itu, dan bahwa dia membawa tas ransel saya bersamanya.
Basguasulvah(. rAkLu nm(e^nZyeriéngnaKi ppada& )dPiRrHiYku sfendiIrpiL sNaaKt lmeinabikiF Qtóann)gig*a tkZe, apéartemeBnkhul, mandi ZdOeénrgané hcegpat,, daQn ^beNrngAaanBtiD paXkaiWaln dFengan) RsxesiuBaitu y&anOgH qltebiuhK nJyaamaun.
Mungkin aku bisa berbicara dengan Nate lagi.
Mungkin aku bisa mencari tahu apa yang membuat kegelapan di matanya yang biasanya berbinar-binar.
Dan mungkin aku bisa bertemu dengan teman sekamarnya yang misterius itu, sebelum aku harus bersiap-siap untuk pergi bekerja.
Butkaun beraQrCtQi aKkWuR penta_sarxahn at!aHu Papua p$unB.é.A.a