BoBoiBoy's inner voice

Chapter 4

“It’s been two years, and you're still not smiling, are you?”

The voice rang through the dimly lit room, bouncing off the cold metal walls. BoBoiBoy didn't turn around. He stood at the large window overlooking the quiet night sky, hands clasped behind his back. The stars twinkled in the distance, but they held no warmth for him.

“Smiling doesn’t win wars,” BoBoiBoy replied, his voice as cold as the void of space. His red eyes reflected in the glass, distant and unfeeling.

Fang stepped closer, the familiar whoosh of his long coat brushing the floor. He studied his friend—or at least, the boy he used to call his friend. The years had changed him. Gone were the playful quips and bright eyes that used to light up even the darkest of situations. The boy who had once radiated warmth now stood frozen, his posture rigid, his expression unreadable.

“BoBoiBoy, you’ve changed. You’ve changed more than I thought you would,” Fang murmured, his voice softer this time.

BoBoiBoy finally turned, meeting Fang's eyes, but there was no recognition of their shared past in his gaze—only a cold, calculating look that belonged to a soldier. His uniform was darker now, a deep red, a reflection of the fire he once wielded with joy but now burned with cold determination.

“Change is necessary,” BoBoiBoy said, crossing his arms. “Weakness was the old me. There’s no room for that now.”

Fang’s brow furrowed. He hadn’t seen this side of BoBoiBoy, not like this. He wanted to reach out, say something to bring back the friend he used to know. But even standing this close, it felt like there was a chasm between them, one too wide to cross.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” Fang said cautiously. “You don’t have to push everyone away.”

BoBoiBoy’s eyes flashed for a moment, but then the coldness returned. “I already am alone, Fang. Whether I push people away or not, it doesn't change anything.”

Silence stretched between them.

Fang sighed, frustration seeping into his voice. “I know you’re angry. I know they messed up. But they’re your friends—Yaya, Gopal, Ying—they care about you. You don’t have to stay angry forever.”

BoBoiBoy’s lips curled into a faint smile, but it was one filled with bitterness. “Care? If they cared, they wouldn’t have forgotten me in the first place.”

Fang’s heart sank. The BoBoiBoy he remembered would have forgiven easily, would have given them the benefit of the doubt. But this version, this cold, distant captain who stood before him, wasn’t the boy he once knew. He had been hurt, deeply, and now, the walls around him were too high to break through.

“They’re going to reach out eventually,” Fang warned. “They’ll realize their mistake.”

BoBoiBoy’s gaze hardened. “Let them. They’ll find nothing but an empty shell. The BoBoiBoy they knew is gone.”

Fang didn’t have a response. The weight of BoBoiBoy’s words hung heavy in the air, thick and suffocating. He had hoped this confrontation would soften him, even just a little. But the person standing in front of him wasn’t the same friend from two years ago. He was colder, sharper, as if time had chiseled away every piece of warmth he once held onto.

BoBoiBoy turned back to the window, signaling the end of the conversation. “I’ve made my choice, Fang. Don’t try to change it.”

Fang hesitated for a moment, wanting to say something, anything, to break through to the person he used to know. But there were no words left to say. BoBoiBoy had already built his walls too high, and it was clear he had no intention of letting anyone in.

With a sigh, Fang turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the long, empty hallway. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure if he could reach his friend. Maybe, just maybe, BoBoiBoy was right.

Maybe the boy they once knew really was gone!