In the Quiet Hours

In the bustling hallways of their high school, Johan, a loner by circumstance, slouched against his locker, lost in thought. His solitude was interrupted by Razak, an outgoing student with a bright smile, who approached him with a casual question.

"Need company?" Razak asked, his voice cutting through the noise of students hurrying to their next class.

Johan blinked, surprised by the offer. "Uh, sure," he mumbled, unsure why someone as popular as Razak would even notice him.

From that simple exchange, a deep and enduring bond was formed. Over shared lunches and long conversations, their friendship grew. Razak's easy-going laughter always seemed to ease Johan's nerves, especially on days when doubts about his future crept in.

"I don't know if I can really make it as an actor," Johan confessed one afternoon, picking at his food. "Feels like a crazy dream."

Razak leaned back in his chair, his confidence unwavering. "You're talented, man. You just need to believe in yourself as much as I do."

Johan glanced at his friend, grateful for his support. Razak's faith in him became a beacon during his darkest times, helping him navigate the uncertain days of chasing his acting career.

As Johan's career in the entertainment industry flourished, his face appearing on billboards and his name mentioned in magazines, Razak couldn't help but feel a shift. In the glittering world of fame, Razak, once Johan's unwavering support, began to feel like a shadow, out of place.

During one of their rare meetings, Razak fidgeted as they sat together in a café. The conversation was light, but something heavy lingered in the air.

"You've really made it, man," Razak said with a half-smile, though his eyes seemed distant. "Everyone's talking about you now."

Johan grinned, oblivious to the tension. "Couldn't have done it without you, Razak. You know that."

But Razak's thoughts were elsewhere. The weight of Johan's new world—full of glittering social circles and strangers who saw nothing but the surface—began to press down on him. He felt out of place, like an outsider in his own friend's life. The casual judgment from people who didn't understand their bond gnawed at him more than he'd admit.

"Yeah..." Razak's voice trailed off as he glanced down at his drink. His smile faltered. "Maybe it's time you fly solo." The words were quiet, almost swallowed by the noise of the café, and Johan barely caught them.

Johan frowned, sensing something was off. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, but Razak was already rising from his seat, his movements quick and almost mechanical, as if he'd rehearsed this moment.

"I've got a busy day tomorrow," Razak said, avoiding Johan's eyes. His words felt rushed, forced. Before Johan could press him further, Razak had already slipped out the door, leaving only a lingering sense of confusion in his wake.

Johan stared after him, feeling the distance that had slowly grown between them over the past few months, now more tangible than ever. He couldn't shake the feeling that something important had just been left unsaid.

In the days that followed, Razak pulled back even more. He avoided Johan's calls, his texts went unanswered, and soon, he was gone—no explanation, no real goodbye. Razak believed his absence would make things easier for Johan, protecting him from the prying eyes of the media and the questions he dreaded. After all, how could someone like him, just a regular guy, fit into a world of flashing cameras and red carpets?

At first, Johan hadn't noticed Razak's gradual withdrawal. The silence, stretched over weeks, seemed like the usual ebb and flow of life—until it became too long. Concern gnawed at him. Messages went unanswered, calls unreturned. Something wasn't right.