clamber.

1.

Ahok sat on the corner of his bed, with his back on the wall, and his face illuminated by the radiance of the moon that made its way to his room through the slightly parted curtains. The lights were out, but he wasn't bothered to turn them on. Little whimpers escaped from his mouth no matter how hard he tried to hold them in, and in the dark room with the ticking of the clock being one of the only 2 sounds present, it was audible enough to echo throughout the room but not enough to be heard by the other residents outside. Not that he'd care if it did, anyway.

He never thought the possibility of this ever existed, but it was real; bound to the certainty of the universe. His one true friend; his whole world, and at the same time his very essence, a driving force that kept every nerve and every fiber working, had just left him. How would he ever expect anything like this to happen? It never occurred to him. Or was it that he just never felt the need to think about the future?

Was he, deep down, scared of what might be?

No, he thought to himself. Jokowi wasn't the kind of person who would just arbitrarily dump someone as significant as him. He was his partner. Someone he trusted the most, be it about the most trivial things like the outfit he should wear or something as important as new regulations that would further improve the development of the city. A dark corner in his mind, though, as tiny as it was, overwhelmed his arguments, blanketing him in doubts about their relationship. What if Jokowi never saw him in that kind of light? What if he was just another pawn of him, only seeing him fit as a subordinate and nothing more? What if...

A sudden coughing fit halted his train of thought, making him grip his shirt as he gasped for air. He felt stinging in his lungs, and the saliva that escaped from his mouth only made the already messy bed he was on in an even worse situation. He was repulsed. Repulsed at the sight of his saliva-covered bed. Repulsed at the sight of his reflection in the mirror across him, his wrinkled shirt seemingly unable to hide the protruded ribs and bones. At his tear-stained face, any sign of glee washed away from the same face that he would put a smile on, every time Jokowi was with him. He was repulsed that it even crossed his mind that Jokowi would even think of such a vile thing.

His heart was laden thick with emotion, and his mind was a mess. All he could think of was the inevitable protest of the masses, purging what's left of his ability to control his emotion in front of the press, as they shout and spread their anti-Chinese agenda in an attempt to weaken his position. He knew that Jokowi wasn't in any position to defend him, but the knowledge didn't stop the ringing in his mind, the same sentence repeating over and over again, unable to lose its meaning for what felt like an eternity.

"Saya tekankan, sekali lagi ini juga perlu rakyat tahu (saya) tidak akan melindungi saudara Basuki Tjahaja Purnama karena sudah masuk pada proses hukum."

Maybe this is it, he thought. This is the end of his career and, moreover, his ties with Jokowi. His one and only Jokowi. He furrowed his brows and ruffled his hair as he attempted to rid of all memories of Jokowi. The gestures he specially made just between the two of them, the warmness he felt radiating through Jokowi's smile, the everything that composed all aspects he loved about Jokowi. His throat started choking out what he swore would be his last shrieks caused by memories of Jokowi, half-heartedly solidifying his intention on forgetting him for good. And as he readied himself for a future devoid of his dearest friend, he came to a realization.

That the worst part of a broken heart is being unable to remember how you felt.

And he was prepared for it.