Make It Right

CHAPTER 8

He sat on his bed all day for the past three days.

He watched the sky outside, sometimes it was sunny in the morning, and then it was raining in the evening. Today, the sky was cloudy and the grey clouds were starting to hide what was left of the sunlight.

He had not eaten anything except for when Bank had to force feed him, and making a mess of his bed sheet in the end. He had not taken his shower, except for when Bank had to drag his ass into the shower and poured a pail of cold water above his head. Still, he would got up and walked back to his bed not bothering to dry his body and continue to stare outside. He had not sleeping either, except when he unintentionally fell asleep before he woke up with a start and continue to stare outside again.

He heard Bank got himself into his house, he had not bother to lock the door anymore. He heard Bank moving around the house before the door to his room was pushed open.

"P?" Bank called out to him softly.

"Have you wake up yet?" He asked as he stepped into the room and saw Singto sitting on his bed, the same position since days ago. He sighed as he took a seat next to him on the bed.

"P, today is the burial ceremony." He heard Bank said.

He let the silence filled the room for a few minutes before he replied, "okay."

"They don't want to do the post mortem."

"Okay."

"But the initial diagnose stated that the cause of death was internal bleeding."

"Okay."

"They said that the first collison might have broken his ribs and the second one made the broken piece pierced right through his heart."

Singto paused for a moment, his fingers that played with the blankets on his lap tightened into a grip before he replied with a shaky voice, "...okay."

They both fell silent before he felt Bank moved on the bed, and pulled his arm to turn his body towards him. He looked at the younger, face void of emotions.

"P, tell me what I should do. Tell me what I should do for you to stop being like this. Tell me, P. Please, I can't stand seeing you like this. Please I beg you-" Bank stopped as he broke down in tears in front of him. His sob filled the silent room.

Singto just watched the younger cried before he said softly. "I just want to go home." Bank looked up at him as Singto repeated his words, a single tear fell down his cheek.

"I just want to go home." And he started to cry as he kept repeating the words over and over again. "I want to go home. I want to go home. Please let me go home. I want to go home. I want to go home. Bank, please help me. I want to go home." He wailed like a child, his feet kicking on the blanket as if throwing a tantrum as his cries got louder and louder. "I want to go home! I don't want to stay here, I want to go home. I want to go home to Krist. Bank, I want to go home! Please help me." Singto had now throw away his pride as he cried and bawled like a little child, his feet keep kicking on the blanket making a mess of his own bed.

"I'm sorry, P. I don't know, I don't know how to. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Bank hugged him as they both cried to their heart content, as just the sky outside also poured out its tears.

That night, Singto curled himself on the bed enveloped by the blanket. He didn't go to Krist's funeral, and none of his relatives and friends call to ask about him. It's a good thing though, for he didn't feel like talking or seeing anyone. Maybe they understood him and tried giving him space.