What time couldn't kill
1687 Words
That night neither of them slept much.
Rain continued falling softly against the apartment windows while Surabaya glowed endlessly beneath neon reflections far below. The city still moved outside — motorcycles racing through wet streets, distant music drifting upward from clubs, strangers laughing somewhere in the dark — but inside the apartment everything felt suspended in time.
Like the world had briefly stopped breathing just to let them find each other again.
Fabrizio sat on the couch with a cigarette burning slowly between his fingers while Arka leaned against the kitchen counter watching him quietly.
The silence between them no longer felt hostile.
It felt fragile.
Like both of them understood one wrong sentence could break whatever this reunion was becoming.
“You still smoke too much,” Arka muttered softly.
Fabrizio laughed weakly.
“You still judge me too much.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
Arka walked over and took the cigarette directly from his hand before taking a drag himself.
The familiarity of the gesture nearly hurt.
So many tiny habits between them survived time somehow. The way Arka stole cigarettes. The way Fabrizio automatically shifted sideways on couches to make room for him. The way silence never fully became uncomfortable between them.
Love remembered things even when people changed.
For a while neither spoke.
Then finally Arka asked quietly:
“How long have you been using needles?”
Fabrizio looked down immediately.
“A while.”
“How long?”
“Couple months.”
Arka shut his eyes briefly like the answer physically wounded him.
“Jesus…”
Fabrizio hated the disappointment in his voice.
Not because it sounded angry.
Because it sounded heartbroken.
“I tried not to,” Fabrizio whispered.
Arka looked at him instantly.
“I believe you.”
That almost made it worse.
Because Arka still saw humanity in him.
Even now.
Even after everything.
Fabrizio rubbed tired hands across his face.
“At first it was just pills.”
Arka stayed silent listening.
“I just wanted my head to stop for a while.”
The honesty came easier around Arka than anyone else. Always had.
“Then eventually nothing worked anymore.”
Rain tapped steadily against the windows while Fabrizio stared blankly toward the city lights.
“I kept thinking if I got numb enough maybe I’d stop missing you.”
The room went completely silent after that.
Arka looked away first.
Like hearing those words hurt too deeply to face directly.
“You think I didn’t miss you?” he asked quietly.
Fabrizio swallowed hard.
“You disappeared.”
“I had to.”
“You disappeared anyway.”
Arka’s jaw tightened immediately.
Then softly:
“I know.”
That sentence carried enough guilt to fill oceans.
For a long moment both of them just sat there drowning in the weight of everything that had happened between them.
Two years.
Two entire years spent destroying themselves separately while still loving each other completely.
Finally Arka stood and walked toward the window overlooking the city.
“You know what the worst part is?”
Fabrizio looked up.
“I kept thinking about the farm.”
His voice sounded distant now.
“The horses. The fields after rain. Your dad yelling at us for skipping work.” He laughed softly. “Stupid little things.”
Fabrizio’s chest tightened painfully.
“I thought about it too.”
Arka rested his forehead briefly against the cool glass.
“I used to replay those memories just to survive some nights.”
The vulnerability in his voice nearly shattered Fabrizio again.
Because for so long he imagined Arka moving on easily.
Becoming colder.
Forgetting him.
But now he understood the truth.
Arka suffered too.
Maybe just as badly.
The gang didn’t merely separate them physically.
It poisoned both their lives afterward.
Fabrizio stood slowly and walked toward him.
For a second neither moved.
Then Arka turned around and suddenly they were kissing again.
Not desperately like before.
Not frantically.
Slowly.
Sadly.
Like two people trying to remember what safety once felt like.
Fabrizio’s hands slid beneath Arka’s jacket instinctively while rain blurred the city outside.
God.
Even now.
Even after addiction and violence and years apart—
his body still recognized Arka instantly.
The kiss deepened slowly until Arka suddenly pulled away breathing unevenly.
“We can’t keep doing this.”
Fabrizio stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because look at us.”
The words hung heavily between them.
And for the first time, Fabrizio truly did look.
Really look.
At both of them.
Arka looked exhausted beneath the tattoos and scars. Fear still lived behind his eyes constantly now, even during quiet moments. His body remained tense like violence could enter the room at any second.
And Fabrizio—
he barely resembled himself anymore.
Thin.
Shaking slightly.
Track marks hidden beneath sleeves.
A face hollowed out by drugs and grief.
They looked less like lovers reunited and more like survivors crawling from separate wars.
Fabrizio stepped backward slightly.
“You regret this?”
“No.”
Arka answered too fast for that to be true.
Then quietly added:
“That’s the problem.”
The pain in his voice cut deep.
Because loving each other still felt natural.
And maybe that was exactly what scared them both now.
Arka sat back down heavily on the couch afterward and rubbed tired hands across his face.
“You should hate me.”
Fabrizio almost laughed hearing that again.
“You always say that.”
“Because you should.”
“You left to protect me.”
“And look how that turned out.”
Neither had an answer for that.
Outside, thunder rolled softly somewhere beyond the city skyline.
Fabrizio sat beside him carefully.
Close enough for warmth.
Not close enough for illusion.
“You know what I think?” Fabrizio asked quietly.
Arka looked over tiredly.
“I think we were doomed either way.”
A sad smile touched Arka’s mouth.
“Probably.”
For the first time in years, honesty existed fully between them now.
No pretending.
No hiding.
Just two damaged people finally speaking openly inside the ruins of their lives.
Arka eventually leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes.
“They made me do things.”
The sentence came quietly.
Carefully.
Fabrizio immediately went still.
“What things?”
Arka laughed bitterly.
“You don’t wanna know.”
“Yes I do.”
“No,” Arka whispered. “You really don’t.”
Fear moved through Fabrizio immediately.
Not fear of Arka.
Fear for him.
Because suddenly he realized how much pain still remained buried beneath the surface.
Arka opened his eyes again slowly.
“When you owe violent people money, they don’t just ask politely.”
Fabrizio’s stomach twisted.
“They beat you?”
“Sometimes.”
The casualness of the answer felt horrifying.
Arka stared blankly toward the rain-streaked windows.
“Sometimes worse.”
Fabrizio looked away immediately because rage flooded through him so fast it became difficult breathing around it.
He wanted names.
Faces.
Someone to blame physically.
But years had already passed. The damage already lived inside Arka permanently now.
“You should’ve let me help you,” Fabrizio whispered painfully.
Arka smiled sadly at that.
“You couldn’t even save yourself.”
The truth of it landed brutally.
Fabrizio looked down at his trembling hands.
“You know what’s funny?”
“What?”
“I used to think losing you was the thing that ruined me.”
Arka stayed quiet.
“But honestly?” Fabrizio laughed weakly. “I think watching myself become this ruined me worse.”
Arka looked at him carefully then.
And for the first time that night, anger flickered briefly across his face.
“You think you’re the only one who changed?”
“No.”
“You think I wanted any of this?”
“I know you didn’t.”
“Do you?” Arka snapped suddenly. “Because sometimes it feels like you only remember the version of me from the fields.”
The room fell silent immediately afterward.
Arka stood abruptly and walked toward the kitchen frustrated.
Fabrizio watched him quietly.
Because deep down he knew Arka was right.
Part of him had frozen Arka in memory permanently — the laughing boy beneath sunsets, cigarettes between his fingers, dreams bigger than fear.
But life had kept happening after that.
Violence happened.
Trauma happened.
And maybe Fabrizio wasn’t the only one haunted by who they used to be.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
Arka stayed silent for several seconds.
Then eventually whispered:
“I miss him too.”
That sentence broke something open between them again.
Not the version of each other standing here now.
The younger versions.
The innocent versions.
The boys who still believed love and freedom could save them somehow.
Fabrizio walked slowly toward him.
This time when he touched Arka, neither kissed immediately.
They simply held each other quietly in the dim apartment kitchen while rain whispered against windows.
And somehow that intimacy felt deeper than anything else.
Around three in the morning, Arka finally convinced Fabrizio to sleep.
The apartment only had one bed.
That realization created awkward silence for exactly five seconds before both laughed softly at themselves.
After everything they’d survived together, pretending distance now felt ridiculous.
They lay beside each other quietly in darkness while thunder rolled softly outside.
For a while neither spoke.
Then Arka suddenly whispered:
“You still twitch in your sleep?”
Fabrizio blinked in surprise.
“You remember that?”
“You always twitched right before nightmares.”
Emotion clogged painfully in Fabrizio’s throat.
Because nobody else in the world knew tiny things like that about him.
Nobody else ever would.
“You still grind your teeth when stressed,” Fabrizio whispered back.
Arka laughed quietly.
“Guess some things survive.”
Silence settled warmly afterward.
Not empty silence.
Safe silence.
And for the first time in years, Fabrizio fell asleep beside someone who knew every broken part of him already—
and stayed anyway.
- Writer
