Chapter 1 Rain at the Bus Stop

The Jakarta sky wasn't just leaking; it was collapsing. In a matter of seconds, the gray asphalt transformed into a muddy river reflecting the dim streetlights. Fierce winds battered everything, including two guys who were now scrambling helter-skelter for cover.

"Damn it, Ka! Run! This is insane, it's a full-blown storm!" Bima yelled, his voice nearly swallowed by the rumble of thunder.

Arka didn't answer. His hand gripped Bima's wrist, pulling the guy with a strong yank so their strides would match. Arka didn't care that his shoes were soaked or his t-shirt clung tightly to his body. His only focus was one thing: getting Bima to dry ground.

They dove under the tin roof of a narrow, old bus stop. It was no more than two square meters. The remaining space was already eaten up by puddles that splashed every time a car sped past.

"Damn it, it's freezing!" Bima shivered. He slicked his wet hair back, revealing his usually cheerful face now deathly pale.

Arka immediately took the outermost position, his back to the wind. His taller frame was intentionally used as a human shield to protect Bima. Without expression, his hand automatically wiped the residual rainwater from Bima's cheek.

"What did I tell you? Bring an umbrella," Arka's voice was deep and low.

"How was I supposed to know it would be this heavy, Ka? It was super clear earlier this evening, wasn't it?" Bima looked up, grinning widely even though his teeth were chattering. He always had a way of diffusing the tension with his irritating yet sweet smile.

Arka didn't return the grin. Instead, he pulled Bima closer to the dry wall of the bus stop. The space suddenly shrank. The musty smell of rain mixed with Arka's strong masculine cologne, creating an atmosphere that suddenly felt stifling for Bima.

The gap between them was now practically nonexistent.

Their chests brushed against each other with their still erratic breaths. The soaking wet t-shirt no longer functioned as clothing, but rather like a second skin, transferring Arka's body heat directly to Bima.

"Cold, Bim?" Arka asked softly.

Bima looked up, his eyes meeting Arka's dark irises, usually as cold as ice, but now glinting strangely. "A little. But it's fine, it'll die down soon... I think."

WHOOSH!

A container truck sped past frantically, plowing through the puddle in front of the bus stop. Water a meter high slammed into them. Arka reacted like lightning. He wrapped his arm around Bima's waist, reversing their positions in one dominant movement, allowing his own back to take the brunt of the remaining splash.

"Shhh, quiet," Arka whispered right into Bima's ear as the guy was about to protest.

Bima froze rigid. His face was buried in the crook of Arka's neck. In this position, amidst the roar of the storm, Bima heard something else entirely.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It wasn't his own heartbeat. It was Arka's heart thudding hard against his chest—fast, strong, and irregular.

"Ka... your heart..." Bima whispered hoarsely.

Arka didn't loosen his embrace. Instead, his grip on Bima's waist tightened, as if afraid Bima would vanish if he loosened it even an inch. Arka's other hand rose, stroking the nape of Bima's neck with his thumb—a gesture too possessive for mere friends.

"What about my heart?" Arka challenged, his voice sounding dangerous.

Bima dared to look into those eyes. "You... your heart's pounding?"

Arka lowered his head. His breath felt warm against Bima's lips, which were starting to turn blue. Instead of answering, Arka pressed Bima's body even tighter against the concrete wall of the bus stop.

"I don't like you being cold," Arka said with emphasis. "I don't like you getting soaked because of your own carelessness."

"I'm used to it, Ka. You're being so dramatic, honestly," Bima retorted, trying to laugh to cover the strange pounding in his chest.

But Arka wasn't in the mood for jokes. He gripped Bima's chin, forcing the guy to lock eyes with him. "I'm not kidding, Bim. Never stray far from me when the sky is like this. Or anytime at all."

There was an overflowing intensity in Arka's eyes. It wasn't just protection; there was a huge secret held back there.

"Why are you being so intense, Ka?" Bima asked softly.

Arka brought his lips close to Bima's ear, whispering words that made Bima's hair stand on end. "Because you're the center of everyone's attention, Bim. All eyes are on you. But only I know what storm is coming to attack you. Only I can stand in front of you."

Bima swallowed hard. Arka's words sounded like a concrete warning, not just a metaphor.

"Promise me," Arka urged.

"Promise what?"

"Never seek protection from anyone else. Only me."

Bima was hypnotized by Arka's dominance. He could only nod slowly. "Okay, Ka. I promise."

Before the tension could escalate further, Bima's phone vibrated violently in his pants pocket. The name 'Radit' appeared on the screen. Bima answered with trembling hands.

"Hey! Where are you two?" Radit's shrill voice immediately broke the silence. "Wandering around in a storm like this! Get back here! I ordered martabak, it's gonna get cold!"

Bima let out a small laugh, feeling rescued from the confusing situation. "Yeah, you're being so loud! I'm stuck at the bus stop in front of campus with Arka. We'll be back soon."

"Oh, come on, you're probably just flirting with Arka at the bus stop. Remember, that's public property, don't get up to anything!" Radit chuckled then hung up.

Bima put his phone back. "Radit was asking about us."

"I don't care about Radit," Arka replied flatly. He looked towards the street. The rain began to subside into a light drizzle. "Let's go back."

Arka took off his varsity jacket, the inside of which was still dry, then draped it over Bima's shoulders. All the way to the dorm, Arka made sure Bima's body was fully sheltered by his arm, while their hands were tightly clasped inside the jacket pocket.

As soon as they arrived in front of Bima's dorm room, the atmosphere returned to silence. The dorm corridor felt cold.

"Starting today, rain or not, you're my responsibility, Bim," Arka stated definitively, gazing deeply at Bima before turning towards his own room at the end of the corridor.

Bima sighed, touching his chest which was still pounding. He opened the dark door to his dorm room, intending to shower right away. However, when he turned on the room light, his steps suddenly froze.

On his neatly made bed, a large brown envelope with no sender's name lay casually.

With still-cold hands, Bima tore open the envelope. Inside were several photographs—pictures of himself taken secretly from a distance. And on the last sheet, there was a photo of Arka staring sharply at the camera, taken precisely today, just a few hours ago.

On the back of Arka's photo, there was handwriting in blood-red ink:

Don't trust the person pretending to protect you. He's the reason the storm is coming.

Bima's phone suddenly chimed. A message from an unknown number came in:

[Ask Arka what he did five years ago.]