“weird, but fuckin’ beautiful.” taylor swift (ft. lana del rey) — snow on the beach

https://open.spotify.com/track/6ADDIJxxqzM9LMpm78yzQG?si=-2QqX8zXRQe_XtlUjNyXEg

The traffic is still mad as hell when Antares’ car jumps in the bandwagon. He’s driving tonight, and his calm demeanor when he drives is something I could never comprehend. Calm and Jakarta’s traffic never come hand in hand; but here he is, my still water.

“How was the meeting? Is it for the exhibition?” I try to break the ice and the knot inside my mind. He turns on the speaker, and Sleeping at Last’s song starts to play. “Yup, that was the event organizer for the opening day.” He looks at me for a moment before he steers his focus back on the road in front of him. “It’s on April 27, would you like to come?”

I beam at him. “Of course. I’ll clear my whole day.”

He smiles upon hearing my answer. “Thank you, little miss.”

Silence lingers; so much that I can hear my own heartbeat, drumming like it’s nearing the apocalypse. I’m still processing whatever Bara said on our group chat—and then I started to pay attention to how Miles behaved when Antares was around.

He was… quiet. He wasn’t as cheerful as usual, I thought it was because he had to go through mad traffic to reach the cafe—but I guess not, since he was smiling widely when he entered the place. He didn’t drink his coffee until it’s cold, and he didn’t talk to me when I said goodbye. He looked away as I entered Antares’ car and when I looked again, he’s gone.

Was it true? The mutual pining thing? Then why he did everything he did—dating different girls, acting as if my feelings were never real? Why did he ask me to marry him as the last option?

“I can see a lot of bubbles above your head.”

I come back to earth from my tangled clouds, and I smile weakly at him. “I do have a lot of thoughts.”

“Care to share some?”

“Right now I feel like I’m in the weirdest place on earth, somehow.”

“Jakarta’s traffic?”

I laugh at his innocent remarks. “No, not literally. I mean, my state of heart.”

“And why is that? Is that a bad thing?”

This is a habit of his: he will ask multiple questions in a manner that somehow never bothers me—because he always asks them in such tone that assures me that it’s laced with care. He cares, he doesn’t do curious. Later I realize, those questions really do wonders in detangling my knotty thoughts. As if… he knows how to handle me, and he makes sure that he will do it gently, with no pretension.

“I… don’t know? Actually, can I be honest with you?”

“You can always be honest with me. You know that I never judge people.”

That, too. He never judges me and all of my actions. He always has full faith in the food I choose for him. He lives like how king lives, yet somehow I never feel small next to him.