Syahir was always the third wheel, the in-between of most arguments, but no matter what he’s still the best friend who knows the both of them inside out. For nearly four years he put up with it, but he finally admitted they were not good for each other and their differences only make it all worse. He thought Hanis will never be as mature as Zhafran and Zhafran’s shallowness will never help him understand Hanis. They were raised so differently and have gone through their own pain. Their expectations for the relationship will turn out separately too, if not now then years down the road.
Well, that’s what Syahir says. Zhafran is convinced he doesn’t know anything. Syahir hasn’t been in a single relationship his whole life, so what does he know? Sometimes contrasts between two people are what make them work the best together. Where Hanis is angry, Zhafran is patient and calm; where Zhafran is monochromatic, Hanis is colour. Just like how he is falling asleep on this bus while she stares out the window like she’s never seen the world before.
Hanis is a flame, with her never-ending hope. Zhafran is wind, for his ability to calm people down when they’re angry. He is the gust in her hair and the storm whose eye she calls home. They keep each other under wraps and for that, they deem their souls intertwined. Again, what does Syahir know? He has never loved anyone, never found something that gets him riled up the way a passion or lover would. While he has fire and storm as his best friends, he will always merely be the last tree in the field.
It is the last thing Zhafran thinks of before he falls asleep, with his head lolling back against the headrest and his girlfriend looking out the window.
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