#mierul aiman

[freeeggbailiffcash]

Across the universe

“Dalam hayat lain,” he whispered, “Dalam setiap hayat lain, aku janji aku cari kau…”

He clenched his eyes tight, the promise echoing in the credences of his soul as he breathes out, “Aku cari kau, and aku pilih kau.”

 In all timelines, in all possibilities... Only you.

(5 times different versions of them meet and the one time Fakhri and Kahar stayed together)

----------------------------------------------------

(PREVIEW)

"Kalau macam tu, saya up bayaran laa bang."

Naufal internally winced at how dirty that sounded, but it couldn't be helped. He was just in the midst of turning his life around, after all. 

A fresh start. A clean slate. 

He had convinced his parents that he was finally mentally stable enough to live on his own—though that stability still came with a fixed allowance from them—and this rental house was the best choice within his budget.

If only he wasn’t competing for it with the nuisance sitting next to him.

His scowl deepened as he glanced at Ejoi, who was sprawled on the couch like he had all the time in the world, a stupid smirk playing at his lips. 

The red bandana was still tied around his wrist, faded and frayed at the edges, like a relic from a past he refused to let go of. 

Some people really never change, Naufal thought ruefully.

The landlord, a guy in his late thirties named Iman, winced at Naufal’s offer before shaking his head.

"Sorry ah dik, abang tak boleh suka-suka hati naik harga. Tapi memang susah sikit ni nak pilih. Adik dua-dua orang memang datang serentak."

A snort came from beside him.

Naufal turned to glare at Ejoi, who looked way too relaxed about this. Like he already had the upper hand. Like he knew how to get what he wanted.

And that irked him more than anything.

Ejoi flashes a lazy grin as he leans back against the sofa, his gaze sliding to the right.

Naufal remains poised, legs crossed with deceptive ease, his smile as polished as ever. The very picture of a perfect gentleman—calm, composed, and utterly untouchable.

But Ejoi knows better.

There’s a sharp glint in Naufal’s eyes, betraying the cool façade. If looks could kill, Ejoi would already be drenched in tea rather than watching Naufal sip it with forced indifference.

He studies him for a moment. Naufal’s features are sharper now, his cheekbones more defined, his face carrying the angles of a man who has left his boyhood behind. 

His bangs, once unruly, are neatly trimmed, revealing those sharp, calculating eyes. The messy black locks no longer graze his ears, yet something about him remains unchanged. 

The navy-blue suit and crisp white-collared shirt exude the same authority and superiority as the faded prefect uniform he used to wear back in school.

Naufal looks every inch the formidable CEO—or had he gone into law instead? Sesuai gak dengan dia, Ejoi thinks. 

It’s almost fascinating how he conceals his cutthroat nature behind the disarming charisma of a model in a men's perfume ad.

Ejoi suppresses a snicker. Of all the ways he imagined running into Naufal again, house-hunting was not one of them.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

Hiding a smirk, he drawls, “Apa kata kau yang undur diri dulu, abe KP? Kasihani lah aku rakyat marhaen ni.”

Naufal’s eyes flick to him briefly—because of course, he would run into Ejoi while searching for a new place to live. 

When had fate ever not played sadistic tricks on him? 

With a nonchalant air, he replies, “Kau salah orang ni nak mintak kesian. Aku budak bisnes tau, mestilah aku pilih situasi yang paling untungkan aku.”

He raises a brow, offering a pleasant smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

His voice is smooth, his tone condescending. “Kau tu? Kalau setakat nak duduk sini untuk ber-hoo ha, suka ria, menghabiskan beras, tak payah la buang masa orang.”

Ejoi grins, the teasing lilt in his voice making Naufal’s eye twitch ever so slightly. “Adoii, betul la orang cakap… manusia ni memang ngelat betul nak berubah. Kau still sama je, poyo macam dulu.”

Man, it’s so easy to rile Naufal up. Ejoi wonders how long he can keep this going before Naufal storms out. Five minutes? Ten?

“Kata periuk belanga hitam. Lama sangat ke kau tak tatap cermin?” Naufal intones dryly, lifting his cup. The taste of Vico is too cheap for his liking. 

He should just leave. This house isn’t worth haggling over—especially not with Ejoi.

Dealing with Ejoi is like stepping on gum, irritating as it follows you everywhere dragging more and more filth.

Naufal’s gaze flicks to him. Despite the unbuttoned white collared shirt under a black V-neck sweater and the matching dark belted slacks lending Ejoi a sense of casual professionalism, the laidback confidence he exudes is the real defining factor.

But beneath that easygoing exterior, Ejoi is still the same—taller, perhaps, with longer curls and sharper features, but that infuriatingly mischievous glint in his brown eyes remains unchanged.

All that reckless chaos wrapped up in a veneer of careless innocence.

For someone shrewd enough to keep up with him, Ejoi is frustratingly flippant. Carefree. Unbothered.

In short, he’s still Ejoi, and seeing him again only dredges up memories Naufal would rather leave buried.

He suppresses a frown. He should go. Surely he could find another acceptable place. He had other friends, didn’t he?

Ejoi tilts his head, catching the subtle shift in Naufal’s expression. That pinched look? Oh, he’s already close to leaving. Maybe ten minutes was too generous an estimate.

Smirking, Ejoi leans in slightly and quips, “Asal? Aku tahu la aku hensem. Awet muda lagi lak tu. Aku rasa aku la manusia paling hensem pernah aku jumpa.”

Or, Naufal considers, he could just kill Ejoi.

A perfectly viable option, really. Sure, the landlord was sitting across from them, but he’d spent months maneuvering out of worse situations. 

He could definitely come up with a way to shut Ejoi up.

Preferably forever.

He eyes the teacup in his hand. A spoon, too. Not the most conventional murder weapons, but not impossible.

“Adik, dua-dua orang belajar kat universiti sama kan?” The man interrupted again, a reminder to both Naufal and Ajoi that they weren’t alone there.

Naufal frowned, not at all liking the way thei–his landlord smiled nervously.

The landlord clears his throat, tapping his phone screen a few times before looking back up at them with a hesitant smile.

"Actually, ada satu benda abang nak beritahu." He glances between them. "Sebelum ni, ada satu je bilik kosong, tapi tadi abang baru dapat mesej. Sorang calon penyewa dah tarik diri." 

Both Naufal and Ejoi tensed a bit at that.

He pauses for effect. "Jadi, sekarang ada dua bilik kosong. Adik berdua boleh tinggal di sini laa—jadi housemate."

Naufal stiffens.

Housemate? Dengan Ejoi?

Four to five months—trapped under the same roof with this insufferable man child?

He almost blurts out his refusal, fully prepared to walk away and find another place, when Ejoi suddenly leans in, voice low and conspiratorial.

"Apa kata kita bet?"

Naufal frowns, but before he can demand an explanation, the landlord’s phone buzzes, and the man excuses himself, stepping aside to take the call.

Ejoi wastes no time. Smirking, he murmurs, “Apa kata kita duduk sini, tapi siapa tak tahan dulu kena bayar untuk dua-dua bilik?”

Naufal's scowl deepens.

This idiot.

His first instinct is to shut Ejoi down immediately, but then he hesitates. He casts a glance around the house, considering his options. 

If he played his cards right, he could get Ejoi to drop out, leaving him with the place and a roommate of his choosing. 

Besides, knowing Ejoi, he probably didn’t even have enough money for rent in the first place.

He’s still mulling over his choices when Ejoi suddenly shifts, hopping onto the couch right next to him and slinging an arm around his shoulder.

“Asal?” Ejoi drawls, tilting his head with that infuriating smirk. “Takut ke tu, Nopel?”

Naufal grits his teeth.

That damn nickname.

He’s always hated it.

So, out of sheer pettiness, he grits out, “Okay. Fine. Aku on.”

[hatikitty]

Sesat 🌳🌲🏕️

Prompt: Kahar and Fakhri getting lost during a hike

Kahar never wanted to go on this stupid trip. Like why would he spend a perfectly good weekend sleeping in a tent with 4 other males and surrounded by wilderness? It makes zero sense.

Alas, after persistent pestering from Hakeem, Zahrin and Fahmi, he folded. They joined KUDRAT’s annual camping trip to Ulu Yam.

Somehow, like every other thing in his life these past months, nothing ever goes as planned and thats why now, he had gotten lost in the wilderness with the one person he loathed the most.

“Woi, cepat la, lembab ah kau ni”

Fakhri roared as he, once again, stopped to wait for his senior.

“Kau laju-laju ni kau sure ke tu arah yang betul” Fuck, Kahar cannot show Fakhri how out of breath he is, they’ve only started about 1 hour ago. (And somehow got separated from their group within that hour)

“Aku tahu la, tadi instructor cakap jalan keluar ke north, kalau matahari naik dari east, maksudnya north ke sini la” Fakhri explained further but honestly all Kahar could hear was “bla bla bla im fakhri so smart bla bla bla”

So annoying.

“Dah la, banyak cakap lak, cepat” Kahar quickened his pace to pass the younger boy,

walking to where he assumed was his north.

In his haste and tired state he didnt realise the root slightly jutting out of the ground, his feet caught upon it and –THUD

Pain flooded him as he hear Fakhri’s laugh fill the air.

Can his luck get any worse?

After sobering up from laughter, Fakhri asked “Sakit tak?”

“Sakit la, soalan bodoh apa tu” The only thing that was bruised was his ego. Sitting up and dusting the dirt of himself, Kahar let out a big sigh.

“Bagus” Fakhri teased earning a side eye from the senior.

Despite that, he held out his hand, offering it to Kahar.

“Lain kali, hati-hati.”

Nursing his bruised ego, he slapped Fakhri’s hand away, earning another laugh from the younger boy.

—

They’ve been walking for hours and it seems like they’re going in circles. The day has gotten darker and dark clouds had slowly cover the sky.

Kahar jumped when he heard a thunder strike “Nate sungguh”

Fakhri stopped in his tracks, gaze switching from the startled Kahar and the darken sky. He sighed “Hari nak hujan, kita cari tempat berteduh dulu”

Though he doesnt really care for Kahar but the obvious discomfort on the other boy’s face pulled on his heartstrings.

Kahar didnt reply, just nodded tiredly as Fakhri lead the way.

To their luck, they found a small cave, just big enough to for them to take cover from the rain.

“Kau tunggu sini jap, aku nak kutip kayu sebelum hujan” Fakhri instructed.

“Eh, takkan aku tinggal sini kot. Aku ikut” Kahar protested. He took a look around the small cavern. It was dark. Dirty. Possibly filled with creepy crawlies.

Nope. No way he’s staying there alone.

“Pehal? Takut ke?” A teasing smile crept up Fakhri’s face.

“Siot. Mana ada. Aku cuma nak tolong je” Flustered that Fakhri could see through him so easily, Kahar turned away.

Fakhri let out a small laugh but let the conversation end there, more interested in the task at hand.

They did their task in silence, grabbing as many dried sticks and leaves as they can and only going back to the cave when the first drop of rain touched their skin.

Going back to the cave, they settled down, lumping their pile at one place.

“So, kau ada bawak lighter ke nak start api?” Kahar asked, eyeing around the cave. It was getting darker by each passing minute and dread grew inside.

“Tak jantan la guna lighter. Tengok ni” Fakhri took two decent sized sticks, putting one on the ground while the holding the other in his hand. Then he proceeded to pile up dead and dry leaves around the stick that was on the ground. “Bismillah” he recited as he put the stick in between his two palms and started twisting it against the other.

Kahar watched, unconvinced, as Fakhri kept on rubbing the two sticks together.

It took a few minutes, but just as Kahar was about to turn away, he saw sparks.

Fakhri took the dried leaves and put it on the embers, blowing on them softly. Soon enough, a small fire started. A smug smile formed as he turned to Kahar. “Amacam? Power en?”

Kahar scoffed, but he cant deny that it was impressive. Who knew the young brash short tempered Fakhri was quite skilled in survival. “Mana kau belajar?”

“Dulu aku selalu la gi camping ngan bapak aku. Dia ajar aku ni. Tak sangk pulak berguna.”

Fakhri sighed, exhausted from the walk along with the constant movements just now. He sat on the ground, slowly nursing the small fire.

Kahar was still crouching, not eager to sit down on the dirty cave floor.

Quietly, he took off his small back pack, pulling out a water bottle. There was still more than half in there.

“Nah, minum.” He passed to Fakhri.

A small grateful smile was all the reply Kahar got as Fakhri drank from his bottle.

Kahar couldnt helped but stare.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe he was truly impressed on how Fakhri had been acting these past few hours. Whatever it was, it’s making Kahar’s chest tight.

Fakhri raised his eyebrows as he realised Kahar’s eyes never left him.

“Kau okay?”

His voice was soft, unlike the many times they interacted.

It wasnt helping the feeling in Kahar’s chest.

“Aku risau. Aku penat. Aku tak suka camping. Aku nak balik” Kahar blurted out. Instead of focusing on the strange emotions Fakhri was causing, he shifted towards how uncomfortable this situation was overall.

Kahar was looking ahead now, out into the pouring rain.

Fakhri didnt reply. Kahar sighed again.

Damn, why does he feel so vulnerable all of a sudden.

He heard Fakhri moving and before he knew what was going on, he felt Fakhri’s presence next to him. Close. Their shoulders just barely touching.

“Jangan risau. Mesti diorang cari kitanya.”

—

The rain continued to pour, and the two of them stuck to their spot. Still sitting close to each other.

“Kau masih benci aku ke?” Fakhri asked out of the blue, snapping Kahar out of his thoughts.

Hate Fakhri? For what? The high council fiasco?

“Benci tu, teruk sangat kot. Aku tak benci pun kau. Cuma, takde sebab aku nak berbaik ngan kau” he explained.

Yeah, they weren’t in the same circle of friends. They only knew each other for a short time and in a few months, Kahar would graduate.

No, it wasnt hate anymore. Just indifference.

But sitting in a cave with Fakhri, Kahar has a feeling that something will change.

“Bagus la. Sebab kalau kau benci aku, aku sedih.” This made Kahar turned his head completely to face Fakhri.

He expected to see another annoying smile on his face but instead, Fakhri was genuine.

He let out a sigh before continuing “Aku rasa bersalah atas apa yang terjadi antara kita. Yeah, aku benci high council but kau pun mangsa keadaan. Ngan bapak kau lagi.”

Kahar flinched at the mention of his dad.

“Aku mintak maaf, Kahar.” This time Fakhri put a hand on Kahar’s shoulder. It was light, filled with hesitation.

“Takpe, benda dah lepas.” Kahar shook it off, the tight feeling in his chest was coming back.

“Kahar,” Fakhri spoke again, but nothing followed.

They were staring straight at each other now. Faces dimly illuminated by the fire behind them. Despite the loud sound of rain and the forest, Kahar can only focus on Fakhri.

His eyes followed Fakhri’s adam’s apple as he swallowed his own saliva.

“Fuck this,” Fakhri said but mostly to himself before diving straight into a kiss.

Kahar stilled. His brain not sure how to react to such unfamiliar feelings.

Fakhri’s lips. Fakhri’s hands now both on his neck. Fakhri’s heat and the smell of his cologne mixed with his sweat.

This was all too much, but Kahar welcomed it. He kissed back.

They continued to make out for a while before breaking apart.

“Dah lama ke kau pendam tu?” Kahar asked, earning a chuckle from Fakhri.

“Yeah, sejak kita manifesto. Aku rasa kau handsome”

Kahar gave Fakhri a playful shove, not knowing how to react to such cheesy admission.

“Geli ah” he said beaming. The tightness in his chest had bloom and exploded into thousand of butterflies.

“Acah la geli. Kau baru cium aku tadi” Fakhri shot back. “So, uh, nak sambung sampai hujan berhenti?”

Fakhri was such a cheeky piece of shit.

——

A/N: Thank you for reading!! Im planning to post more short drabbles likes this if i find more cute prompts. If you guys have any request, send em my way!!

Also this is cross posted on AO3 under the same username.

[adymasaklemak]

[superdryalienthing]

The soft expressions of Fakhri

Very pinch-able

( ,,◕ ̫ ◕,, )

[freeeggbailiffcash]

[Traditional dancer!Fakhri x Pahlawan andak! Kahar in historical drama play, Part 2 I guess?]

(Gonna clarify that the bigger pic drawn there is Fakhri based on mierul aiman's andra from AAM....prolly will try to draw Andak Kahar later)

Fakhri let out a long, soul-weary sigh as he stared at the wrinkled, coffee-stained script in his hands.

What the actual hell were they doing?

A drama play. A historical love story. In an all-boys school.

“Apehal tak buat je drama play gaduh?” he muttered under his breath. That’d be more realistic. Just make everyone re-enact their last Manifesto match and call it a day.

But no. That would defeat the whole point of this being a punishment for the Manifesto in the first place.

Fakhri groaned again and dropped the script into his lap.

And of course, out of all the damn roles, he just had to get the female love interest.

“Dahlah aku dapat role pompuan, sial doh,” he grumbled, head tilting back in existential agony.

A heavy slap landed on his back.

“Haaa apa khabar Primadona kita?” came Ayam’s annoyingly chipper voice.

Fakhri sent him a flat, soul-dead glare. “Tak lawak laa, Yam. Aku ni punya laa sado, kena jadi Primadona lak.”

Ayam scoffed. “Eh hello? Kau stuck in 14th century ke? Toxic masculinity dah out ehhh. Jangan laa kau tersekat di takuk yang lama.”

Fakhri snorted despite himself.

He didn’t like being lumped into that category—that kind of thinking. Not when he’d seen what it did. Not when Mama left Papa for being “too soft.”

That memory clenched something in his chest. He quickly brushed it away.

Then Ayam leaned in with a too-casual tone that immediately raised alarms.

“Tapi kannn... apa kau nak buat pasal Kahar?”

Fakhri frowned, pulled from his thoughts. “Apa pulak?”

Ayam rolled his eyes and jabbed at Fakhri’s shoulder—not gently.

“Iye laa. Teruk gak Kahar bantai kau haritu. Tuu,” he pointed at a faint bruise near Fakhri’s collarbone, “ade lagi bekas lebam tu.”

Fakhri scowled, instinctively touching the sore spot.

He exhaled, annoyed. “Nak buat camne lagi… cikgu-cikgu semua tengah alert. Takdenye aku nak cari pasal der—aku kena stay sini sampai SPM.” He said the last part louder, firmly, as if declaring it to himself more than anyone else. He had promised Papa. No more trouble.

Ayam pouted and plopped onto the seat next to him, silent for a moment. Then, just as Fakhri let his guard down, he grinned.

The kind of grin that spelled bad news.

Fakhri narrowed his eyes. “Apehal kau sengih cam kerang busuk ni?”

Ayam leaned in, voice low with villain energy. “Aku ade idea…”

Fakhri raised an eyebrow, already regretting asking.

Ayam paused—dramatic, theatrical. Then:

“Apa kata… kau… seduce Kahar?”

Fakhri choked. “KAU GILA KE, YAM?!”

Ayam groaned when Fakhri immediately jerked away. “Dengarlah duluuuu!”

“Takde kerja buat kerja ke kau ni—”

“Duduk dulu. Diam.” Ayam yanked him back down and, like a magician, pulled out a compact mirror from his bag.

“Ni laaa masalahnya dengan kau,” he said, tsking. “Otak tu pikir gaduh je kan… tak sedar yang kau ada aset lain.”

Fakhri stared at him like he’d grown two heads. “Kau jangan nak jadi bapak ayam eh nak jual aku bagai…” This was was definitely not what he signed up for when he accepted the offer for Kudrat.

Agak-agaknya gugur jantung papa kot dapat tahu aku kene joget bagai.

But before he could say more, Ayam lightly slapped both his cheeks. “Kau tu kot berdandan sikit, mekap sikit—konfirm ramai kot yang cair. Silap-silap, satu sekolah eh, kau takluk.”

Fakhri opened his mouth to protest, but his words died when he saw his reflection in the mirror—dark eyes lined slightly, cheekbones sharp, lips still tinted from the gloss Ayam applied “just to try je wehh.”

And suddenly… he didn’t look so much like himself. He looked like something else.

Fakhri hesitated. Shit. Did he really have a jambu face all along?

--------------------------------------

The lights were warm. The gamelan echoed.

Fakhri stepped onto the stage with calculated elegance, every inch of his posture perfected. He was skeptical about doing the dance at first.

But the movements weren't that bad—the president of the Kebudayaan Ckub said he was a natural at it.

To be fair, the Tari Inai moves did resemble some of the silat moves Fakhri used to practiced before he move away to Pahang.

He wore the selendang loose, his movements laced with intentional grace.

And when he began the dance—fluid, hypnotic, grounded in the softness of traditional Malay dance and the undercurrent of silat—it felt like something shifted in the air.

The hall went still.

Even Kahar stopped mid-step, eyes locked.

Fakhri twirled, fingers trailing like wind over water, and dipped low, his eyes rising just in time to meet Kahar’s—slow, deliberate, and unreadable.

And in that moment… he smiled.

A challenge.

A weapon.

A performance.

Fakhri — 1; Kahar — 0

-------------------

The dorm room was quiet. Suspiciously quiet.

Too quiet.

Kahar glanced up from where he sat sprawled on his mattress, only to find Zahrin, Hakeem, and Fahmi staring at him. Judging. Breathing like NPCs. Unblinking.

"...Apa?" he finally barked, annoyed.

The three exchanged glances again, and Zahrin, ever the agent of chaos, finally spoke, "Sooo..."

Kahar instantly bit the inside of his cheek. He knew where this was going.

Zahrin leaned forward slightly, tone suspiciously gentle. “Kau... blushing tadi. Sebab Fakhri.”

Kahar stiffened. “Bende sial kau merepek ni,” he snapped, already bristling.

Fahmi raised both hands in surrender. “Lek laa dulu... takde orang judge kau.”

"Aku. Tak. Blushing," Kahar growled, each word cutting through the room like a blade.

Hakeem, unbothered, grinned, “Tapi muka kau merah woo tadi. Pastu siap berkanda-dinda bagai...”

Kahar opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again like a dying ikan keli. Finally, he scowled and kicked at the floor. “Dah ahh, tak payah merepek kat sini.”

Zahrin, ever helpful, added, “Rilek laa Kahar. Aku rasa ramai je blushing sikit tadi...”

Kahar squinted. "Siapa lagi?"

Zahrin only grinned wider. “Asalkan kau tak stim tengok dia dah ahh... kitorang tak judge.”

At that exact moment, Kahar decided he hated all three of them. Deeply. Sincerely. From the pit of his blackened, insulted soul.

He was considering filing for transfer to another school when Hakeem suddenly said, “Tapi ennn…”

The dramatics in his voice were enough to make all three of them lean in.

“Tapi apa?!” Kahar barked.

Hakeem grinned sheepishly. “Aku ada dengar laa... macam Ayam dengan Fakhri memang plan benda ni doh.”

“Plan?” Fahmi echoed. “Drama tu kan Puan Faniza punya idea?”

Hakeem shook his head, eyes wide with conspiracy. “Bukan tu. Maksud aku... Ayam pakat mekap Fakhri macam tu sebab diorang nak takluk sekolah. Guna godaan.”

Kahar blinked. “Apa sial kau ni…”

“Ikut logik,” Hakeem pressed, excited now. “Ni Projek High Council yang baru. Fakhri nak jatuhkan semua orang, bukan dengan penumbuk... dengan lenggok dia.”

Kahar rolled his eyes so hard he nearly saw god—but then...

Then he remembered that moment.

When the music ended, the crowd breathless. When Fakhri turned ever so slightly, fanning himself and tilting his head with a smirk only he could see.

“Jadi? Apakah tarian ini cukup elok buat menghibur hati kekanda?”

“Atau haruskah adinda menari lagi, hingga kekanda benar-benar rebah oleh lenggok adinda?”

Kahar’s breath had caught in his throat.

Now it was rage. Fire. A challenge.

Two can play at that game.

–---------------

The rehearsal was chaos as usual. Naim, Amirr and Black were preparing for their dramatic confrontation with the "King"—Hakeem in a makeshift crown that was falling apart at the seams.

Kahar, however, had one mission.

He scanned the hall, eyes sharp. And there—by the changing rooms. Alone. Fakhri, lips pursed in focus, was repeating a series of delicate steps. His arms moved like silk, fan fluttering, the afternoon light catching against the glitter near his cheekbone.

Perfect.

Kahar grabbed a small roll of tape—closest thing to a ball he could find—and rolled it across the floor.

Fakhri, predictably absorbed, stepped right into its path.

“A—shit—”

He stumbled forward, arms flailing—

Kahar was already there. One hand at Fakhri’s waist, steadying him easily, the other catching the edge of his sleeve.

Fakhri jerked back. “Apa benda kau buat ni, setan?”

Kahar smirked, leaning in. “Menyelamatkan bidadari dari jatuh tersungkur?”

Fakhri looked seconds away from throttling him.

“Dah lah,” he hissed. “Aku takde masa untuk game kau hari ni.”

“Oh, tapi aku ada, sayang.”

Before Fakhri could unleash verbal murder, a voice rang out—

“OHH! Fakhri dengan Kahar dah start practice next part ke?” Puan Faniza sounded utterly delighted. “Okaylaa... meh saya tengok!”

Both boys froze.

Fakhri turned slowly to glare at Kahar, his voice barely a whisper. “Kau jangan macam-macam ehh setan—kot tak sumpah aku bunuh kau nanti—"

Kahar only grinned wider, lowering his voice to a purr.

“Jadi... adinda nak menari lagi ke? Atau kekanda pulak yang patut balas?”

------------------

Fakhri didn’t sign up for this.

Well, he kind of did. But he didn’t sign up for this specifically.

He knew that he was playing with fire from the get-go, but to be fair Ayam can be fucking damn convincing when he wanted to.

And he fucking hated the manic glint in Kahar's eyes—the same one from the first time Kahar caught him using his phone without a license.

Fakhri had shit fucking luck, didn't he?

“Alright! So technically this scene didn't made the final cut, but I think I wsnt to take another look at it. This was inspired by the Puteri Gunung Ledang and Hang Tuah moment, keep the chemistry, yeah—Kahar and Fakhri, are you ready?”

Kahar blinked. “Apa benda?”

Fakhri narrowed his eyes. “...Hah?”

But Puan Faniza was already on the move, unfurling an old projector screen and shoving a stack of paper into their hands. “Kita akan ikut skrip asal saya, tapi blocking dia saya nak you all interpret. Tengok movement antara Puteri dengan Tuah tu. Flow.”

Flow, she said.

Ten minutes later, Kahar had both his palms on Fakhri’s waist as they tried to copy the slow, swirling footwork of the scene.

Fakhri looked seconds away from committing murder.

“Kalau kau letak tangan kau kat pinggang aku lagi sekali, aku patahkan jari kau,” Fakhri hissed, lips curled in a smile that would fool a blind goat. “Kekanda ku sayang,” his voice dripping with venom, "kekanda dah lama sangat hidup ke, kanda?"

Kahar leaned closer, voice low and smug. “Hidup kanda rasenya baru punya erti lepas kanda menemui dinda~”

“Gi mampus dengan erti kau, setan.”

“Kau nak Puan Faniza dengar ke, dinda?”

Fakhri’s jaw clenched.

They moved in tandem—Kahar stepping behind Fakhri, one hand ghosting over the dip of his back, the other following the arc of Fakhri’s raised arm with the fan.

“Beautiful!” Puan Faniza cried. “YES! THAT’S IT! The forbidden tension!”

Fakhri muttered, “Forbidden memang. Kau ni haram jadah untuk kesihatan mental aku.”

“Shhh, usah marah, dinda…” Kahar whispered into his ear. “bukan niat kekanda menyamakan dinda dengan khayalan, cuma… belum pernah kekanda melihat jelmaan bidadari turun menari di bumi, hingga lupa kekanda ini pejuang, bukan penyair.”

Kahar grinned as he delivered his line, the smugness radiating when he saw how the tip of Fakhri' ears turned red.

“SETAN, KAU JANGAN SAMPAI AKU CUCUK BIJIK MATA KAU DENGAN KIPAS NI.”

And still, they danced.

At one point, Fakhri spun, his shoulder brushing Kahar’s chest—and Kahar, smug as ever, took the opportunity to subtly tighten his hold at Fakhri’s hip, guiding him into the next movement.

“Kahar. Tangan. Kau.”

“Ade dalam skrip laa, bodoh.” He gestured to the annotated margin. ‘Tuah bercengkerama dengan Puteri Gunung Ledang”

“Tuah boleh pergi mampus.”

By the end of the dance, they were both slightly breathless—not from the choreography, but from how hard they were trying to one-up each other while pretending not to flirt in front of an adult.

As they bowed to a clapping Puan Faniza, both boys locked eyes briefly.

Fakhri – 1 ; Kahar – 1

Game on.

[freeeggbailiffcash]

[Just revisited an old fic—i love making cameos of Mierul Aiman's chaotic friendship in his other dramas]

"So, aku tak faham kau."

Fakhri blinked, caught off guard as he realized he’d been busted doodling in his notebook, surrounded by pamphlets for various universities. He almost felt embarrassed—but not enough to stop.

He wasn’t about to admit he cared. He worked way too hard to maintain the image of a delinquent bad boy, perfectly contrasting Naim’s pristine, prefect persona.

"Nak buat camne, aku kan memang lain daripada yang lain," he replied with mock solemnity, making no effort to hide the stolen college brochures scattered across the table. "Terima je laa aku seadanya."

The boy across from him, the quintessential rich nepo baby, grimaced.

It was the reaction Fakhri always seemed to draw out of people—a pained look that needed no words to express its depth. He relished moments like this.

Because Fakhri was an artist. A connoisseur. Someone with a hypothetical Master’s degree in Asshole-ry and “How to Piss Everyone off in less than five minutes.” For him, this was an art form.

"Takde laa," the other guy pressed on, surprisingly bold, given that he was facing Fakhri’s infamous blank expression—the one that could unnerve just about anyone.

"Aku ingat Naim yang perfectionist pasal bende ni. Tak sangka lak kau kisah gak."

"Hmmm," Fakhri hummed, nonchalantly flipping through one of the pamphlets, clearly uninterested in explaining himself further.

If it was within the country–the top three UM, UKM and UPM seemed to be the obvious choice. Easier to build connections, get scholarships.

UniKL would be hella dope though–imagine having Awie or M. Nasir performing during their graduation. But Fakhri’s unsure how much scholarship can be applied there–maybe he needed a cabel.

That’s where he comes in.

Fakhri grins at the other boy in front of him, failing miserably to hide his hidden agenda.

Predictably, the other boy took a step back, clearly dubious and miffed at Fakhri’s extremely blinding good looks.

He frowns.

“Aku baru perasan kau ade tahi lalat doh.”

"Aku roommate dengan Naim kat KMNS setahun? Kau datang bilik Naim setiap hari kot." the boy asked, a bit desperately now, because he so clearly didn't understand why Fakhri was staring at him in almost wonder.

"Huh… before ni tak perasan… tahi lalat kau kecik sangat."

He staggered a little.

"Tahi lalat aku tepi mulut aku tau."

Fakhri gave him a cold smile. The kind that communicated, 'Kau nampak macam aku kisah ke setan–aku dah cukup masalah hidup dah'. The other boy began to look just a little bit desperate.

“Kau ni, nama aku pon kau tak ingat kan senanye?”

“Ehh salah ke?” Fakhri looked genuinely surprised, “selama ni aku panggil kau Jah–

"Fakhri!" sang out a new voice. "Ehh hanat, kau gi mana sial aku tunggu kau berjam-jam."

"Ni sorang lagi," Jaha added, spooked, and then escaped out the door by ducking around the new body.

"Hilang can aku nak masuk unikl pakai kabel," Fakhri concluded happily.

Hatim, the boy from Fakhri accidentally befriended while he was part timing as food rider, his current closest friend aka partner in crime who swears they’ll either go to prison either for embezzlement or kidnapping, grinned wide and bright and a little maniacal and boosted himself up to sit cross-legged on Fakhri’s desk.

"Sejak bila kau rapat dengan anak-anak dato’ weyh," he pointed out. "Bukan perangai kau cam setan ke?"

"Aku manusia paling baik yang aku kenal laa babi."

"Kau tak kenal ramai orang," Hatim said with a seasoned nod. He pulled out a phone and shoved it into Fakhri’s face, fully believing that Fakhri has the eyesight of a blind bat.

“Aku dah jumpa dah tempat yang kau mintak aku cari haritu.”

"Laju kau buat kerja–kot bos kau boleh nampak kau sekarang, confirm dia bangga enn."

“Aku memang MVP babi.”

“Bukan last week dia tangkap kau nak curi kete dia ke?”

"GTA sial" Hatim retorted, and grinned at his phone like it was his first-born child. "Aku borak dengan Makcik Senah, pastu dia gossip kat aku pasal skandal baru cikgu janda tuu, pastu kitorang terserempak Abang long kawasan, rupanya dia rapat dengan geng-geng UFC.”

“UFC?” Fakhri parroted hesitantly. 

In spite of Naim’s reservations about his friendship with Hatim–who knows the undercity like the back of his hands– Fakhri, in actuality, has yet to make a name there. 

He’s still waiting on the off chance that he doesn’t have to go to uni before he makes a debut into the underworld.

"Abang long yang jaga kawasan ni memang sayang club UFC dia. Tapi diorang lagi sayang aku," Hatim agreed cheerfully. 

"Itu laa kau, masuk sekolah pandai tapi bodoh. Tahu bende mainstream je, cuba la masuk dengan yang underground. Kau ni tak in laa–”

"Tiimm.. Kau…kau sama macam someone aku kenal laa."

Hatim tilted his head a little, mouth caught in his ever-present grin, looking ready to cause trouble, always.

"Ye ke? Siapa?"

“Az–Ayam. Kawan aku.”

[freeeggbailiffcash]

Fanfic Plot Ramble Dump #1

(I haven't been writing at all sebab for 5 weeks now I have accidentally acquire a child (not like how Mierul aiman did in Babysita) but in tge way that my sis and her husband are out on business thus leaving me as caretaker of their infant (i kinda feel like a single mom lol) but my mind has been stumped on the plot fics for PHC wip

#Wastelands continuation

The Wastelands fic are set in an A/B/O universe where Kahar and Fakhri pick up back from they had a brutal situationship break up *cough* Kahar got dumped *cough*

And here both of em are Alphas (im not gonna comment more on how their sexual excapades gonna progress coz where's the fun in that lol)

The overall theme here might be more about drama and political, since this story is set in ABO as well as in university, I was gonna play on many aspects and elements, like Kahar's ongoing struggle with his father's legacy, Reza's mysterious hiatus from the Abu Yamin family, Naim's questionable absence for the majority of the story and Fakhri's secret reasons in why he choses to run fro student council for his campus elections.

Here, I want to delve a lot on student protest movements as well as flawed/corrupt education system on a systemic level so i wanted to include some real life examples like Penyata Razak or Laporan Rahman Talib.

Disclaimer:-

Im not that much of a talented writer who can educate my readers on a foreign subject they may not know.

Yes, in my previous fics, I did include some stuffs from like Sulalatus Salatin-historical dialogues etc or the Malay cultural elements like the dances or customs but most of it are just on a base level and not in depth. I do encourage my readers if they would like to read up more on those subjects by dropping some of the links of sources I used.

So here, my mind is kinda in a dilemma because I want to include corruption, racial profiling and gender discrimination in this fic because for me PHC also did brush on those elements in their series so here, the subject woulld be more in depth because Kahar and Fakhri are now in univerisities so they're young adults with a hunger to change their future and fate.

Fakhri in the series isn't really a goody two shoes white knight. So, he's kinda self-serving and temperemental but at its core what he hates more is people being pushed around (case in point: ikhsan and his dad) and assholes who monopolizes power (in the series Kahar, but in this fic might be another antagonists)

Meanwhile Kahar is kinda more shifts with the flow? Bukan nak cakap Kahar ni lalang laaa but he strikes me as someone who would choose his belief based on who his current ally is?

For this fic, I kinda have a general idea of its progress cumanya i want to work out some details first like if Penyata Razak and Laporan Rahman Talib is really that relevant in today's educational system (or at least on the 2011 timeline sebab the story kinda sets off 4 or 5 years after Kudrat give or take.

I also wanted to include elements on gansterisms (im currently working on comparison cases of gangsterism in Cape Town and i kinda wanted to do one regarding the Southeast Asia case studies)

Aaaaaannndddd the harder parts of this fic is the ABO elements sebab I, really not sure on how the anatomy works as well as how I want to balance out all my characters dynamics (still fighting myself on whether i wanted to put Ayam, Jay and Prakash in it lol)

[hatikitty]

Dumb ways to die

drink everytime you see a tiktok related to amir ahnaf/mierul aiman/aedy ashraf in my saved tiktok collections. 🥃🥃

Youd be dead in 10 minutes 🥳🥳

[hatikitty]

I feel like a creep bc i see most PHC writers are so much younger than me 😭

Like sometimes i question myself about writing PHC fics cuz theyre HS kids but at the same time the actors arent.

Starting today im age-ing up Kahar n Fakhri bc realize i was writing about kids 🤮🤢 (siapa suruh pilih mierul aiman, and like aedy is 30 years old 🤪)