#amirr

amirr / naim fic sempena raya ! sebab mabuk lagu meriah lain macam, inilah jadinya 😭

(eng narration, bm dialogue!)

Naim stepped into the apartment he shared with Amirr, expecting to see his dearest boyfriend all dressed up for Raya. They had plans to visit Naim’s parents first, since Amirr’s wouldn’t arrive until late evening.

His steps were calculated and soft, afraid that he’d catch his Amirr focused getting ready. Naim hesitated to open the door, his hand a few inches away from the doorknob before he slowly turned it, the door opening to reveal Amirr only in his inner singlet and pants of his Baju Melayu. “Eh. Tak siap lagi?”

Amirr immediately felt his body tense and warm up once Naim’s soft voice registered in his ears. He shook his head, pressing his lips in a small smile.

“Belum. I…tadi asyik jawab mesej from adik you.” Amirr mumbled his words, his hands brushing through his hair before leaning down to grab his top.

Naim furrowed his brows. “Lah. Asal Fakhri duk mesej you?” Amirr slid into his top, the rich maroon matching with Naim’s dark blue.

“Dia sibuk tanya bila kita nak datang rumah dia.”

Naim looked at Amirr, his eyes exploring and admiring the view presented to him. He loved how cute and handsome Amirr looked, especially in traditional clothes; it really made Amirr’s beauty shine even brighter.

Naim’s lips unconsciously spread into a smile, his eyes sparkling as they met Amirr’s. “Cantik gila you pakai baju. Serious,” he stepped closer to Amirr, his body leaned forward as their noses touched. Amirr melted into Naim’s touch, their bodies pieced together perfectly like puzzle pieces. The heat emanating from Amirr’s golden tan skin and Naim’s gentle breathing made the atmosphere calm, gentle and comfortable.

It felt like an eternity until Naim pulled back, his hand rested on the sides of his boyfriend’s arms. He gave Amirr a soft peck on the nape of his neck before letting go, allowing Amirr to grab his samping and slide it on. While that happened, Naim watched from the other corner of the room, mesmerised by how quickly and neatly he wrapped the fabric around his waist. Holy shit.

Amirr fixed the buttons on his top, before putting on sunscreen. He usually wouldn’t wear makeup, but on this day he did. Even the way he applied the skin tint made Naim go crazy. Amirr went for a simple look—skin tint, a little brush of his brows and lip balm.

Makeup in Amirr’s eyes was literally just skin tint, brow mascara and lip balm. He did have a makeup bag, but that was only on the days he would try out crazy and experimental makeup. But, for events he’d just go for a barely noticeable look. He looked at himself in the mirror, before grabbing his phone and wallet.

“Sayang. Jom, visit Fakhri.” Amirr pulled Naim’s hand, dragging him out of the apartment and down to the car. Naim hopped in the driver’s, and as usual, Amirr was in his designated passenger seat.

Naim’s fingers tapped along to the beat of the CD Amirr put on, as they drove through the streets leading to where Fakhri stayed with Naim’s dad. It didn’t take long until they reached, Fakhri stood in place at an empty parking space; a bright, wide smile formed on his face.

***

Knowing Amirr, he loved everything Nutella, and chocolates in general. He had the entire container of tarts in his hands, while he was watching the classic P. Ramlee movie playing on TV. It was as if his hands were on autopilot; endlessly shoving a tart in his mouth without noticing.

“Sayang, mulut comotlah,” Naim hummed, chuckling as he grabbed tissues from the box opposite them and wiped the hazelnutty mess around Amirr’s cute, thin lips.

Amirr whined, pouting playfully. “Awaaaaak!” His voice took on almost a child-like annoyance, playfully turning his body away from Naim.

“Mirr, Nutella tu all over your face. Nanti semut gigit kang.”

Amirr clicked his tongue, huffing before turning around to face Naim. “Fiiiine.”

The container in Amirr’s hand was nearly empty. There was probably around five pieces of the tarts left, and Naim knew that if Fakhri saw it…a war would erupt. He sighed.

“Dah. Enough tarts for you, ‘kay? Nanti sakit tekak.” Naim took the container away, passing a cup of water to Amirr.

Of course, Mr. Nutella would pout again, sulking. “Alaaaah…” Naim chuckled, ruffling his boyfriend’s hair.

“Kat rumah kan ada banyak kuih inti Nutella I buat. Tarts, tapak kuda, biskut. Tu you tak makan pulak?”

Amirr giggled. “Itulah kuih istimewa. I need to treasure it. Sebab tu I makan sikit-sikit.”

Naim’s heart fluttered as he heard Amirr’s words. The fact that he would always say it; he would eat anything Naim baked sparingly so it showed how much he appreciated the effort and love Naim put in his treats. Amirr’s eyes twinkled in the soft light of the florescent lamp in the living room, the little wrinkles next to his eyes when he smiled drove Naim crazy. Astaga...budak ni. Buat aku naik gila. Nasib sayang.

For a while, during their drive back home, they sat in a calming, comfortable silence. Amirr got to bring home a little container of extra Nutella tarts that Naim's dad hid from Fakhri (thank God) and it simply stayed in his arms, cradled. Amirr seriously treasures anything Nutella like it was a living thing, which to Naim was the most adorable Amirr habit.

Finally homed, changed into their cutesy matching pajamas while watching random Korean variety shows (that Naim swears he definitely didn't save on the computer) and of course Amirr was snacking on Nutella tarts.

Naim didn't have his eyes on the screen, but rather on the sight of his boyfriend eating the tarts next to him. A warmness showered over him, as his heart fluttered and his lips curled into a smile. He leaned to snuggle into the nape of Amirr's neck, taking in his sweet vanilla scent.

"I love you, Amirrtella." Naim muttered, kissing Amirr's skin.

Amirr snorted, before erupting in a laughter so loud he slammed the computer closed. "And I love you too, my sweet Naim."

hope you guys enjoy!!!!!!!!!! can u tell amirr/naim is my favourite </3

Amirr sat hunched over on the closed lid of the toilet seat, arms wrapped tightly around his midsection as though he could hold himself together that way. The stall was cramped, the pale fluorescent light flickering above him, casting sickly shadows across the dirty tiles. The air smelled faintly of bleach and something older, fouler, like mildew and rot that never quite went away.

His breath came out in shallow, ragged bursts, each exhale accompanied by a tremor that started in his chest and spread through his fingers. Tears blurred his vision, hot and fast, slipping down his cheeks before he could even try to wipe them away. His face felt too warm, too tight. His mouth was dry, but the back of his throat burned as if something bitter and old had risen from the depths of his stomach to choke him.

He had trusted Naim. That was the part that made everything worse.

He had trusted him.

He hadn’t even meant to talk about it at first but when Naim had asked him if there was something he was hiding, all the words, the past had spilled out his mouth like word vomit. It felt as if he was reliving the moment when he saw the Form 2 with Ariz. He had seen himself in the kid because he too, had been in that position—too scared to say anything, too scared to do anything. The words had spilled out of him like a dam finally cracking open. He had told Naim everything, or almost everything. Enough.

And now those words were thrown back at him like acid.

“Kau baru kena main dua, tiga kali, so sekarang ni kau dah jadi gay?”

“Kau dah ada taste dah dengan aku?”

Amirr squeezed his eyes shut, a strangled noise escaping his throat. The humiliation made his skin crawl. His hands clenched into fists in his lap, nails digging into his palms. He wanted to scream, to tear something apart, but all he could do was sit there and shake.

It was like he could still hear Naim throwing it out like a curse—sharp, insulting, as if he knew that was the one thing he knew that could hurt Amirr more than anything else. He could feel the cruelty behind it. Something that sliced through Amirr like a rusted blade. Naim had looked him in the eye when he said it, like he knew exactly where to aim.

He felt sick.

His stomach twisted violently, and a wave of nausea hit him so hard he barely had time to move. He lurched forward, flipping the toilet lid up just in time before bile and half-digested dinner spewed out of his mouth in hot, choking bursts. The sound of it hitting the bowl echoed harshly in the tiled space. He gagged again, emptying himself until there was nothing left but acid and saliva, tears now streaming freely down his flushed cheeks.

His whole body shuddered. He stayed leaning over the toilet, panting, hands braced on the seat. The cold porcelain against his skin grounded him just enough to not spiral completely.

But the words wouldn’t leave him.

They tangled in his mind with other, older ones—the ones he tried so hard to bury.

“Alah, Mirr. Kita anak jantan, kita ni bernafsu.”

Adly Syahrul bin Azam.

Form 5.

He had been in awe of him back then. Adly had been charismatic, older, confident in ways that made Amirr feel small and safe. At first.

But that wasn’t safety.

He remembered the first time Adly had touched him, how he hadn’t known what to do. How it had felt wrong but also like he didn’t have a choice. Adly had told him they were just exploring. That it wasn’t a big deal. That it was normal for boys to have urges. He’d said it in that voice, the voice that was so calm, so certain. So easy to believe.

But it had never felt normal.

And the second time, when Amirr had said he didn’t want to, had cried and begged and tried to pull away, Adly had just smiled, pulled him closer. He hadn’t listened.

He never listened.

“Saya tak nak… Tolong, Abang Adly… Sayatak nak dah…”

The memory felt like a knife being twisted deep in his chest. He squeezed his arms tighter around himself, rocking slightly, desperate to shut it out. His sobs came softer now, but they still shook him to his core, like his whole body was rejecting the truth.

He felt dirty.

Tainted.

Like no amount of scrubbing could ever make him clean again.

He wondered, bitterly, if Naim had seen that part of him, if somehow he had sensed the rot buried under Amirr’s skin and decided to poke at it, to find some sort of twisted joke in it. To make it worse. To make himself feel better.

And it worked.

God, it worked.

Because now, even in this grimy bathroom stall, Amirr felt like he didn’t deserve to exist anywhere else. Like maybe this was the only place that matched what he felt inside—claustrophobic, stained, forgotten.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, trembling. His throat ached, his stomach hollow, but it didn’t matter. Nothing felt real anymore. Only the weight of his memories pressing down on him like a hand that never let go.

And all he could do was sit there.

Alone.

Breaking.

Quietly, painfully, again.

Minutes passed. Or maybe it was hours. Time had melted into something slow and unbearable, stretching endlessly as Amirr sat hunched over on the cold, cracked tiles of the bathroom floor. The fluorescent light above buzzed in and out, blinking like a dying star, casting sharp flickers of white across his skin.

He didn’t care.

His body had stopped shaking, but it was only because he had nothing left in him to tremble with. His limbs were numb. His throat burned. His tear ducts ached. But still, tears streamed down, silent and stubborn, tracing the path of a grief too heavy for his sixteen year old body to carry.

His forehead rested against his drawn-up knees, and his arms hugged himself as if to stop his soul from spilling out entirely.

The taste of vomit still clung to the back of his tongue, bitter and cloying, making every breath a reminder of just how disgusting he felt.

Adly’s phantom touch still clung to him.

It was under his skin, behind his ribs, curled in the hollow spaces of his bones. He could still feel those rough hands, the weight of a body too large for his own, the scratchy fabric of a school blazer pressed against his cheek as he had begged, his voice cracking, small, and unheard.

"Mirr, kita bernafsu. Kalau kekang lama-lama, bahaya."

He wanted to tear those words out of his skull. Wanted to claw them from his ears, from his memory. But they lingered, sticky and insistent, whispering the lie he had been taught to believe: that he had wanted it. That it was just boys being boys. That it was his fault.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but that only made it worse. Behind his lids, memories flared brighter. The way Adly had smiled when Amirr cried. The way he had shushed him, lips brushing his temple like it was some kind of comfort. The way it all twisted into something that made Amirr feel like less than human.

His chest spasmed with another dry sob. No sound escaped him now, just the stuttering of breath through cracked lips and a body pulled too tight with shame.

He had told Naim.

He had told Naim because…God, he didn’t even know why. Maybe because Naim had smiled at him once like he was just Amirr, not someone broken. Maybe because Naim had joked with him during chemistry and passed him notes in class and shared kuih during recess like it meant something. Maybe because, for the first time in a long time, Amirr felt like someone might see him and not look away.

And yes, yes. He liked him.

He liked Naim.

He liked him.

But Naim didn’t know that… right?

Did he?

Amirr’s thoughts spiraled into panic, the air catching in his lungs again. His fingernails scratched absentmindedly at the fabric of his school pants, and then harder, as if scraping deep enough could erase the truth—or at least distract from it.

What if he knew?

The nausea swelled again, thick and dizzying.

What if that’s why he said it?

“Kau baru kena main dua, tiga kali, so sekarang ni kau dah jadi gay?”

“Kau dah ada taste dah dengan aku?”

He gagged again, this time dry. There was nothing left to throw up. Just bile and shame, churned into something ugly inside him.

He gripped the base of the toilet bowl with both hands, forehead pressing into the cool porcelain. His breathing grew louder, sharper, he was hyperventilating now. The edges of his vision blurred.

It hurt.

Everything hurt.

Not just his body, not just the dull ache in his stomach or the rawness of his throat—but something deeper. Something that lived in his chest and pulsed with every memory, every word spat at him, every silence that followed.

He didn’t want to go back to the dorm room.

He couldn’t.

He didn’t want to see Naim. Didn’t want to see his face twisted in confusion or, worse, disgust. Didn’t want to see Naim look at him and know.

Know how filthy he was.

How easy he had been. How quickly he had let a senior take things from him he never wanted to give. How quickly he had shattered.

Because it didn’t matter that he had said no. Not to people like Adly. Not when the world still found a way to look at Amirr like he had let it happen. Like he had enjoyed it. Like he had become something dirty because of it.

And maybe he had.

Maybe he really was dirty.

That thought settled in his chest like a weight.

He hugged his knees tighter, nails digging into his forearms. He didn't cry anymore—not because the pain had passed, but because it had gone too deep now to rise to the surface.

Somewhere, a toilet flushed in a far stall. Laughter echoed from outside the bathroom door, voices of classmates who didn’t know, who would never know. Who would go on living in a world that hadn’t eaten them alive.

He wondered what it would be like to be one of them.

To be untouched.

Unscarred.

Normal.

He let the silence settle around him again, breathing in the stillness, letting it crawl over his skin like a second layer. He didn’t move. He couldn’t.

Because he knew the moment he stood up and walked out of that stall, the real world would be waiting. And Naim’s face would be there, either with a smirk or a frown or a look he couldn’t survive.

And Amirr wasn’t sure which was worse.

Eventually, Amirr forced himself to move. His limbs felt heavy, like they belonged to someone else, as he reached for the tap at the sink, his fingers trembling as he cupped his hands and filled it with tap water and brought it to his mouth. The cold liquid stung his raw throat, the aftertaste of bile still lingering no matter how many times he gargled. He splashed water on his face again and again, as if trying to scrub away the memory, the shame, the hollow feeling in his chest.

His eyes were puffy, the whites tinged red, and his lips were chapped from crying. He avoided looking directly into the mirror above the sink, but caught a glimpse anyway.

What he saw made his stomach twist.

His reflection stared back at him, broken and pitiful, eyes too dull for someone his age. His face looked foreign, warped by sorrow, tainted by memories he never asked to keep. His lips parted as if to say something, anything, but no words came out. Just silence and the ugly, suffocating weight of being seen, even by himself.

He turned away, swallowing the bile that threatened to rise again, and trudged back to the dorm room with leaden steps. His socks were damp from the wet bathroom floor, sticking to his ankles as he walked. The hallway was empty. Too quiet. It only made his loneliness more deafening.

When he pushed open the door to their shared room, his heart thudded against his ribs, part of him afraid, hoping and dreading that Naim might be there.

But the room was empty.

Void of life. Void of noise. Void of him.

And somehow, that hurt more than any cruel word ever could.

He stood frozen for a second, trying to gather air into lungs that didn’t want to breathe. A tear slipped down his cheek, silent and uninvited. He didn’t bother to wipe it away. It fell onto his shirt, soaking into the already-wrinkled fabric.

Amirr walked to his closet slowly, avoiding the small mirror attached to the inside of the locker door. But his eyes flicked toward it anyway, like they always did. And again, he saw himself, and hated it.

He hated the way his shoulders slumped, the way his eyes were swollen and sad, the way his collar was stained with tears. He hated the way he looked like a victim. Like he had no spine. No dignity. Just a boy with ghosts clinging to his skin.

He turned his face away in disgust and pulled on a clean set of clothes with mechanical motions. Every movement felt choreographed, distant, like he was watching himself from outside his own body.

Once changed, he moved to his bed and crawled under the thin blanket. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, familiar and unforgiving. He curled in on himself, arms wrapped tight around his middle, like that would keep everything from spilling out again. But it didn’t. The tears came anyway, silent and persistent, soaking into the pillow and staining the sheets beneath him in heartbreak and pain.

He lay there until sleep pulled him under, not gently, but like a wave crashing down over his head. Drowning him in exhaustion.

—

The next morning came slowly, dragging him into consciousness with a dry throat and crusted eyelids. The room was dim, early light bleeding in through the window slats. His head pounded, his body stiff from the unnatural position he'd slept in. His fingers twitched against the sheets.

He turned slowly, eyes instinctively drifting toward Naim’s bed.

Untouched.

The blanket still folded neatly. Pillow still puffed up. The faint scent of Naim’s cologne still clung to the air, but he wasn’t there.

Amirr bit his lower lip so hard it split slightly, salty blood touching his tongue. He refused to let the sob building in his chest escape. Not again. Not today.

He rose, legs unsteady, and headed to the bathroom to shower. The water was cold, too cold, but he let it run anyway, hoping it would numb everything inside him too. He scrubbed his body harder than necessary, leaving faint red streaks down his skin, as if he could erase the filth that only he could feel.

By the time he put on his prefect uniform, his face looked slightly more composed, but the damage was still there, hiding in the puffiness around his eyes and the tight line of his mouth.

He didn’t wait around.

He slung his bag over one shoulder, tied his shoes with shaking fingers, and left before anyone else could see him. Before Naim might walk in and glance his way with that same mocking sneer. Or worse, not look at him at all.

The dining hall was already buzzing by the time he got there, but to Amirr, it felt like the world had muted. Everything was quieter, distant, even though he could see people laughing, could hear trays clattering and utensils scraping plates.

But the seat next to him stayed empty.

He picked at his nasi lemak without tasting it, head down, eyes locked on the food he couldn’t bring himself to eat. His hands clenched and unclenched beneath the table.

People moved around him, friends he used to laugh with, classmates he used to talk to. None of them noticed how silent he’d become. None of them noticed he was sitting alone.

And despite everything, despite the ache in his chest, despite the poison Naim had spat into the air like a weapon, Amirr still missed him.

He missed his annoying jokes.

Missed the way Naim would poke at his side to annoy him when he was stressed.

Missed the soft "weh, kau okay ke?" that would come out of nowhere when Naim thought no one was looking.

Missed the presence that used to feel warm even when it irritated him.

How could he still miss someone who had carved him open?

But he did.

God, he did.

And the worst part was he didn’t know if that made him pathetic… or human.

—

It had hurt, more than Amirr wanted to admit, when he saw Naim leaning close to Mia from DM, laughing at something she said like she had just told him the secret to happiness. The way his eyes softened when he looked at her, like she was something delicate and ethereal, made Amirr’s stomach twist with something ugly and small and impossible to swallow.

Stars in his eyes. He used to be the one who saw Naim like that. But now... now it was Naim looking at someone else as if she held the whole damn sky together. And Amirr hated himself, fucking hated, that he wished it was him Naim was looking at like that.

He looked down at his plate, appetite crumbling to dust. The ayam masak merah he once loved now looked sickeningly red, too vivid, like it was mocking him. His fork only moved the food around, not lifting a single bite to his lips. And just as he was about to stand and quietly leave the table like he had originally wanted to when—

Two trays clattered onto the bench beside him.

“Eh, Mirr!” Fakhri’s familiar voice broke through the cloud in his head, cheerful as ever. “Kau tak makan ke?”

Amirr blinked, startled. Fakhri had plopped down beside him like they’d done it every day, eyes flicking to Amirr’s barely-touched food with a frown. Azam sat across from them, already launching into a story, mouth full and grin wide.

“Uh... tak kot. Kenyang dah,” Amirr muttered, clearing his throat as he sat straighter, unsure of what was happening.

Fakhri lit up like it was good news. “Aku ambik telur tau. Terima kasih!” Without missing a beat, he leaned over, scooped up the untouched boiled egg with his spoon, and took a big bite out of it like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Amirr just... stared at him. Mouth slightly parted. Confused.

Why were they sitting with him?

Why were they acting like he hadn’t been spiraling into the dark just now?

He studied Fakhri quietly, wondering how the younger Ismet brother could be so different from the older one. Fakhri’s presence was light, effortless, like he brought his own sunlight with him. The contrast only made Naim’s absence, and betrayal, sting worse.

Naim…

Amirr’s eyes wandered, almost against his will, trailing toward the far end of the dining hall. And that’s when he saw him.

Naim.

Leaning against the wall beside Mia, arms crossed, head slightly tilted in that casual way Amirr knew too well. But it wasn’t the stance that made his chest seize but instead it was the look in Naim’s eyes.

He was staring. No, scratch that, he was glaring. Right at Amirr.

Amirr’s heart dropped. His breath caught as he quickly looked away, pulse skittering like a frightened animal. He forced his attention back to Fakhri and Azam, nodding numbly at whatever Azam was saying, though the words blurred into white noise.

When he looked back… Naim was gone.

And somehow, that stung more.

He pressed his lips together, tucked the ache deep down, and soldiered on through the rest of his day with the cold efficiency of a boy who had no other choice. Prefect duties. Classes. Roll call. Patrol. All of it handled with stiff composure, as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t shattered just days before.

But nothing could prepare him for what was waiting when he finally dragged his feet back to the dorm.

Naim was there.

Sitting at the edge of his bed like a storm held in place by sheer will. His blazer still clung to his shoulders, sleeves wrinkled, arms crossed, jaw tight. His prefect pin caught the last light of the setting sun, glinting like a warning.

Amirr stopped at the door, heart thudding painfully in his chest. He didn’t look at him. Just walked to his side of the room, dropped his bag on his bed, and started removing his blazer with robotic calm.

But Naim didn’t stay quiet.

“Serious lah, Mirr? Kau tak dapat aku, kau pergi untuk adik aku?”

The words hit harder than they should’ve. A punch to the gut.

Amirr froze for half a second before moving again, slowly slipping off his tie. He said nothing. Not because he had no response, but because he was tired. Too exhausted to feel offended, too wounded to find the energy to care how cruel Naim was being.

He turned toward his locker.

“Woi,” Naim snapped, voice sharp. “Aku tanya kau ni. Jawab ah!”

A hand gripped his shoulder. That was a mistake.

Amirr spun around so fast the movement startled even himself, hand flying up to slap Naim’s off.

“So what kalau aku gay pon?!” he shouted, voice cracking with pent-up rage. “Benci sangat ke kat aku sampai kau nak tuduh aku benda macam tu?”

His chest rose and fell rapidly, breath shallow and uneven. He could feel the tears building again, hot, traitorous, but he didn’t care anymore. Let them fall. Let Naim see the damage he had done.

He watched Naim’s face falter, eyebrows drawing together as something that almost looked like guilt flickered in his eyes.

Amirr’s voice trembled as he continued, quieter now, but just as cutting. “Aku bagitau kau apa yang jadi dekat aku sebab aku percaya kat kau… sebab aku anggap kau ni sebagai best friend aku.” His throat tightened. “Kejamnya kau, Naim. Kejamnya kau untuk buat aku macam ni.”

A tear slipped free, streaking silently down his cheek as his voice cracked once more. “Aku ni bukan manusia ke bagi kau? Tak cukup baik ke aku ni untuk dapat belas kasihan kau sikit pun?”

Naim didn’t speak. He just stood there, frozen. And for once, he didn’t look angry. He looked… panicked. Like the truth had finally caught up with him and he didn’t know how to run from it.

But Amirr didn’t wait for him to speak. He couldn’t.

He turned away again, retreating into the small sanctuary of his side of the room, the silence behind him louder than any insult Naim had ever thrown.

—

They didn’t speak for a week after that.

And God. God, that week was the longest Amirr had ever endured.

The silence between them wasn’t loud. It wasn’t hostile. It was just... empty. Cold in a way that made Amirr ache in places he didn’t know could hurt. They crossed paths in hallways. Sat two tables apart at lunch. Lived in the same room. Breathed the same air. But it felt like Naim had disappeared from his world entirely.

He wasn’t alone, not technically. Fakhri and Azam still chatted with him like nothing was wrong. Teachers still called on him in class. The other prefects still nodded to him with polite deference. But it all felt like background noise, like everyone else existed in some distant realm, too far for him to reach.

He hadn’t felt this kind of hollow since Form 2. Since before he had learned what it meant to laugh with someone until his stomach hurt. Since before he had learned what it felt like to fall asleep knowing someone had his back.

Since before Naim.

Now, even when he sat in their shared room, the silence between their beds felt like a vast ocean neither of them dared to cross.

Until one evening, when the sunset had dipped the school grounds in soft gold and the hum of fans filled the room with a steady rhythm, something shifted.

Amirr was hunched over the study desk near his bed, sleeves rolled up, fingers stained with ink. He was halfway through outlining a set of history notes, underlining a date with mechanical precision when he felt it.

A soft tap on his shoulder.

He turned, expecting maybe Azam or even Fakhri, ready to wave them off with a distracted smile.

But it wasn’t either of them.

It was Naim.

He stood there awkwardly, hands shoved into the pockets of his school pants, still in uniform but with his tie hanging loose around his neck. His expression was tense, conflicted. Like he’d spent the entire day rehearsing this moment and still didn’t feel ready.

In his outstretched hand was a familiar plastic packet.

Sour gummies.

His favorite sour gummies.

Amirr stared. Lips parting slightly. Not daring to breathe.

“Aku–” Naim started, then stopped. He shifted his weight from one foot to another and glanced away briefly, before forcing himself to meet Amirr’s gaze again. “Aku mintak maaf, Mirr.” His voice was low. Rough around the edges. “Aku takde niat nak sakitkan kau. Sumpah.”

Amirr blinked, his heart catching at the sound of his name in Naim’s voice again. It didn’t come with the sharpness it once had. There was no teasing lilt, no frustration. Just... softness. Regret.

The apology wasn’t clean. It wasn’t polished. But it was real. Fumbling, but honest. Amirr saw it in his eyes, in the way they narrowed slightly in shame, how he couldn't quite keep still, how his thumb worried the edge of the plastic packet in his hand.

Naim didn’t do apologies. Not like this. Not often. But here he was.

And God, he remembered.

Amirr took the packet with careful fingers, like it was something sacred. Something breakable. The familiar crinkle of the plastic made something tight unravel in his chest. His throat burned.

He remembered I liked these.

It would’ve been easier to stay angry. To cling to the silence like a shield and keep pretending he didn’t care. But he did. He always did.

So maybe it was stupid. Maybe he was letting his heart win again when it shouldn’t.

But he gave Naim a small, almost hesitant smile anyway.

“Kau ingat lagi aku suka benda ni?” he asked, voice quiet.

Naim’s lips twitched into a sheepish smile. “Of course aku ingat. Kau makan sampai lidah kau jadi merah dulu.”

A soft laugh escaped Amirr before he could stop it, the sound shaky but real. He ducked his head for a moment, gripping the packet tightly.

Then Naim cleared his throat, voice gentler now. “Aku rindu nak lepak dengan kau, Mirr.”

Amirr looked up at that, heart squeezing painfully. There was no grand gesture, no dramatic confession. Just those words, quiet and sincere.

And somehow, they hit harder than anything else.

For a long moment, Amirr just looked at him. The boy he once called his best friend. The boy who had broken his heart without even realizing it. And now, the boy who was trying, clumsily, to make amends.

Maybe forgiveness wasn’t supposed to be easy.

But maybe it started with sour gummies and an apology.

And so, Amirr nodded. Slowly. “Aku pun rindu kau.”

Naim smiled, really smiled, and suddenly, the distance between them didn’t feel so impossible anymore.

They didn’t talk much more that night. But they didn’t have to.

Ayam/Azam

Jay Tan

Zahrin (Zahrin is better with this style, the hat just don't work for moi)

Prakash

(Yeah Prakash and Zahrin ended up way too close to each other, I give up on trying to edit their bits cause it keeps making Zahrin have an afro and Prakash a weird double chin)

Fahmi

Amirr (the more I stare at his hair in the pics online, the more I want to label it as Frankenstein Chic)

Which becomes like their anniversary thing........