My brother or my enemy⦠tfa version
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My brother or my enemy⦠tfa version

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Megat and Reza somewhere in the abandoned area with carpets.
Circa whichever year you like I don't give a shit about dat, this whole shit took way longer than I realised once I'm done, also wanna include that I borrowed some idea from https://www.tumblr.com/freeeggbailiffcash?source=share
Basically In her Niskala suaka Fic, there's a short excerpt of Megat owning a silver stirling lighter, I don't think I read it wrong tho, idk, I'm too tired to think, anyway go read it cause its awesome.
Hope you like it, not the best but I think it's OK for what it is, or maybe I'm praising myself too much.
Either way yayyy, I finished this lame ass idea I had in my head for an art piece.
iām your man.
tag: @angstsumu @vamp-ish @kerhsfa @fallenkaplas @gempaksiakap @dmtky @yourpersonalstash @skycroquette @damattokeyo
parallelism of the kp and their bestfriend in phc + kkhc š
anak tunggal megat. thats the whole plot. thx
Megat was used to silence. It followed him like a shadow, trailing behind him through the long hallways of his house, settling in the corners of his room like an uninvited guest. He used to think of it as something natural, something that came with being the only child in a house far too big for three people.
He remembered, once, standing at the top of the stairs when he was nine, his small hands gripping the railing as he watched his parents leave for another work trip. His mother had kissed his forehead, pressing her lips against his skin, while his father ruffled his hair gently.
āShah anak kuat, kan? Mama dan papa tinggalkan Shah sekejap for work. Tapi kamu tahu kan we love you so much?ā his mother said, smiling as if it could erase the weight of her absence.
He nodded, not because he is strong, but because he knew that was what they wanted to hear.

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PHC/KKHC- Jealousy, Jealousy ā¤ļøāš©¹
Do the KUDRAT guys get jealous?
Warnings: None, SFW
A/N: did i promise a fic? Maaaybe but look over here, ANOTHER IMAGINE *runs away*
REZA š
- he doesnt really get jealous. Hes quite secure of his position in your life.
"Megat The Hornet"
//Megat's handsome tho ngl but his haircut pissed me off
Time passed.
Muradās days filled with travel, speeches, and the kind of endless correspondence that blurred one obligation into the next. Whatever connection heād started to build with Fakhri dissolved into the background hum of his life. Kudrat became a distant shoreāuntil the news reached him.
First, in passing: a small tropical storm had swept through the academy grounds.
Then, in quick succession, from various sourcesābut never from his own familyācame worse.
A coup dāĆ©tat.
The fracture between Reza and Megat Shah, a rift wide enough to swallow the academy whole. Kaharās name, unexpectedly, was in the mixānot as a casualty, but as the one whoād managed to topple both Megat and Reza from their high horses.
The words of his soulmate came back to him then, unbidden and heavy: Even a parent who has nurtured their children from the very beginning, giving them every ounce of care, cannot stop the world from ripping them from their roots.
Remember the fear. Remember the pain. Remember that you are powerlessāthat control is nothing but a mirage. Your sons, and your sonsā sons, will bleed.
Murad clenched his jaw. That truth still stood; no matter how fiercely he tried, he could not safeguard his brothers from themselves, nor from the knives of others. But that didnāt mean he had to stand idle while they tore each other apart.
He returned to Kudrat under a sky swollen with rain. The corridors felt too quiet, emptied of their usual thrum.
The sick bay door stood half-closed, a thin gap spilling a sliver of light into the hall. Murad approached, every step slow, silent. Through the narrow opening, he caught sight of Megat Shah, bent over a bedāover Reza, lying horizontal, battered.
Megatās voice was low, his tone almost tender, murmuring a steady stream of soft nonsense, the sort of words meant to soothe a frightened child.
Muradās hands curled into fists.
āTarik warna kuning ikat tengkuk tali anjing,ā Megat commented lightly, āKucing lawan kucing hanya mahu satu locengā
āAmende kau merepek ni, sial?ā Reza muttered, his voice thinner, weaker, than Murad had ever heard it.
"Lah, nak dodoikan kau tidur pun salah." Megatās hand brushes sweat-matted, blood-darkened hair from Rezaās forehead before he bends and presses a kiss just above his left eyebrow.
It isnāt simply that Murad shouldnāt be here to see thisāno one should. Even without the laws of man and nature conspiring against it, the scene is too raw, too intimate for witnesses. Fresh kill isnāt served at the table while itās still steaming. There is savagery here, as there is in all love that burns without restraint.
"Kejar kuasa sampai sanggup menunggu tahun," Reza croaks, "kejar nama sampai sanggupnya anak dihukum."
Murad stands utterly still in the doorway, eyes unblinking. It hits him that Reza and Megat speak in their own closed loopāa cryptid language, layered and ellipticalāand he wonders why he never noticed this intimacy before.
The way Megat looks at Reza is unfiltered and consuming, like finding a dim light amidst glittering gold. And in the harsh flicker of the old fluorescent, Murad sees it: encircling Megatās throat like a choker is a string of writingāAbdul Reza bin Abu Yamin.
Heās too far to make out whether Reza bears the same mark, but he doesnāt need to. The evidence is glaring; Theyāre soulmates.
Megat hasnāt even bothered to hide it with soulpatches, which is lunacy in its purest form. He and Reza are a red-hot inferno colliding with a raging typhoonādestructive, magnificent, and impossible to containāso consumed by how good it feels that when itās suddenly, viciously attacked, theyāre caught completely off guard.
Reza shifts, trying to sit up, a grimace twisting his face.
āKau baring je laaā¦ā Megatās tone is sharp, almost scolding, āapa degil sangatādah kena bantai ni tak reti nak diam lak.ā
āKau punca aku kena bantai,ā Reza rasps back, his breath hitching in pain.
Megatās fingers tangle roughly in Rezaās hair, not quite pulling, not quite letting go. āAku benci kau,ā he says, with perfect sincerity and perfect dishonesty, voice thickened with the weight of tears. āAku benci kau sebab paksa aku buat ni. Sebab kau pijak aku, pastu tak reti mintak maafātapi aku tak nak kau mati laa, gila.ā
āMu cayo cakap aku,ā Reza slurs, drunk on pain and exhaustion, ātakdo sampe tahap mati laa, hamla.ā His head lolls slightly. āShah⦠aku ade benda nak bagitau kau.ā
Megat starts to protest, āDah, tak payahāā
But Reza talks over him, and Muradāagainst all reasonāis glad for it. Glad to know that no amount of love will ever stop Abdul Reza from trampling someone flat.
āAkuā¦ā Rezaās hand lifts, slow and unsteady, fingers brushing the side of Megatās face. āAku minta maaf sebab cantas kau.ā
āAku tak terima maaf kau,ā Megat says immediately, the words landing like a stone in still water.
Murad doesnāt know what sound he makes that draws Megatās gazeāmaybe itās nothing, maybe Megat is only looking out of instinct, scanning for intruders.
But suddenly, Megatās eyes are on him.
Thereās blood on Megatās face where Rezaās fingers had been.
They just look at each other, across the gap between them.
Reza should be the center, Murad thinks, the line between themābut he is not. He is on Megatās side of the room. And maybe thatās right. Maybe thatās what Murad should have seen all along.