alternatepen

[alternatepen]

[alternatepen]

my school president: “best of” edition ↳ tinn/gun + gun touching tinn's chin

“Mr. School President, don’t you want to give me orders?”

+ bonus:

[alternatepen]

my school president: “best of” edition ↳ tinn/gun + gun touching tinn's chin

“Mr. School President, don’t you want to give me orders?”

+ bonus:

[alternatepen]

Chapter Two: Crossing Path

Universitas Mentari Mulia - Tangerang

Pagi itu matahari bersinar cerah, burung-burung berkicauan, awan putih berlayar seperti kapal di langit biru yang terhembus angin sepoi-sepoi, pohon-pohon rindang di taman kampus elit ini pun menciptakan suasana yang damai dan syahdu membuat Felix, yang hampir tidak pernah tidur lebih dari 3 jam selama 3 malam silam, merasa lebih tenang walaupun kepalanya masih berdenyut. Felix berjalan gontai sambil menghela napas panjang, mood-nya benar-benar berantakan, ia berharap bisa mendapatkan tidur yang cukup nanti malam. Tanpa Felix sadari, kehadirannya pagi ini memikat seseorang yang memperhatikannya dari jauh.

Gabriel bersandar ke kaca yang memisahkan gelanggang basket dengan taman kampus saat matanya menangkap sesosok yang ia kenali. Rasa kantuknya seketika hilang saat ia melihat penampakan Felix: rambutnya yang mulai panjang ditata seadanya dengan bando hitam ke belakang, ransel biru muda yang dilampirkan di salah satu bahu, t-shirt biru dengan wajah smiley dan jeans yang terlihat sedikit kebesaran membuat ia terlihat seperti anak sekolah dasar yang sedang tersesat di kampus ini. Walaupun wajahnya terlihat lelah dengan kantong mata yang mulai menonjol, sama sekali tidak mengurangi ketampanan pemuda itu.

Gabriel hanya bisa tertegun diam mengamati Felix yang berjalan pelan ke arahnya. Entah mengapa pagi ini kaki jenjangnya memiliki pikirannya sendiri; mulai melangkah ke tengah-tengah jalan setapak seperti berniat untuk menghalangi jalan pemuda berbaju biru yang berjalan ke arahnya. Dan benar saja, Felix yang sedari tadi hanya melihat ke bawah kontan terkejut karena Gabriel yang muncul tiba-tiba di depannya. Badannya terhuyung ke belakang tiba-tiba terhenti oleh tangan yang menangkapnya. Mata mereka pun bertemu kembali, Gabriel dengan mata gelapnya bertemu dengan mata cokelat Felix yang membesar.

Satu... dua... tiga... empat detik mereka membeku di posisinya masing-masing, Gabriel yang menopang tubuh Felix dengan tangan kanannya dan Felix yang bersandar 45 derajat ke tangan kanan Gabriel. Beberapa pasang mata mahasiswa yang berlalu lalang di dekat mereka menatap dengan terkesima seperti menyaksikan shooting adegan K-drama.

"ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?!" Felix yang akhirnya tersadar menapakkan kakinya dan mendorong Gabriel dengan sekali sentakan. Teriakannya kontan memecah ketenangan taman kampus pagi itu; membuat beberapa mahasiswa yang sedang berjalan menuju gedung fakultas mereka masing-masing maupun security yang berjaga di sekitar taman tersentak dan otomatis menoleh ke arah suara lantang tersebut.

Gabriel bisa meilhat wajah berubah merah padam dan mata cokelat Felix memandangnya dengan penuh amarah. Tidak ia sangka Felix bisa menjerit sekencang tadi.

"The fuck is your problem?!" Felix berkata tajam sambil memungut kembali ransel miliknya yang sempat terjatuh dan meninggalkan Gabriel. Kejadian ini sama sekali tidak ada di kartu bingo bulan Septembernya.

"For Christ's sake, what did you do, Gab?" Seorang gadis yang tak kalah tingginya dengan Gabriel berjalan cepat menghampirinya, bingung dengan teman sekelasnya yang sudah berbuat onar pagi ini. Ia mengenakan jas lab yang tak terkancing dengan kerah bergaris hijau —tanda mahasiswa prodi Biotechnology; name tag yang terbordir bertuliskan Patricia Vossbein.

Yang ditanya hanya terkekeh seperti orang gila, "Gapapa Pat, cuma iseng." Gabriel menjawab sekenanya.

"Gue cuma ninggalin lu beli air bentar, dan lu udah bikin anak orang ngamuk. Sinting lu emang." Patricia menjulingkan matanya, heran tapi tak heran dengan kelakuan Gabriel yang seringkali diluar nalar teman-teman sekelasnya. "Ayo buruan, si Vanessa udah nungguin dari tadi di lab mikro. She's been bitching on whatsapp and I can't take it anymore." Gabriel yang digandeng Patricia ke arah gedung fakultas STEM hanya bisa menatap punggung Felix yang semakin berjalan menjauh dari dirinya.

Menarik, batin Gabriel sambil tersenyum.

[To Be Continued]

[alternatepen]

Chasing Northern Lights: Act 4

Thonglor, Bangkok 2023

As the sun-kissed photoshoot drew to its inevitable conclusion, North's experienced hands deftly packed away his cherished equipment. Each camera and lens was carefully cradled & secured in its designated case, a ritual he had perfected over countless shoots. The satisfying click of the locks resonated with a sense of accomplishment, as though each piece of gear had played its part in creating visual magic.

Yet, instead of succumbing to the lure of a well-deserved rest or the comforts of home, North found himself inexplicably drawn to the complex's vibrant atmosphere. The allure of the place, its energy and ever-changing tapestry of life, beckoned to him like a siren's song. The day was an anomaly in Bangkok, a rare gift of a breezy afternoon, and North intended to seize it, to explore the visual wonders the day might unfold.

His journey within the complex was more than a casual stroll; it was a visual quest. The camera, now resting comfortably around his neck, was poised for action. North sought out moments of serendipity and beauty, from the intricate play of light and shadow on the polished floors to the candid expressions of shoppers lost in their retail reverie. In each snapshot, he captured fragments of existence, preserving them as timeless artefacts of the human experience.

With every click of the shutter, North immortalized fragments of life that might otherwise slip into oblivion. He was an artist who thrived on the beauty of the mundane, capturing the essence of fleeting moments. The gilded rays of the setting sun painted the scene before him with strokes of warmth and shadow, coaxing out the hidden details that might escape an untrained eye.

His lens found solace in the candid moments of strangers passing by—a couple engaged in playful conversation, their laughter frozen in time; a food vendor, apron stained with the day's work, deftly crafting a delicious snack; a child chasing a stray balloon, eyes filled with pure wonder. These were the stories within stories that North sought to reveal, each photograph a testament to the extraordinary within the ordinary.

As he continued his photographic journey through the shopping complex, his camera lens was drawn to the architectural marvels that surrounded him. He sought out the interplay of light & shadow on sleek, modern facades, transforming them into abstract compositions. Patterns in glass windows became intricate mosaics, and the complex's structural elements were reborn as works of art. North had a gift for seeing beyond the surface, unearthing hidden narratives and breathing life into the inanimate. In his photographic odyssey, North was more than an observer; he was a visual storyteller, weaving the threads of everyday life into a tapestry of enduring moments.

North ascended to the rooftop haven that felt like an oasis amidst the urban sprawl. The afternoon sun, with its gentle golden touch, transformed the rooftop yard into a sanctuary where time seemed to slow. Here, amid an ensemble of potted plants and the soothing caress of the breeze, he could pause, breathe, and reflect. The urban jungle that stretched out beneath him, bustling with life and hidden stories, now felt distant and hushed, its cacophony muted by the serene charm of this elevated respite.

The idea of a leisurely coffee enticed him, and North's impulsive decision to explore the rooftop café unfolded like a serendipitous page in his visual diary. As he ventured forth, his camera, slung securely across his chest, remained ever at the ready. With each step, he felt a sense of anticipation—a heightened awareness that every corner of this hidden gem might yield a composition, a play of light and shadow, or a candid moment of urban poetry worth capturing.

As North stepped across the threshold of the café, he was instantly embraced by the intoxicating scent of freshly brewed coffee, a rich, earthy aroma that seemed to infuse the very air he breathed. His ritual began with the familiar order of his signature hot flat white. As the barista prepared the velvety concoction, North's fingers instinctively wrapped around the comforting warmth of his vintage camera, never more than an arm's length away. The café's interior, bathed in the golden hues of the sun's descent, unfolded before him like a theatre of light and shadow, each corner exuding a unique charm that begged to be captured.

Sunlight poured through the windows, dappling every surface with intricate patterns of illumination and darkness. It was as if the cosmos had orchestrated this dance of photons exclusively for North's lens, presenting him with an ephemeral canvas where the mundane transcended into the extraordinary. The play of light and shadow created a symphony of visual poetry, casting a spell that even the most casual observer could not escape. It was in these moments that his Nikon F3 became an extension of his soul, capturing not just images but emotions, stories, and the very essence of existence itself.

Amidst this exquisite interplay, his lens gravitated towards a figure positioned at the café's farthest corner. This solitary presence seemed to exist in perfect harmony with the golden radiance pouring through the windows, an embodiment of quiet confidence bathed in the luminous embrace of the setting sun. The silver glasses frames perched upon the figure's nose glistened like precious relics, capturing the sun's rays in a mesmerising, almost ethereal, fashion. North's heart raced with the recognition of a moment that demanded to be preserved, to be held in perpetuity as a testament to the serendipitous beauty that life, and his lens, could offer. Without hesitation, the camera clicked, its shutter capturing not just an image but an entire story, immortalising the solitary subject and the ineffable essence of the moment.

For one suspended moment, North found himself entranced by the figure at the corner of the café. It was an inexplicable pull, a magnetic force that tugged at the strings of his memory, like encountering a long-lost melody that danced on the edge of recognition. He watched in fascination as the sunlight played upon the figure's features, each contour etched in delicate chiaroscuro. In those fleeting seconds, the person seemed endearing, as though they held a secret known only to the universe.

It was as if he were gazing upon a living, breathing déjà vu, a sensation that clawed at the recesses of his memory, demanding recognition yet remaining maddeningly elusive. In those fleeting moments, North found himself teetering on the precipice of recollection, the tantalizing spectre of something important hovering just beyond his grasp.

He couldn't help but study the person a fraction longer than he intended. The silver glasses frames, the way the sunlight played upon them, the poise with which the figure sat, it all felt uncannily familiar. His attention bordered on rudeness, and North abruptly averted his gaze, not wanting to intrude any further upon the person's solitude.

Inside, a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts swirled like a tempestuous sea. It was as if he were on the precipice of a profound revelation, an answer to a question he hadn't yet asked. He furrowed his brow, the mental gears churning as he strained to remember. Who was this person, and why did they evoke such an inexplicable sense of recognition?

An emotional tempest churned within him, an intricate tapestry of curiosity, nostalgia, and a burning desire to remember. He felt as though he stood on the precipice of a revelation—an elusive memory that danced at the edges of his consciousness. A name, a place, a shared experience—the fragments of recollection taunted him like elusive fireflies in the night. He couldn't help but wonder if they had met before, in some distant corner of his past, their presence etched into the annals of his life.

As North's mind raced to reconcile the past with the present, the vibrant memory of that fateful night in Jökulsárlón burst forth with breathtaking clarity. It was as if a long-forgotten canvas had suddenly been brought to life with vivid strokes of color. He could see it all again—the inky, obsidian sky illuminated by the ethereal dance of the northern lights, their radiant green and violet hues painting a celestial masterpiece.

And there, beneath that celestial canopy, stood the enigmatic figure—just as he was now, but bathed in the elusive, otherworldly glow of the aurora borealis. It wasn't merely a photograph coming to life in North's mind; it was a living, breathing moment of time. The subject gleamed faintly under the celestial spectacle, casting a captivating silhouette that seemed almost surreal against the backdrop of the Arctic night.

In his mental image, North could see the figure's poised stance, their backlit form accentuating the sharp edges of silver glasses frames, which caught the dancing lights in a mesmerizing play of reflections. The enigma of that moment, frozen in time, was now unfurling before North's eyes. Every detail—the figure's stillness, the quiet intensity of the scene, and the haunting beauty of the aurora—was etched into his memory as if it had imprinted itself on his soul.

North's heart quickened, the vividness of the recollection leaving him momentarily breathless. It was a connection between two points in time, a thread that had woven its way through the tapestry of their lives. As he prepared to bridge the gap between memory and reality, North couldn't help but marvel at the cosmic design that had led them to this serendipitous juncture—a juncture where the past and present converged in a symphony of light and longing.

Fate had orchestrated a reunion, weaving their stories back together in a twist of serendipity. It was his chance, the opportunity he had longed for—to introduce himself, to finally unmask the mysterious being who had unknowingly become the muse of his famed photograph.

With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, North knew he couldn't let this moment slip through his fingers. He yearned to see the smile that had enchanted him in the dimly lit jazz bar, to witness the sparkle in those captivating doe eyes, to hear the vivacious laughter that had resonated in the candlelit ambiance. North was determined to delve beyond the surface and uncover the depths of the person who had sparked his curiosity & ignited his creative passion.

North felt a surge of excitement coursing through his veins. The café's serene atmosphere seemed to echo his racing heartbeat, and he couldn't wait to bridge the gap between them. It was a chance to rewrite their story, to transform a chance encounter into a profound connection—a moment that held the promise of something more. North was ready to step into the unknown, eager to embark on this unexpected journey that fate had laid before him.

As North prepared to rise from his seat, a palpable tension hung in the air, the seconds feeling like an eternity. He was on the precipice of taking that pivotal step to greet the mysterious guy, whose presence had become a beacon of intrigue. The bustling café around them seemed to fade into the background, and for that suspended moment, it felt as though the universe held its breath in anticipation.

But then fate delivered yet another unexpected twist. Another figure, confident and purposeful, glided effortlessly toward his table. Clad in a crisp white button-up shirt, his jet-black hair meticulously parted, and his face bearing an uncanny resemblance to a sculpture by Michelangelo himself, this newcomer exuded an aura of irresistible charm.

With a seamless grace, the newcomer seated himself directly across from the unsuspecting subject. He wore an air of quiet assurance, hands folded across his chest, as if standing sentinel to protect the subject's moment of solitude. A patient stillness enveloped him as he patiently awaited acknowledgment, an unspoken presence signifying guardianship over the enigmatic figure.

North's heart sank, and a pang of melancholy washed over him like a shadow cast by the setting sun. It was yet another missed chance, a twist of fate that seemed to revel in playing with his emotions. The universe, it appeared, was a capricious storyteller, weaving narratives only to obscure them once more. The weight of this missed connection settled heavily upon North's shoulders, a poignant reminder of life's capricious dance.

He watched as the enigmatic subject and the striking newcomer engaged in what seemed to be an animated conversation. Their silhouettes against the backdrop of the café's golden-hour ambiance created an almost cinematic tableau. Words exchanged, laughter shared, and gestures made—North could only imagine the depth of their interaction.

Regret gnawed at him, a bitter taste in his mouth. It was a painful reminder that sometimes, despite the universe's playful orchestrations, timing remained elusive. Yet, North couldn't help but be captivated by the unfolding scene. As much as his heart ached for the missed opportunity, he found solace in knowing that, somewhere, two souls had found each other in the most unexpected of ways. In this bittersweet moment, he glimpsed the intricacies of human connection and the unpredictability of life's grand narrative.

As the café's golden-hour glow began to dim, North continued to watch the two figures, now deep in conversation, their connection growing stronger with each passing moment. The melancholy that had gripped him earlier began to ebb away, replaced by a quiet sense of wonder and gratitude.

In that moment, North knew that their paths had crossed for a reason. The missed chance was not a conclusion but a prologue —a prologue to a story yet to be written. As the universe continued to spin its enigmatic tales, he couldn't help but smile at the possibilities that lay ahead. Perhaps fate, in all its whimsy, was not done with them yet.

With a heart filled with anticipation, North collected his camera, leaving behind the traces of another fleeting encounter. As he stepped out into the evening, the city's vibrant energy wrapped around him like a familiar embrace. He carried with him the memory of that serendipitous day, knowing that the next chapter of their story awaited, its pages still blank, its tales yet untold.

[To Be Continued.]

#my school president #23 Point 5 #geminifourth #northtinn #northnight #fanfic

[alternatepen]

Chasing Northern Lights: Act 3

Thonglor, Bangkok 2023

Amidst the bustling rhythms of Bangkok's urban life, Tinn found solace in the hidden gem he had come to treasure—a sanctuary where he could momentarily escape the relentless demands of medical school. Emerging from the academic crucible, his mind still brimming with the overwhelming knowledge of the day's lectures and journals, he sought refuge in a place where the boundaries between indoors and outdoors blurred into a harmonious coexistence.

As he entered this hidden enclave, the transition was akin to stepping into an alternate reality. The space exuded an aura of sophistication, elegantly blending natural elements with modernity. Lush greenery intertwined with sleek architectural design, creating an ambiance that was both inviting and rejuvenating. It was a seamless fusion of indoor and outdoor—a space where one could study, converse, or simply bask in tranquillity.

He settled into a comfortable corner, his thoughts momentarily drifting away from the world of pathogens and laboratory experiments. The allure of this place lay not only in its aesthetic charm, but also in its ability to foster connections. It was a space where the rigours of medical school could be momentarily set aside, where friendships could deepen amidst the tranquil backdrop of lush greenery and soothing ambience.

As the afternoon sun cast dappled shadows through the foliage, his thoughts drifted to the first day when the bonds of their friendship were forged in. It was a memory that warmed his heart and brought a fond smile to his lips—a memory that began with an unexpected twist of fate.

It was during their early days in medical school, a time when the weight of textbooks and the complexity of lectures threatened to overwhelm even the most determined students. On that particular day, Tinn had faced an unexpected obstacle that would set their friendship in motion.

Tinn couldn't help but feel like a lost soul in the sprawling maze of their academic institution. His first weeks at the university had been a whirlwind of lectures, unfamiliar faces, and a constant battle against the overwhelming tide of information. While he had a strong resolve to excel in his medical studies, the initial challenges left him disoriented, unsure of where he stood in the grand scheme of things.

It was then that Sun, with her keen observational skills, noticed the subtle signs of confusion on his face who was standing like a lost child in the middle of the hall, clearly as lost. "Are you also running late for the lecture?" she asked, her voice laced with empathy.

Relieved that he wasn't the only one facing the challenge of navigating the sprawling campus, he nodded in response. “Yes, I am. It's my first month here, and I've managed to get thoroughly lost,” he admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Sun's laughter joined his, creating an instant connection between them. "Us too!! But don’t worry, this campus can be quite a maze. You're in good hands now," she reassured him, gesturing towards Ongsa, who had been quietly observing the interaction.

Ongsa extended a friendly greeting to Tinn, her warm smile putting him at ease. "Hi there! I'm Ongsa. Now, let's go find that lecture hall together, shall we," she suggested, her tone inviting and inclusive.

Tinn felt an immediate sense of belonging, grateful for the unexpected companionship. With Ongsa and Sun's reassuring presence, he quickly realized that he had stumbled upon something far more precious than the lecture he had initially sought.

The weeks that followed saw Tinn, Ongsa, and Sun's encounters grow from happenstance meetings to intentional gatherings. They began to coordinate their schedules, ensuring that they could spend time together both inside and outside the lecture halls. As they shared the joys and challenges of their medical school journey, their bond deepened.

Each meeting brought new stories, shared laughter, and unwavering support. They became each other's confidants, allies, & cheerleaders, celebrating not only their academic achievement but also their personal growth. Through late-night study sessions, impromptu coffee breaks, and heartfelt conversations, their friendship blossomed.

As Tinn's mind lingered in the past, savoruing the warmth of cherished memories, his reverie was abruptly interrupted by the familiar hum of his vibrating phone. The gentle buzz acted like a time machine, whisking him back to the present moment. Retrieving his phone from his pocket, he read Ongsa's message, which carried an apologetic tone, explaining their delay due to Sun's charming distraction—a mischievous kitten. Tinn couldn't help but smile; it was moments like these that made their friendship so special, where even the most trivial of reasons became a source of amusement. Their delay only meant more time for them to catch up, and that was something he eagerly anticipated.

With a sense of contentment and nostalgia lingering, he decided to make the most of his wait. He rose from his comfortable spot and navigated the complex's pathways, past boutiques and eateries, until he arrived at his destination—an unassuming café known for its iced espresso lattes and cosy ambiance.

The scent of freshly roasted coffee beans hung in the air, mingling with the delicate aroma of pastries just out of the oven. Patrons lounged in plush sofas enjoying their late afternoon snacks, their conversations hushed, as if they were sharing secrets in this haven of tranquillity.

He made his way to the counter, a familiar grin exchanged with the barista who had become a friendly face during his frequent visits over the past months. The words he uttered were a well-practiced ritual—a nod to both routine and comfort—as he ordered his beloved iced latte. The barista nodded in acknowledgment & set to work, expertly crafting the coffee that had become his companion during moments of contemplation and connection in this particular café.

Tinn found an empty seat near a large window, bathed in the soft, filtered light that spilled in from outside. He settled into the comfortable chair, his coffee cradled in his hands like an old friend. The first sip sent a rush of bold, dark notes swirling over his taste buds, like a crescendo of rich, roasted symphonies. The liquid, cool and smooth, caressed his tongue, awakening every corner of his palate. A subtle sweetness lingered, a harmonious counterpoint to the robust coffee's bitter undertones.

Outside, the world continued its frenetic pace, a kaleidoscope of lives and stories. People hurried by, lost in their own narratives, oblivious to the oasis of serenity within the café's walls. Yet, for him, this moment of solitude was a treasure—an interlude of calm amidst the bustling city's cacophony.

He retrieved his well-worn copy of "The Great Gatsby" from his bag, its pages yellowed with age and creased from numerous readings. His fingers lightly brushed the worn cover of his book. It was a novel he had read before, but its allure had drawn him back once more. He found solace in the familiar words and the world they painted— a world of extravagant parties, opulence, and the elusive Jay Gatsby.

As he opened the book and delved into its yellowing pages, he couldn't help but reflect on the parallels between the novel's characters and his own life. The tale of unrequited love and the pursuit of an idealized past struck a chord within him. He pondered how often people chased after something unattainable, holding onto dreams that could never be realized.

In the story, Gatsby's love for Daisy Buchanan was all-consuming, an obsession that led him down a path of glamour and deceit. He couldn't help but draw a connection to his own life—an existence centred around textbooks and lectures, the pursuit of knowledge, and the relentless journey of becoming a healer. Yet, beneath the facade of ambition, there lingered a longing for something more— a yearning for the kind of love that transcended time & circumstance.

Lost in his musings, Tinn was momentarily oblivious to the world around him. The café's ambient chatter and the gentle hum of conversation faded into the background as he immersed himself in Fitzgerald's words. It was only when he looked up that he realized he had a new companion at his table.

A figure sat across from him, observing with a mixture of intense curiosity and unmistakable astonishment. Tinn's doe-like eyes widened in response as he locked eyes with this unexpected guest. In that instant, time seemed to stand still. A breathless pause hung in the air, and then the revelation struck him like a bolt of lightning. It couldn't be—yet, it undeniably was… him.

[To be Continued.]

#my school president #23 Point 5 #geminifourth #northtinn #northnight #fanfic

[alternatepen]

Chasing Northern Lights: Act 2

Sukhumvit, Bangkok 2023

On a Friday night, mere weeks after the euphoric crescendo of his photography exhibition, North's restless spirit craved a different kind of artistry—a symphony of sound, a dance of light, and the warm embrace of cherished friends. His destination: a hidden gem of Sukhumvit, a renowned jazz bar concealed behind a clandestine wooden door, its secrets obscured by tangled cascade of electric wires.

As they crossed the threshold, the mundane world dissolved, leaving only wonder in its wake. Before them lay an enchanting realm — a candlelit music hall, the very embodiment of opulence, swathed in the velvety hues of rich, masculine brown wood. Within these hallowed walls, an intimate ambiance unfurled, weaving a tapestry of warmth and connection, where the soulful melodies of jazz flowed through the air like molten gold.

Behind the bar stood a seasoned virtuoso, a maestro of mixology who had mastered North's preferences down to the finest nuance. With effortless finesse, he juggled cocktail shakers and poured libations, each drink a masterpiece crafted from years of dedication. Here, mixology was more than mere bartending; it was an art form, an alchemical dance where elixirs transformed into liquid poetry.

The jazz band on stage was a sight to behold, a seamless fusion of instruments and talent that transported the audience to a different era. The lead saxophonist's fingers danced across the keys, coaxing sultry notes that hung in the air like a seductive promise. The double bass provided a steady heartbeat, anchoring the melodies in a rhythmic embrace. And the drummer, with a twinkle in his eye, guided the tempo with precision, his brushes caressing the cymbals in a delicate dance. The music flowed with an effortless grace, casting a spell that washed over the patrons like a warm, soothing wave.

North and his friends navigated through the dimly lit, smoke-kissed ambiance of the jazz bar, the air alive with the sultry melodies of saxophones and the seductive rhythms of a double bass. They found their designated corner, where a plush leather sofa, aged gracefully with time, embraced them. Its soft, well-worn patina told stories of innumerable good times and echoed with the reverberations of laughter that had filled this sacred space over the years.

Tonight's trio consisted of North, Daonuea, and Nuengdiao—their friends affectionately dubbed them Dek Inter Trio–who shared a history that extended beyond their years. They were united by the bonds forged in one of Bangkok's prestigious international schools, but also by the intricate threads of their backgrounds.

Daonuea, the embodiment of charm and charisma, with a personality as sweet as caramel, possessed a magnetic charm that could captivate anyone fortunate enough to bask in his radiant smile. He was the master of turning strangers into friends, a talent that never failed to astonish anyone, including North & Nuengdiao. And tonight, his bubbly nature was a ray of sunshine in the dimly lit bar.

In stark contrast, Nuengdiao exuded an aura of cool detachment. His icy stare and sometimes aloof demeanour kept most at arm's length. Yet, beneath that frosty exterior lay a loyal friend, his actions always speaking louder than his words. He was the rock-solid foundation of their trio, providing unwavering support, even if he seldom displayed it openly.

And then there was North. Mistaken by many as the group's brooding artiste, he was, in fact, the mischievous jester who added the perfect blend of humour to their dynamic. He was the unassuming glue that held their disparate personalities together, a master of subtlety who could subtly orchestrate their laughter, ensuring that their friendship remained an enduring masterpiece.

After months of being ensnared by the relentless demands of their respective life journeys, destiny finally orchestrated their reunion. North, fresh from the resounding success of his photography exhibition that had captivated hearts and minds alike. Nuengdiao, now the custodian of the family's luxurious resort nestled in the tranquil embrace of Phuket's azure waters. And Daonuea, whose soul had just emerged reborn from the month-long odyssey through the majestic Mongolian steppe.

Daonuea wove his tales with such artistry that his infectious laughter became a symphony, ensnaring the senses of everyone within earshot. Through his vivid storytelling, he conjured a portal, transporting the trio to the boundless, windswept plains of Mongolia. There, they could almost taste the hearty Mongolian cuisine, feel the pulse of nomadic life, and glimpse the very heart of human existence.

He spoke of a moment when he found himself alone on horseback, surrounded by an endless sea of rolling grasslands. The boundless horizon stretched out before him, painting the world in shades of gold as the sun began its descent. Daonuea's voice carried the thrill of the open plains as he described the exhilarating gallop of his horse, the rhythmic hoofbeats echoing in harmony with his pounding heart.

His friends leaned in, hanging on to every word as he narrated the nomadic encounters that followed. He described sharing salty milk tea with welcoming Mongolian nomadic families, the warmth of their hospitality in stark contrast to the sparsely populated grassland. He recounted how they introduced him to traditional games and songs by the campfire, creating bonds that transcended language.

"You know, guys," he chuckled, "I even tried to throat sing with the Mongolian herders one afternoon, but something caught in my throat, and I choked."

North, always ready to add a touch of humour to any situation, burst into laughter, causing nearby patrons to glance their way. "Throat singing? I mean, I can imagine you attempting to channel your inner nomad with those deep, guttural sounds. But the real question would be: did you traumatize any of the local wildlife?"

"Well, let's just say the yaks didn't seem too impressed," Daonuea continued whilst sipping his cocktail. "They gave me the stink eye for days, as if I'd offended their ancestral spirits."

Laughter erupted again from the trio, and Daonuea joined back in, his good-natured smile radiating warmth. "It was quite the spectacle," he admitted. "I think I may have set a new record or the least melodious throat singing in Mongolian history."

Nuengdiao, ever the master of dry humour, couldn't resist adding his own quip. "Well, at least you left an indelible mark. Perhaps the yaks will remember your performance for generations to come. They'll dub it 'The Choked Serenade,' I'm sure."

North, in the midst of sipping his cocktail—a mesmerizing concoction of smoky mezcal, herbal absinthe, and a hint of lavender syrup, garnished with a delicate, flame-torched rosemary sprig—nearly spat out his drink at Nuengdiao's remark. It was as if the cocktail itself had momentarily abandoned its poise, mirroring North's abrupt burst of laughter. The trio then seamlessly resumed sharing their life stories, each narrative an offering, a glimpse into the worlds they had traversed during their time apart.

But as the night unfolded in a symphony of sultry jazz notes, lively laughter, and the resonant clinking of glasses, a new chapter loomed on the horizon. Tinn, accompanied by a couple of friends, made their entrance into the very same jazz bar. The atmosphere embraced them like an old friend, welcoming them into its warm and beguiling embrace.

As Tinn ventured deeper into the jazz bar's embrace, his heart quickened with a blend of excitement and relief. The flickering candlelight painted ethereal patterns on the polished wood, a welcome contrast to the sterile, fluorescent-lit halls of the medical school. The very air he breathed seemed infused with the promise of escape and renewal.

Weeks of unwavering dedication to his medical studies had left Tinn in need of a break—a brief interlude to reclaim a sense of self amid the relentless pursuit of knowledge. With that intent, he had convinced two of his closest friends, Ongsa and Sun, to join him on this enticing expedition into the world of jazz and mixology.

Ongsa, the calm and contemplative one among them, surveyed the jazz bar with an air of quiet appreciation. Her eyes, usually buried in textbooks, now drank in the sultry ambiance with an expression of sheer fascination. The opportunity to unwind was a rare treasure, and Ongsa intended to savour every moment, letting the jazz-infused night washed over her like a healing balm.

Sun, on the other hand, couldn't contain her enthusiasm. Her vibrant energy was palpable as she looked around, her eyes sparkled with the prospect of a night filled with music and laughter. For her, this outing was a chance to shake off the weight of medical school, to be free from the relentless cadence of lectures and exams. Sun's infectious joy radiated, casting a warm and inviting glow upon their little group.

Tinn's group settled into a cozy corner booth, the jazz melodies swirled around them, casting a spell that seemed to transcend time & space. In this oasis of music, the world outside ceased to exist, at least for a while.

As the jazz band continued to weave their enchanting tapestry of music, North found himself utterly immersed in the dimly lit ambiance. The flickering candlelight, akin to a million fireflies at play, seemed to cast a spell that transcended time itself. He felt like a silent observer, an elusive figure within a timeless narrative where characters gracefully danced to the rhythm of the night.

In that hallowed moment, North's call to creativity beckoned him. He reached for his vintage film camera, a cherished Nikon from 1983 that had passed through the hands of generations, gifted to him by his grandfather. The timeless heirloom, with its well-worn body adorned by the stories of years gone by, was North's loyal companion. It had been a constant witness to North's artistic evolution, capturing the essence of countless moments in its silent, patient way.

Through the lens of his camera, North sought to immortalize the ethereal essence of the bar—an enchanting realm where music and light gracefully converged into a mesmerizing symphony. With each click of the shutter, he became the storyteller, weaving the essence of this timeless sanctuary into the fabric of his unique visual narratives.

Then, in the blink of an eye, North's gaze was drawn to the trio tucked away in the corner of the bar, their infectious joy radiating like a beacon in the dimly lit space. An irresistible urge surged within him, and his camera lens became an extension of his very soul. It was as if, in those precious moments, he wasn't merely capturing photographs; he was capturing the essence of pure joy itself. Every click of the shutter was an unspoken testament to the deep bonds formed on this extraordinary night, a testament to the connections that filled the air with palpable warmth.

These photographs held a significance that transcended their visual beauty; they bore witness to the profound essence of friendship and the ephemeral nature of happiness. With each frame, North wove a visual narrative, each moment crystallized in time, each smile, each glance, a testament to the vivid tapestry of life being woven that night.

Behind the lens, North's heart raced in his chest as a sudden revelation struck him like a lightning bolt. Amongst the trio in that corner of the bar sat the very person he had immortalized beneath the mesmerizing northern lights on the fateful night in Jökulsárlón. A sense of longing began to swell within his chest, an urge to approach Tinn, to finally meet the man whose presence had inadvertently become a part of his photographic narratives.

As the jazz melodies continued to serenade the dimly lit jazz bar, North's heart maintained its rapid rhythm, an orchestration of emotions that danced in tune with the saxophones and double bass. His gaze remained fixed on Tinn and his companions, who were blissfully unaware of the photographer's silent, introspective vigil.

It was a moment of poignant recognition, where the distant encounter beneath the ethereal northern lights and the vibrant presence in the jazz bar converged in North's consciousness. He couldn't help but ponder the serendipity of it all, how fate had orchestrated this meeting of two souls through the alchemy of photography and the allure of jazz.

Despite the burning intensity of his desire, an inescapable undercurrent of fear bound North to his place, rendering him a captive—a silent observer in the shadows. Since the moment their eyes had met in his photography exhibition, North had harbored an ardent yearning to approach Tinn. He yearned to introduce himself as the craftsman behind the lens, the visual storyteller who had unwittingly ensnared Tinn as both muse and protagonist in his compelling narratives. However, fear remained an unyielding sentinel, resolute in its stance and unyielding in its grip, an immovable barrier that separated him from the realization of his most profound longing.

And so, North chose to remain a silent observer, his camera serving as both a bridge & a barrier in equal measure: a vessel for expression and a shroud of anonymity. It captured moments that appeared to inexorably draw him closer to an encounter he both yearned for and feared—a meeting that could unravel the threads of the stories he had woven and forever alter the course of their narratives.

As the night deepened and the sultry jazz melodies wrapped the bar in their seductive embrace, North embraced his role as the silent observer. Tinn and his group remained immersed in their own world, their laughter harmonizing like a symphony within the intimate cocoon of the jazz bar's ambiance. Their presence painted vibrant strokes across the canvas of the evening, a kaleidoscope of emotions that North couldn't help but watch, his heart a silent orchestra playing in time with the rhythms of their joy.

Daonuea and Nuengdiao couldn't resist the allure of mystery that clung to North's camera. With playful curiosity, they leaned in, their eyes gleaming with mischief. "Come on, North," Daonuea teased, his voice a melodious lilt. "You've been pointing that camera at them all night. What's the story? Who are they?"

Nuengdiao couldn't help to chime in. "You've been staring at that group for quite some time, North," he remarked, his tone playful. "Any particular reason, or have you discovered a new muse? Are you working on a secret project, 'Strangers in Jazzland'?"

North, choosing to deflect their inquiries rather than reveal the complex emotions that churned within him, offered a sly smirk. "Oh, you know me," he replied lightly. "I’m just enjoying the atmosphere and the interesting characters in this place. Every face has a story, don't they?" North ended his answer with a wink.

Daonuea and Nuengdiao exchanged knowing glances but decided not to push further. Instead, they returned their attention to their own stories and laughter, content to let North keep his secret for now.

The night drifted on and the jazz melodies intensified, casting an enchanting spell over the bar. Couples swayed to the music, and the atmosphere resonated with an unmistakable sense of euphoria. North continued to capture the moments that unfolded before him—the laughter, the shared stories, and the stolen glances. Each photograph he took was a silent testament to the beauty of human connection and the transitory nature of happiness.

Meanwhile, Tinn and his group, blissfully unaware of the emotions churning within North, reveled in the enchantment of the jazz bar —a haven where their life's intricate complexities temporarily surrendered to the ether. Within those dimly lit walls, the magic of music and camaraderie wove a spell that transcended time and space. Each note played by the skillful musicians, each sip of their cocktails, and every shared laughter was a testament to the potent alchemy of this sanctuary—a realm where their spirit soared, where connections were forged, and where, for a fleeting moment, the world outside ceased to exist.

But as the final chords of the jazz band's performance crescendoed through the bar, North couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. The opportunity to bridge the gap between observer and subject had slipped through his fingers like sand. The encounters, the stolen glances, and the shared space seemed destined to remain as fragments of an unfinished story.

As Tinn and his friends made their way toward the exit, Daonuea and Nuengdiao exchanged meaningful glances with North, understanding the unspoken ache that dwelled within him. The night had been filled with music, laughter, and moments of magic, yet it had also been a reminder of the elusive nature of destiny.

North watched as Tinn and his friends vanished into the night, their laughter fading into the distance. He knew that the narrative he had witnessed would remain etched in his memory, a chapter of silent observation and unspoken longing. And as he took one last photograph—a shot of the jazz bar's sign bathed in soft neon light—he couldn't help but wonder if this night would mark the beginning of a new chapter in his story, a chapter where the observer became a participant, where the visual storyteller stepped into the frame of his own creation.

[To be Continued]

#my school president #23 Point 5 #geminifourth #northtinn #northnight #fanfic

[alternatepen]

Because What Else, After Nothing More?

An Epilogue by Tinn.

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[END] Note:

Gun blocked Tinn right after their parting

Tinn’s grammar was all over the place; it’s hard to think straight while crying, no?

09. went back to 00. :)

#fourth nattawat #gemini norawit #my school president #fanfic #angsty #geminifourth #tinngun #tinn x gun

[alternatepen]

Because What Else, After Nothing More?

11:42 PM, Sunday

The city lights were dimmed by a heavy shroud of rain-soaked clouds, casting a melancholic hue over Tinn's world. He had just left Gun, the man he had once called his high school sweetheart, standing in the pouring rain, their last encounter dripping with finality. The cold droplets clung to his face, blending seamlessly with his own tears as he walked away from the person who had once meant the world to him.

Tinn's heart ached with a love that still burned, an ember refusing to be extinguished. Deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that Gun still loved him too, but had made the painful decision to end their relationship, believing it was the only way to spare them both from further agony. It was a love that lingered in the unspoken words, in the way Gun's eyes had softened when they met for the very last time, in the slight tremor of his voice as he said goodbye.

Tinn didn't want to go back to his apartment, where every corner echoed with the fading memories of their shared laughter and love. Instead, he found himself drawn to the only person he could think of for solace—Tiwson, his best friend since high school, the one who had played a huge part in bringing Tinn and Gun together.

As Tinn approached Tiwson's doorstep, his steps felt heavy, as if the weight of a thousand regrets was pulling him down into the abyss of despair. His trembling hand knocked softly, fearing that even the sound of his desperation might disturb the fragile remnants of his composure. The door creaked open, revealing Tiwson's worried eyes. Without a word, Tinn stepped inside and allowed the tears to flow freely.

Tiwson, ever the understanding friend, closed the door behind him, enveloping Tinn in a warm embrace. Tinn's trembling body sought refuge in the familiar comfort of Tiwson's arms. It was as if, for a brief moment, he could escape the torment of his shattered heart, finding solace in the only place that felt safe.

The room was dimly lit, the only source of illumination being the soft glow of a floor lamp in the corner of his apartment's living room. Tinn and Tiwson settled on the couch, their silhouettes merging into one as they sat in silence. Tinn's tear-stained face rested against Tiwson's shoulder, and his choked sobs echoed in the room.

"It's over, Tiw," Tinn finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "I saw him today, and it was... it was like meeting a stranger. We're not the same people we fell in love with."

Tiwson's hand gently caressed Tinn's back, providing silent support. He understood the depths of Tinn's pain, having been the one who had witnessed their love story unfold from the beginning. The weight of Tinn's heartbreak hung heavy in the air, suffocating them both.

"I saw it coming," Tinn continued, his voice trembling, as he poured his heart out to Tiwson. His words were heavy with the burden of sorrow and regret. "We stopped fighting, stopped arguing, Tiw. It was as if we'd lost the energy to even care enough to disagree. And now... now it's over, and I don't know how to let go."

Tiwson's grip on Tinn tightened, as if by holding him closer, he could somehow shield his friend from the immense pain that threatened to consume him. His eyes glistened with tears he fought to contain, for he had watched Tinn's love story unravel from the sidelines, helpless to prevent the heartbreak that had now become a reality.

"Tinn," Tiwson whispered, his voice filled with empathy and compassion, "I can't pretend to understand the depth of your pain, but I want you to know that I'm here for you. You don't have to face this alone." His words were a lifeline thrown to Tinn in the stormy sea of his emotions.

Tinn's response was a choked sob, a desperate plea for solace in a world that had suddenly turned cold and unforgiving. As he buried his face in Tiwson's shoulder, he clung to the last remnants of a love that still pulsed within him, even as it slipped through his fingers like grains of sand.

Tinn's tears flowed freely, staining Tiwson's shirt with the anguish of his heartbreak. He clung to Tiwson as if he could anchor himself in the storm of emotions raging within him.

"I just wish I could have explained, Tiw," Tinn whispered between sobs, his voice quivering. "I wish I could've made him understand how much I still love him. It wasn't that I didn't care anymore; it's just... everything got so tangled up, and I couldn't find the words to untangle it."

Tiwson continued to hold him, his hand gently stroking Tinn's back as he listened without judgment. He knew that love was a complex tapestry of emotions, and sometimes the threads could become hopelessly knotted.

Tinn's words hung heavy in the air, carrying the weight of his self-blame and regret. He felt like a broken record, replaying all the moments he believed he had failed in his relationship with Gun. He buried his face deeper into Tiwson's shoulder, as if hiding from the harsh spotlight of his own self-criticism.

"I should've done more, Tiw," Tinn mumbled, his voice muffled by the fabric of Tiwson's shirt. "I should've loved him harder, like I did back in high school. I should've fought for us with everything I had, just like I did to win his love back then."

Tiwson's hand continued its soothing strokes, a silent reassurance that he was there to listen, to bear witness to Tinn's pain without judgment. He understood that Tinn was wrestling with the ghosts of his past actions, haunted by the belief that he hadn't done enough to salvage the love that had once been the center of his universe.

"Tinn," Tiwson whispered, his voice filled with compassion, "you were both different people back then. High school was uncomplicated. But life changes us, and sometimes, no matter how much you want to, you can't go back to the way things were. You loved him with all your heart, and that's something beautiful. Don't blame yourself for what couldn't be."

Tinn's grip on Tiwson tightened, his fingers clutching at the fabric as if it were a lifeline. He desperately wanted to believe that he had done enough, that his love had been enough to bridge the gap that had grown between him and Gun. But deep down, the nagging doubts persisted, like a relentless storm in his heart. He couldn't help but wonder if he had been the one to push Gun away, if he had failed to be enough, and if he would ever find someone who could replace the void left by the love he had lost.

Tiwson could see the turmoil still coursing through Tinn's veins, and his heart ached for his friend. With a compassionate look in his eyes, Tiwson asked softly, "Tinn, would you like a hot cup of chamomile tea? It might help you calm down."

Tinn nodded, his eyes red and swollen from crying, as he tried to regain some semblance of composure. "Thank you, Tiw," he whispered, his voice still trembling. He accepted the offer of warmth, not just from the tea but from the unwavering support of his best friend.

Tiwson went to the kitchen, preparing the tea with care, feeling a sense of urgency to bring back some semblance of comfort to Tinn's world. The kettle hissed and the tea bag steeped, releasing a soothing aroma that filled the air.

Returning to the living room with a steaming cup in his hand, Tiwson offered it to Tinn, who accepted it with a shaky but grateful smile. The warm ceramic cup felt comforting against his trembling fingers, a small anchor in the midst of his emotional tempest.

Tinn sipped the chamomile tea, its gentle warmth spreading through his body like a healing touch. As he held the cup, his thoughts spilled out in a jumble of words and emotions, directed at Tiwson but more like a dialogue with himself.

"I just don't understand, Tiw," Tinn mumbled, his words punctuated by sobs. "I thought I was doing everything I could, but it was like... like I wasn't enough anymore. I questioned myself, questioned my love for him. Was it not as strong as it used to be? Did I take him for granted? Why couldn't I see the signs earlier?"

Tinn's voice trembled with pain, each word echoing the haunting lyrics of the song that had become the anthem of his heartbreak. He continued, his words a desperate plea for answers, "I questioned myself, questioned my love for him. Was it not as strong as it used to be? Did I take him for granted? Why couldn't I see the signs earlier?"

Tiwson listened in silence, his heart aching for his friend who was drowning in a sea of self-doubt and regret. Once again, Tinn's tears flowed freely, his pain etched across his face as he confronted the harsh reality of his love slipping through his fingers. The room felt heavy with the weight of his self-blame, and Tiwson could only offer a comforting hand on Tinn's shoulder, a gesture of support in the face of his friend's agonizing self-critique.

Tinn's heartfelt confession laid bare the heavy burden of his perceived shortcomings, the missteps and uncertainties that he believed had paved the path to the unraveling of their once-unbreakable love. His voice wavered with emotion as he continued to pour out his soul, aching for answers to questions that seemed to have no easy resolutions.

He took a shuddering breath, the weight of his words pressing down on him like a crushing stone. "Am I a waste of love, Tiw?" Tinn's voice trembled with vulnerability as he posed the question, his eyes searching for some glimmer of reassurance from the universe, some flicker of hope amid the darkness of his self-doubt.

The room seemed to hold its breath, the rain outside falling silent as if nature itself didn't giveaway their response. Tinn's question hung in the air, a profound inquiry that begged for an answer to mend the fractures in his wounded heart.

Tiwson met Tinn's searching gaze, his own eyes reflecting a profound empathy for the turmoil his friend had endured. In that suspended moment, their shared history and unshakable bond spoke volumes. But instead of offering reassurance, Tiwson's voice carried a melancholic weight as he replied,

"Tinn," he began, his words a bittersweet lament, "sometimes love burns so bright that it leaves us with ashes of memories that never truly fade. You are not a waste of love, but sometimes, love itself can be a fickle and unpredictable force, and we're left to pick up the shattered pieces it leaves behind."

Tinn's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he absorbed Tiwson's somber words. It was as if a part of his heart had been laid bare, vulnerable to the harsh realities of life and love. He clung to those words, not as a lifeline, but as a pitiful reminder of the pain he had endured.

The room enveloped them in a cocoon of shared sorrow, while outside, the rain persisted in its melancholic serenade—a somber reflection of their emotions. Tinn's heart bore the weight of profound sadness, an acceptance of the scars etched indelibly upon his soul.

Tinn and Tiwson sat in quiet companionship, an unspoken understanding that the wounds of heartbreak were enduring and deep. They recognized that love, with all its erratic twists and turns, could sometimes leave them with memories that would forever cast their long shadows on the landscape of their souls.

[END]

#gemini norawit #fourth nattawat #TinnGun #my school president #geminifourth #angsty #fanfic

[alternatepen]

Chasing Northern Lights: Act 1

Bang Rak, Bangkok 2023

A few months had passed since Tinn's unforgettable winter escapades in the Arctic. The memory of Jökulsárlón's remote wilderness, where the Northern Lights had painted the night sky with their ethereal beauty, still lingered vividly in his mind. But now, he found himself in a vastly different world—a world of bustling streets, soaring skyscrapers, and the ceaseless rhythm of urban life that defined Bangkok.

For Tinn, the transition from the pristine landscapes of Iceland to the sterile confines of a medical school in the heart of Bangkok was a stark contrast. The bustling city, with its cacophony of sounds and the ever-present hum of traffic, felt like a world apart from the tranquility of the Arctic nights he had grown to cherish.

Ever since he had returned from Iceland and resumed his medical studies, Tinn had struggled to reconcile these two contrasting worlds. The memories of those Northern Lights, dancing in a celestial ballet above the Arctic horizon, continued to flicker in his mind like a distant dream—a dream that felt increasingly elusive amidst the demands of his rigorous academic pursuits.

One afternoon, as Tinn sought solace from his medical textbooks, he found himself in a cozy café nestled in the historic district of Bang Rak. The café, with its dimly lit interior and the soothing aroma of freshly brewed coffee, offered a welcome respite from the chaos of the city outside. It was a place where time seemed to slow down, allowing moments of reflection amid the whirlwind of life.

In that quiet corner of the café, amid the cozy ambiance and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, Tinn's mind was transported back to that magical night in Iceland. As he sat at a corner table, nursing a steaming cup of coffee, his eyes wandered aimlessly. The walls of the café were adorned with vintage posters, each telling a story of a bygone era. Among them, one poster caught his eye—a promotional poster for a photography exhibition at a nearby gallery.

The image on the poster was nothing short of breathtaking—a vivid display of the Northern Lights, their luminous colors swirling and twirling in the Icelandic sky. Tinn's heart skipped a beat as he gazed upon it, for it was an image he knew intimately, an image captured during that fateful night in Jökulsárlón when the Arctic had unveiled its celestial wonders. As he got closer to the poster, Tinn felt a surge of emotions wash over him. The memory of that unforgettable night in Iceland, the chill in the air, and the awe that had filled his heart—all of it came rushing back with startling clarity. He couldn't help but wonder about the photographer behind this captivating image and the stories it held. The image wasn't just a photograph; it was a portal to a world he had longed to revisit.

Curiosity piqued, Tinn followed the directions to the gallery after savoring the last sip of his coffee, the image on the poster burning in his mind. When he arrived at the gallery, he was greeted by a dimly-lit space adorned with photographs of varying sizes, each one a masterpiece in its own right. The soft limelights cast a gentle glow, turning the exhibition into an ethereal dreamscape. It was as if he had stepped into a realm where reality and artistry converged in perfect harmony.

The exhibition, titled "Aurora Dreams: The Dance of Light", was a testament to the photographer's skill and passion. Tinn's heart swelled with a sense of reverence as he moved from one photograph to another, each frame capturing the Northern Lights in all their mesmerizing glory. Each image told a story, whispered secrets of the Arctic night, and beckoned him to unravel their mysteries.

Tinn's eyes scanned the room until they landed on it—the photograph that had captured his heart and soul. It hung prominently on the gallery wall, framed like a masterpiece. The colors of the Northern Lights, the crystal-clear ice boulders, the black sand beach and his awestruck self were all there, a vivid reminder of that extraordinary night. As he stood there, transfixed, the memories of that Icelandic adventure flooding back. But something was amiss. Tinn realized that he was not alone in admiring the photograph. A small crowd had gathered around it, and among them, he spotted North, the photographer who had unwittingly captured him in that frame.

Tinn's heart raced. He watched as North, unaware of Tinn's presence, engaged in a conversation with an art enthusiast. They discussed the composition, the lighting, and the intricacies of capturing the Northern Lights. Tinn couldn't help but admire North's passion and talent, but questions burned within him.

Why had North chosen to capture that particular moment? What did it mean to him? And how had Tinn ended up as a part of this photograph?

He decided to wait, to approach North when the time was right. For now, he observed silently, intrigued and perplexed by the enigma that had unfolded before him. The gallery was a canvas of questions, and Tinn was determined to uncover the answers that lay beneath the surface.

Tinn finally mustered his courage to approach North, his steps carrying him closer to the captivating image that had drawn him in. He took a deep breath, ready to strike up a conversation and unravel the mysteries surrounding that fateful photograph. But just as he was about to speak, hesitation crept in like an uninvited guest. Doubt clouded his mind, and he found himself second-guessing his decision.

What if North didn't remember him? What if he was intruding on something private?

Before Tinn could make up his mind, another presence entered the scene. A well-dressed individual, who exuded an air of importance, approached North with a sense of urgency. They spoke in hushed tones, their conversation seemed intense and focused. Tinn felt himself fading into the background, unnoticed amidst the growing crowd of gallery visitors.

He watched as North's attention shifted entirely to the newcomer, leaving Tinn at a loss for words. The timing couldn't have been worse. As minutes ticked away, Tinn's desire to approach North battled with his newfound shyness. He felt like an intruder in a world he didn't fully understand—a world where photographers, artists, and art enthusiasts converged, their shared passion binding them together.

Finally, the conversation between North and the important-looking guest concluded. With a nod of acknowledgment and a gentle Wai gesture, North turned away from the guest and began conversing with others who had gathered around him, admiring his work and seeking his insights. Tinn was left standing on the periphery, an observer in his own story. He watched as North interacted with the art world, a world he seemed to belong to effortlessly.

The opportunity to approach North had slipped through Tinn's fingers, like a whisper of the Northern Lights vanishing into the Arctic night. Tinn couldn't help but feel a sense of missed connection, but he was determined not to give up. He decided to explore the entire exhibition, hoping to find more clues about North's work and, perhaps, a second chance to strike up a conversation later.

From North's perspective, the gallery was a hive of activity. He found himself engrossed in countless conversations with fellow photography and fine art enthusiasts, each one eager to delve into the depths of his photographs and the captivating portrayal of the Northern Lights. As discussions flowed like a river, North couldn't escape the persistent feeling of being watched, as if an unseen observer lingered in the shadows, casting an enigmatic gaze upon him. It was a disconcerting sensation, akin to the presence of an elusive phantom just beyond his grasp.

As the minutes ticked by, the attendees' attention became increasingly fixated on a particular photograph—one that seemed to hold a magnetic allure. Their curious inquiries about the significance of that moment, the very photograph that had serendipitously connected North and his solitary subject, swirled through his mind like the vibrant auroras that had graced the Arctic night. The questions surrounding the figure in the photo, frozen in time against the backdrop of the celestial light show, echoed with an almost neon-like brilliance of ruby red and emerald green hues. Amidst the sea of inquiries, North found himself yearning for answers as well.

As the gallery visitors continued to bask in the mesmerizing beauty of his work, North's keen eye detected a subtle yet purposeful movement within the crowd. Amid the soft, ambient lighting, a figure seemed to glide closer, gracefully weaving through the throng of people. It was a moment that caused North's heart to quicken its pace, an unspoken sense of anticipation coursing through his veins. In that instant, it felt as though fate itself had returned, extending a second chance—an opportunity to unravel the mysteries concealed within that photograph and the enigmatic individual who had been a part of it.

With bated breath, North watched as the stranger drew nearer, a world of intrigue and uncertainty unfurling before him once more. The gallery, once a sanctuary of art and creativity, had transformed into a realm of unexpected connections and unsolved mysteries. North was eager. He couldn't help but feel that this encounter was destined, a convergence of fates that had brought them together once more.

As the figure, who was none other than Tinn, drew closer to the brink of revelation, a subtle shift in the atmosphere took hold. It was as though Tinn had an innate sense, an acute awareness of North's palpable anticipation, which hung in the air like a charged current. In an unexpected twist of fate, Tinn abruptly altered his course, fading away from the gallery's confines like a phantom in the night. His exit left North with a cascade of unanswered questions and an enduring sense of intrigue that danced just beyond the periphery of his consciousness—a puzzle tantalizingly close yet frustratingly out of reach.

The photographer's gaze followed Tinn's retreat into the bustling tapestry of the Bangkok night, a golden opportunity to untangle the mysteries of that photograph slipping through his grasp once more. The gallery, bathed in soft light and teeming with artistic wonders, remained a labyrinth of unresolved secrets, each one intertwining with the next. North was left with an insatiable yearning, an unquenchable desire to decipher the intricate puzzle that had, without warning, woven itself into the fabric of his life.

Meanwhile, as Tinn ventured out into the city, his thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions. He had gazed upon the photograph that had immortalized that unforgettable Icelandic night, and he had stood on the precipice of confronting North, the elusive man behind the lens. Yet, something, something puzzling and intangible, had held him back—an inexplicable mix of shyness and uncertainty that had lingered like a veil between them.

As he navigated the bustling streets of Bangkok, the city's energy swirling around him, Tinn couldn't help but feel that their encounter had been a mere prelude, a tantalizing glimpse of a story yet to be told. The unspoken connection, the magnetic pull he had felt in that gallery, tugged at the corners of his consciousness. It left him with lingering questions and a sense of longing—an ache that whispered of untold stories and unexplored depths.

In the midst of the city's ceaseless motion, Tinn wondered if their paths would cross again, if fate would be kind enough to grant them another chance to connect and reveal the mysteries that lingered in the shadows of that photograph. The uncertainty of it all hung in the air, like a note in an unfinished symphony, waiting to be played.

[To be Continued]

#my school president #23 Point 5 #geminifourth #northtinn #northnight #fanfic

[alternatepen]

Chasing Northern Lights: Prologue

Jökulsárlón, Iceland 2022

It was a moonless, frigid night, the sky adorned with a myriad of starlights. Tinn, with his wide, doe-like eyes, could hardly believe that his venture hours and miles away from the comforts of his Reykjavik hotel had paid off. His heart brimmed with admiration as he beheld the mesmerizing display of emerald green and ruby red hues painting the dark canvas above. The Northern Lights, in all their splendor, danced across the heavens, a breathtaking spectacle that had only been a distant dream until this very moment. His breath formed a mist against his glasses, a testament to the cold and his sheer wonder.

On that very same night, the sky had chosen to clear up, offering North the opportunity he had been chasing for two long nights. He emerged from his rental SUV, having camped amidst Iceland's unpredictable weather. His friends had cautioned him about the challenges of capturing the elusive aurora borealis, especially given the ever-changing conditions. Yet, there he stood, bearing witness to the celestial ballet of lights with his very own eyes.

In the heart of Jökulsárlón, Iceland, where the frigid winds whispered secrets of the Arctic, and the stars adorned the night sky like diamonds, Tinn stood in awe. He, a mere medical student on a winter break, found himself chasing a dream as intangible as the ethereal dance of the Northern Lights.

As Tinn gazed skyward, the night transformed into a living masterpiece. The firmament shimmered with emerald greens and ruby reds, as though celestial deities were mixing their cosmic pigments on an otherworldly palette. The aurora borealis unfolded before him, a silent symphony of colors that swirled and twirled, leaving him breathless.

The surrounding landscape added to the enchantment. Crystal-clear ice boulders, sculpted by nature's patient hand, adorned the black sand beach like precious jewels awaiting discovery. These icy giants absorbed the vibrant hues of the aurora borealis, creating a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of colors. The conditions were ideal on this Arctic night—clear skies devoid of obfuscating clouds and a crisp, still air that seemed to amplify the enchantment. Tinn knew that such moments were rare and precious, bestowed upon him by the universe itself.

Standing there, entranced by the celestial spectacle, Tinn couldn't help but feel that this was a defining moment, an instant when the boundaries of his world extended far beyond the confines of his medical books.

And then, as if guided by the hand of fate, something extraordinary unfolded. North, the fine arts student who had dedicated his winter break to chasing the Northern Lights, raised his camera. With precision, he adjusted his lens, focused, and captured the moment with a click. He immortalized not just the aurora borealis but also the silhouette of a solitary figure gazing upward in sheer wonder. It was Tinn, the medical student whose dreams of witnessing the Northern Lights had materialized. Unbeknownst to Tinn, North had inadvertently captured this instant, immortalizing not only the celestial display but also Tinn's awestruck expression against the backdrop of the magical light show.

In that frozen moment, as Tinn stood bathed in the iridescent glow of the aurora borealis, North stumbled upon something he hadn't actively sought—a connection that transcended words, a magnetic pull drawing him toward the enigmatic stranger who had unknowingly graced his frame.

That night, the frigid icy dunes witnessed an almost-meet, an unspoken connection forged beneath the shimmering Northern Lights; the stage for a captivating tale of two souls embarking on a serendipitous journey of discovery and destiny had unfold.

[To be Continued]

#NorthTinn #NorthNight #GeminiFourth #My School President #23 Point 5 #Aurora Borealis #Fanfic #TinnGun

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[Super Hard Mode] Challenge: who of those two has had a full nights sleep and who stayed up until 3am paying his friends real money for crying on ig live?

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Chapter One: The Dinner?

Sushi Saito — Senopati, Jakarta Selatan

Seperti malam biasanya, Sushi Saito terlihat tenang dan senyap. Dekorasi minimalis serta suara alat musik koto yang mengalun pelan dari sudut ruangan membuat atmosfer restoran omakase sushi itu semakin intim dan membuat fokus para pelanggan ke hidangan yang disajikan. Hanya delapan pengunjung omakase yang bisa menyaksikkan keanggunan gerakan Saito-sama, salah satu chef sushi terwahid di dunia, menyiapkan 28 jenis sushi dan makanan lainnya dengan sempurna di malam itu.

Biasanya Sushi Saito Jakarta hanya direpresentasikan oleh penerus Saito-sama yang tak kalah handalnya dalam mengolah potongan ikan-ikan mentah menjadi sesuatu yang spesial, namun tidak untuk malam ini. Saito-sama sendiri yang menghidangkan mahakaryanya untuk tiga orang pelanggan yang membeli seluruh kursi di sesi terakhir omakase malam ini: Mark Pramantara, Natalie Wright, dan Gabriel Tan. Trio yang tak disangka Saito-sama mampu membayar puluhan juta untuk sebuah sesi eksklusif benar-benar mengagumi dan menikmati sushi mereka dengan mata berbinar.

Jemari Saito-sama bergerak dengan presisi dan penuh keanggunan mengolah tiap potongan ikan layaknya sebuah karya seni. Nasi sushi yang berfungsi sebagai kanvas, meningkatkan cita rasa tiap komponen yang ditambahkan; menciptakan keseimbangan rasa yang harmonis berdansa di lidah ketiga pelanggannya. Sentuhan ahli Saito-sama terasa dalam setiap gigitan, menjadi bukti dedikasi puluhan tahun dalam meyempurnakan tekniknya.

Irama pisau memotong ikan, aroma wasabi yang baru digerus, dan interaksi intim dengan Saito-sama menambah dimensi pada tiap hidangan. Suasana yang begitu syahdu membuat Gabriel, Natalie, dan Mark hanya bisa mengutarakan percakapan mereka dengan bisikan untuk menghormati keahlian sang chef.

"So what happened?" Natalie berbisik ke Gabriel yang sedang menyesap anggur merahnya. Mark yang sedari tadi melihat Gabriel tidak talkaltive seperti biasanya pun ikut memperhatikan percakapan antara pacar dan teman baiknya itu.

"What do you mean?" Gabriel berbalik bertanya seperti tak acuh sambil menyeka jarinya dengan handuk basah yang sudah disiapkan.

"What do you mean, what do you mean? Something is troubling you, even someone as clueless as Mark can see it." Natalie menoleh ke Mark, "no offense babe."

"None taken. Tapi jujur gua juga tadi sempet tanya ke Nat, Gab. You're not being yourself right now." Mark pun mengimbuhi pertanyaan Natalie.

Gabriel menghela napas pelan dan merasa sedang diinterograsi. Natalie Wright adalah salah satu sahabat baiknya sejak ia kecil. Walaupun mereka tinggal di belahan dunia yang berbeda, keluarga Natalie adalah sahabat dari Mama Gabriel. Jadi tidak heran bahwa Natalie sudah mengenal sang anak tunggal keluarga Tan itu luar dalam seperti layaknya saudara sendiri. Tanpa harus bercerita, Natalie bisa melihat suasana hati Gabriel dan memprediksinya dengan tepat.

"You guys know that I was supposed to attend an important 'dinner' with Joey's family as well, right?" Gabriel membuat sebuah tanda petik di udara pada kata dinner dengan jemarinya.

"Yeah, was wondering why you weren't there honestly." Mark menjawab mewakili Natalie.

"Well, long story short, I am not fond with all the guests. Except for Joey and his fambam yah." Gabriel menatap kedua pasang bola mata yang mendengarkan secara seksama.

"Gue ngerasa dinner malam ini lebih ke arah perkumpulan para penjilat. Dan kayaknya bakalan gue atau Joey yang membawa keberuntungan ke mereka, daripada sebaliknya." Gabriel sudah bisa membayangkan orang-orang yang akan berlomba untuk melobi Gabriel dan keluarga Joey menjadi salah satu investor bisnis berbau pencucian uang daripada sebuah bisnis yang menguntungkan.

"Whoa, that's harsh. Tapi bakalan banyak orang parlemen juga kan yang dateng? Bukannya koneksinya malah bagus buat lu?" Tanya Mark penasaran.

"Well... honestly some of them are okay, but most of them are shady as fuck. So yeah. Besides, I'd rather be here with my best mates daripada harus pura-pura sandiwara di depan mereka." Gabriel berusaha terdengar ceria meskipun dibalas dengan dengusan jengah Natalie. Perempuan yang lebih tua itu bisa melihat kepalsuan nada ceria Gabriel dengan mudah.

"Also, I've been feeling rather... unwell."

Natalie mengernyitkan dahinya, "unwell as in..."

"Yeah, I've been getting those flashbacks again. You know, the infamous LA incident." Seketika ekspresi Gabriel murung kembali.

"Oh Gab. Are you okay?" Natalie meraih lengan Gabriel dan mengusapnya dengan lembut. "Hey, it's okay if you don't wanna talk about it, though."

"LA incident yang mana beb?" Mark berbisik pelan ke telinga Natalie yang hanya dibalas dengan tatapan setajam mata elang.

"Haha that's alright Mark, kayaknya Nat belum cerita banyak ya? Sorry it's kinda complicated." Gabriel hanya memaklumi reaksi Natalie ke Mark barusan. Sepertinya rahasianya aman, ia harap.

"Bro, kalo lu butuh cerita brother to brother, just let me know lah. You're not a stranger to us." Tawaran Mark hanya dibalas tawa yang tawar oleh Gabriel.

"Kalo lu mau, besok malem kita driving range lah di Pondok Indah! Ajak Joey sama Peter sekalian. Daripada murung mendingan kita pukul-pukulan biji pake stik golf ya gak." Pemilihan kata-kata Mark yang terkadang tidak beres dan tak tahu sikon kontan membuat Natalie dan Gabriel tertawa pelan namun geli.

"Okay okay, deal bro." Gabriel mengajukan fist-bump ke Mark yang langsung membalas.

Baru saja Natalie ingin melanjutkan pertanyaannya, Saito-sama memotong mereka untuk hidangan ke-26; sebuah quenelle yuzu sorbet dengan serpihan emas di dalam mangkok gelap yang kontras dengan hidangan pencuci mulut itu. Tidak ada perbincangan lagi antara trio itu, melainkan mereka sekarang berbincang dengan sushi chef yang mengakomodasi dengan hangat.

Bukan hanya makanan semata, hidangan Saito-sama malam itu adalah perayaan tradisi, kemahiran, dan perjuangan untuk kesempurnaan. Setiap suapan mengandung tahun-tahun dedikasi, hasil dari kerja keras yang luar biasa yang melampaui piring dan meninggalkan bekas yang tak terlupakan dalam memori gastronomi ketiga pelanggan malam itu.

[To Be Continued]

this is a narration from an AU I’m writing on twitter, kindly read the whole thread via link below 👇🏻

#alternate universe #bahasa indonesia #fanfic #fourth nattawat #gemini norawit #my school president

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Chapter One: Welcome "Home"

Gunawarman, Jakarta Selatan

Di tengah pelukan malam Jakarta yang mulai sepi, sebuah siluet rumah bertembok pagar tinggi dengan beberapa pohon palem menjulang menyapa Gabriel saat ia membelokkan mobilnya di tikungan. Walaupun memiliki desain kontemporer seperti persegi yang dibangun dengan perpaduan kaca, kayu, dan beton, rumah itu terlihat menyatu sempurna dengan lingkungan Gunawarman yang rindang dan teduh.

Cahaya lembut rembulan yang menyinari arsitektur fasad rumah Gabriel seorang seolah-olah memberikan ketenangan bagi inderanya yang sudah lelah. Rasa kantuk dan kabut halus menyelimuti pikirannya sepanjang perjalanan, efek samping tipikal dari obat penenang kecemasan yang tidak lagi asing untuknya. Semua peristiwa yang terjadi hari ini, termasuk hal bodoh yang ia lakukan di Asian Literature pagi ini, terasa seperti mimpi dan asing.

Saat gerbang otomatis rumahnya terbuka dengan pelan, pohon-pohon rindang, palem yang menjulang, dan fasad rumahnya menyambut kepulangan Gabriel. Cahaya hangat dari beberapa lampu taman yang menerangi halaman depan rumahnya terlihat sebagai lampu penuntun mobilnya, membuat hati Gabriel merasakan kerinduan untuk masuk ke dalam pelukan hangat rumahnya dan menanggalkan segala lelahnya. Tubuhnya merindukan kasur empuk dan selimut kesayangannya dan gagasan untuk segera berbaring terasa seperti sebuah oasis di gurun pasir. Dengan hembusan napas lega, Gabriel menghentikan sedan BMW abu-abu miliknya persis di selasar rumah.

Well, we're finally home, huh. Gabriel mematikan mesin mobil dan mengantongi dompet serta ponselnya.

Daun pintu dari kayu pohon jati utuh berdiri megah di depan Gabriel selayaknya gerbang menuju kemewahan yang tersimpan di baliknya. Kunci elektronik yang Gabriel pegang membuat gagang pintu itu bercicit pelan dan mekanisme kunci di dalam pintu terbuka. Pemuda itu tersenyum pelan saat ia melangkah masuk, lampu-lampu temaram di foyer mulai menyala perlahan secara otomatis menyambut kepulangannya.

Sebuah lukisan minimalis karya Lee Ufan berjudul "From Line, No. 760219" menghiasi foyer dengan garis-garis biru yang melintasi kanvas, membuat sebuah gerakan dinamis namun memberikan ketenangan dalam waktu bersamaan. Sapuan pigmen kobalt tersusun dengan simetri yang sempurna sepanjang batas atas kanvas layaknya kain tipis yang melayang-layang menelusuri permukaan lukisan; perlahan menjadi tidak beraturan dan seolah-olah menguap menyatu dengan kanvas. Mata hitam Gabriel sungguh menikmati lukisan yang mereka menangkan dari pelelangan Sotheby's London beberapa tahun silam. Ia masih ingat wajah bahagia papanya saat mereka bisa mengalahkan kurator seni seorang bangsawan Swedia yang tidak kalah sengitnya berjuang untuk mendapatkan lukisan maestro asal Korea itu.

Langkah kaki jenjang Gabriel menggema dengan lembut di dalam rumah megah itu, menandakan kesendiriannya. Ia melangkah dengan gontai ke arah ruang tamu rumahnya dirangkul oleh cahaya lembut dan redup. Sebuah set lampu menggantung seperti permata yang berkilauan memancarkan sinar hangat yang menyoroti kemewahan minimalis ruangan itu, menciptakan aura intim yang elegan. Gabriel pun menghempaskan badannya di sofa kolosal yang berada di tengah ruang tamu, penat yang merundungi mentalnya terasa lebih kuat daripada yang ia rasakan secara fisik.

Ia pun merogoh kantong celananya dan mematikan mode terbang pada ponselnya. Seketika ia melihat lima missed-calls dari sang Ayahanda beserta iMessage yang menanyakan keberadaan dirinya. Dengan satu sentuhan ia membuka pesan itu dan mulai membalasnya.

[To Be Continued]

this is a narration from an AU I’m writing on twitter, kindly read the whole thread via link below 👇🏻

#gemini norawit #fourth nattawat #my school president #alternate universe #fanfic #bahasa indonesia

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because jojo is a menace to the society

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You can spend the night here. I'm not expecting anything. HIDDEN AGENDA Episode 6

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I might just be a masochist, I'd let you eat me alive