The Boy and The Bus to Hell

The boy.
I bet he is younger than me.
Looser type, tanned, die-hard smoker.
His eyes are red, deep red, looks so tired furthermore. He's wearing a green cap, white tees under a mosaic hoodie, and washed light blue jeans. He is looking at me, with a slight curious sight. I don't give a damn. He's just another passenger.
I'm feeling like knowing him. The way he sips his cigarette, the way he plays his fingers nervously. I'm really sure I have never met him before, he is just unknown for me, but somehow.......... he's just different with the others.
He can't barely stop playing his fingers nervously. I look at his plastic bag. Yes, he's bringing a black plastic bag which you guys can get it from a traditional market in Indonesia. It's fully loaded with cans. No, not regular cans, airbrush ones.
So, is he a vandal? I don't know either.

I catch his eyes right now. Looking at me curiously, full of questions. He approaches, I give him a big grin.
"So, what's up?" I open the conversation.
"What bus is this? I've been trying to figure this bus out, but I still got no idea."
"Really? How come? You don't realize how you get here?" me, asking him back.
"No, I can remember nothing. Can you just tell me? I got to go somewhere right now and I think this bus won't take me to my destination".
"This is the bus to the hell", I tell him clearly with a calming smile.
Silent, he says nothing.
"Oh, that's why this bus is so empty, right? I'm the only one who will be in hell, while everyone will be in heaven", he cries.
I can say nothing. I'm just a bus co-pilot. I know nothing about hell.
"Well, I don't know" I answer quickly.
"Oh crap, you know what, by this time I should do something... but now I'm on my way to hell" he cries again, looks terrible.
"What should you do?"
"I...... want to make a graffiti. Nice one for someone who gets my heart. Tomorrow will be her birthday. I want to make that as her birthday's present".
"Is she really important for you?"
"This girl is different. I and she, we are both different. She's pretty, lovely, bright, while I'm... you know, opposite attract".
I look into his red eyes, deeply. Even in those bloody eyes, I still can see a very big... hm, love.
.....
"Can we stop here?" I ask the bus driver.
"Stop?" the Mr Bus Driver gets confused.
"Yes, I think he's just hitchhiking. He should go somewhere first".
The Mr Bus Driver stops the bus. That boy cheers gloriously, "Really? I can get back to my life?"

I give him a kick from the bus. Everyone deserves a second chance, right?

***


"Boy, are you alright?" a voice, sounds familiar. I open my eyes slowly. White room, clean, antiseptic smell.
"Where am I? Is it a bus to the hell? Am I still on the way to the hell?" I get up with a really bad headache.
"What are you talking about, dude? You're in hospital. You got an accident. A very great one. A truck hit you and your motorcycle. Luckily, you are okay. Doctor said that you were so blessed that you could still be alive" says Jazz, one of my best friends.
I smile, remembering my dream. About the bus co-pilot, the bus driver, and about the bus. I suddenly remember about the reason why the bus co-pilot kicked me back to life.
"Can I go for a while?" I plead.
"Ha? For what? You should stay here and take a rest".
"No, tomorrow will be her birthday. You know it, Jazz. I should make the birthday present"
I get on my sandals and wear my green cap.
I take a walk, through the night. I bring the airbrushes.
I don't care about the doctors and nurses who's calling for me right now.
I don't care about the confused Jazz.
I don't care about my wounded legs.

I got a second chance, I should not let it go, I should make it.


inspired by one of my good friends.