To You, The Hero

Brief To The Past

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A year ago....

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"What are you doing, ayah?"

The father halted. Those hands that were folding clothes stopped as well, as the older male turned his head over his shoulder to see a young child peeking behind the door.

"Oboi? Are you still not asleep yet?"

The child shook his head, came out from behind the door, and went over to the father. The son's hazel eyes stared at the half-full duffle bag, filled with various stuff other than folded or rolled clothes.

"Seriously, ayah. What are you doing?"

"Eikk?" The dad continued on packing his clothes. "Didn't mak already tell you? We're going to the stars!"

The younger make deadpanned. "Ye pun, you want to lie at your own son, make a reasonable lie, lah."

"Ehhhh, it's not good of you to accuse your own father! We're really going to the stars!"

"Ye lah, I believe you. Are you going with Pak Cik Pian?"

"Oh, of course— NOT!" The man hastily said at the end. "Why would Pian follow me and your mom? He got a job here, so he must stay here on Earth just like you!"

"..."

"Yeah, hahaha..."

"..."

"Cuz he's totally not a mysterious superhero like me...."

The child scoffed. "¹Ye pun nak kelentong."

"Hahaha...urgh.... HAH! Oboi, why are you still not asleep yet?"

"Just want to see you. I'll be going to Tok Aba's home tomorrow. Why are you still packing? I thought mak already did it for you."

Then the man sighed, his shoulders slumped down before he picked up one of the numerous clothes he had discarded from the bag.

"She did," he lifted a soft pink coloured shirt, with a cute green cartoon monster plastered on it. "But do you think I'd wear this? How did I even get this anyway?"

"Hehehe, ²terbaik~," the boy snickered. He skipped toward his father, and the older one wondered how his son could have such a light and barely audible steps. "Mak likes that shirt, so she said she bought it for you."

The father rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Hmm. Bought it for me, but the one who wears it is her." Then, he added on. "Remember, Oboi. Don't be like your mom. Always wear your dad's clothes—"

Just when he turned to look at his child, his very own flesh and blood had clad in one of his shirts. The boy sat cross-legged on the floor across his father and seemed content in his action.

"Ah, yeah, ayah? What are you saying?"

"..." The man sighed. "You're lucky you're cute."

The boy tilted his head, silently staring at his father for a brief moment before averting his gaze towards the open window. The night sky with stars twinkled like fairylights, as if they were accompanying them for the night.

"...do you really have to go?"

The father paused. He stared at his nearly full bag. He opened his mouth before he found himself closing it again. After a moment of thought, he finally found the words he thought it might be the best.

"... sometimes, my son, people are fated to the sky. We might be born into this certain place, but sometimes, that birthplace isn't the one where we fated to be," he took a deep breath. "There are times when we are meant to do something more at the sky rather on the ground."