Bebegigs
Chapter 42's

While remaining in the darkness, Yasa let out a sigh while his eyes were fixed on the exit he had passed by earlier, watching the Orange that walked out of the Greenhouse.

While his lips formed a smile, he stepped out of the darkness and approached Orange. "You're finally out too. That kid's okay, right?"

"Yes, he's fine" said Orange, rushing over to Yasa.

They began to walk across the night market field, avoiding children who ran to and fro, passing groups of teenagers from the city and intrigued by the idea that the night market was open.

They walk past the game stand-stand. The orange pulled Yasa to a stop in front of the drink and food stall. "I want Sno Cone" said Orange. "The blue. Which one do you want?"

Yasa's face looked disgusted. "No, I don't want to. Don't want anything." I want you, he said in his heart.

Orange pulled out ten thousand money from his bag, approaching the queue. "Aren't you wondering why there's no blue food?" tanyakanya. "I always eat a blue Sno Cone" he continued, not giving Yasa a chance to answer, "because this is the only real blue food found in the realm of life."

he waited for Yasa to laugh. But because the guy did not respond, Orange finally said he was just joking.

Suddenly, Yasa looked confused, as if he had not heard anything that was spoken by the orange.

They walked past the children's rides, a small train circling in a small circle, jet planes that shot nearly two meters above the ground while circling, and the laughter of happy little children.

Orange is enjoying its Sno Cone. "It doesn't feel blue" he said, offering Yasa a taste of it.

Yasa refused, then smiled widely while looking at the face of Orange. Blue lips. The ice makes the lips blue.

He looked dead, he thought. It's dead, and I haven't even had a chance to kiss it today.

The blue-orange lips mocked him, teased him, tortured him.

I had to take him to a quiet place, he thought, his mouth very dry, dry and scaly, dry as dead.

I have to try again.

And this time I have to succeed.

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"Well, you're afraid to bring vinegar?" ask Magenta's father from the living room.

Magenta stopped at the door, slightly jerking. "Ah—Yah's. Not sleeping?" he asked back and forth, nervously clutching the bottle he was holding.

He was actually impatient to rush to the market that night, but he could not just run out. He stood up patiently while his father watched him with his eyes squinted while lowering the book he was reading into his lap.

"What do you do with vinegar?" repeat father.

"Make it. eradicate weeds for sure" he said, grinning the horse.

"Malem-malem?" timpal his father in a satirical tone.

"Ng—no, that's.. there's a friend asking." Magenta lied.

"Temen from the next village, just met at the malem— market"

he felt bad lying to his father. But there's no way he's telling the truth, "I'm going to root out the guy who's dating Orange." There's no way her father would believe her.

Who's gonna believe it?

His father beckoned with his hand-forget it!

Magenta shrugged his shoulders at a glance.

"Don't stay up!" His father warns when Magenta hastily opens the door and says good night while walking.

The door closes behind him.

"I can't believe I'm doing this" he muttered to himself.

He remembers Yasa once saying that he was allergic to vinegar.

Now Magenta began to understand why he avoided vinegar.

Not an allergy, he thought. His weakness.

Vinegar is his weakness. He had no idea how the vinegar would work. But he was sure the vinegar would prove something.

That way, the orange will believe it.

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"Where would we ride a windmill?" asked Orange, throwing the ice-cold paper cup into the trash basket, rubbing her blue lips with the back of her hand.

"okay!" exclaim Yasa. Too soon. Too enthusiastic.

Orange laughed, astonished at Yasa's reaction. "You like the Ferris wheel? What doesn't make you dizzy?"

"No," said Yasa, walking towards the rotating Ferris wheel at the front of the field near the parking lot. Short queue. They don't have to wait long. "I like to be on high, it feels like I'm flying."

"We can see the curve from the top" said Jingga, responding to Yasa's enthusiasm. "And all parts of the city."

"When I was a kid, I liked to pretend I could fly" said Yasa, his finger playing with the ticket. The queue is moving forward. "I continued to plunge my hands over the trees. The other kids fucked me, but I don't care. I pretended I could fly as far as them."

"Funny," said Orange, "I can imagine the time of the children."

Actually he did not mean to be serious, but Yasa seemed to be jolted at the words. For just a moment he frowned, but it was long enough for Orange to be able to see the hurt feelings in his eyes.

Half-running, half-walking, Magenta headed to the field where the night market was held.

As soon as he stepped into the white glow of the full-power incandescent lights, his eyes noticed the swerving, swirling, tumbling, screaming and screeching vehicles bursting into his ears.

The night market seemed to be melting in a fog of white light.

he held on to a pole to keep his body balanced.

After looking around for a little more, at a glance he saw the orange and Yasa who were joining hands, queuing at the place of the Ferris wheel.

With his hands trembling with tension, Magenta quickly slipped the bottle of vinegar behind his body, hid it into his jacket, stepped vigorously through the Ferris wheel, his eyes searching through the crowd.

A group of small children ran quickly ahead of him, scrambling to reach the next vehicle, and almost hit him to fall.

Someone stepped in front of him, blocking the scene as he tried to focus his gaze towards the Orange.

"Sorry," said a woman's voice after a few meters from him.

While remaining beside the food stall, Magenta moved somewhat closer and searched around again. And again. la refocused the view, moving a bit closer, making sure the Orange and Yasa had not disappeared.

Orange suddenly looked up. Magenta again ducked down to the side of the stall.

Did the orange see it?

Hesitatingly his head looked out from beside the stall, observing the orange.

No. gabe. The orange turned to Yasa.

he would say something, to apologize, but the operator of the Ferris wheel, a fat man with greasy hair, wore a long-sleeved sweatshirt that covered only half his stomach, tell them to get on the rides that have been waiting for it.

The orange leapt into the wobbling carriage, then turned around and helped Yasa up by pulling him up. Yasa looked at her uncertainly, then sat leaning against the plastic seat, which was still warm to the former passengers before. The seat belt is crossed on their thighs.

Magenta doesn't want to be seen. He knew Yasa would soon guess what Magenta meant. Magenta shaking. No one could say what Yasa might do to prevent Magenta from obtaining evidence about him.