It's Not Sleep That Makes Me Dream, But You
Chapter 12: Distributed

Adit can not be disturbed today, he was busy practicing drawing hard, to the point that it was taken to school. As a result, he was quite good at stealing the attention of the students in the class. He really wants to be a comic writer. Looking at my partner who is serious like that, I want to try more class. Okay de, I'll start writing the comic script.

"Today I should be able to finish one chapter ..." I taught myself.

During the day after school, I busy myself with writing comic script installments. I have the determination that today I have to write something, as little as one chapter. I try to concentrate and just focus on the blank white sheet in Microsoft Words while hoping today is a productive day for me after the last few days just ngisi free time to slack off - the malasan, maen games and cool on social media.

I was determined to promise myself to change my bad habits to be more productive. Promise not to laze, do not rely on the mood when writing, and do not procrastinate ideas that have been piled up in the head.

"From today, I'll write it all down!!" I encourage myself. Sitting leisurely in the study, both palms are on top of the laptop keyboard. His eyes focused on the blank sheet of Microsoft Word on the screen, and his brain was already imagining the scene by scene of what I wanted to write. With a single breath of seriousness, steadily, I began to write.

Just now he wrote a few words, suddenly HP rang. Someone called, making my concentration split. At high speed, this hand immediately grabbed the HP located on the study table, right next to the left hand.

"Hello." I answered the phone quickly.

"Riyan, aren't you busy? We're hanging out yuk ! In the usual place." it was the sound of Flowers, my classmate who was home in the area here.

he called me to hang out in a normal place.

"okay." Without further ado and lots of questions, I immediately received an invitation from Bunga. After changing clothes, I left immediately.

And this is where Bunga and I sit, in a simple coffee shop subscription Flower. I and Bunga sat facing each other enjoying their respective orders. I ordered iced milk coffee, while Bunga ordered an ice cappuccino latte.

During the day like this, in the middle of the hot air, it is suitable if you spend time relaxing while enjoying a cold drink.

"Gilak, it's so hot today, it's not like usual." Complain Bunga, he still wears a high school uniform, and again he does not wear a skirt, but instead wears trousers that should be worn by boys. A guitar bag was stuck to his back.

Once finished training with members of the music extracurricular, Bunga immediately headed to this place without going home and change clothes first.

I stared at the air conditioner on the wall, right above the barista who was busy working on coffee. The indicator light on the device is on, the color is green, a sign that the air conditioning device is still functioning properly.

"Yes, even though the AC is on, but it still feels really hot." I said while watching the air conditioner.

The purpose of Bunga ngajak I to the Watermelon cafe is actually not just to nemenin he relaxes just free time, but he has another purpose.

In recent days Bunga again confused, he usually menggebawain other people's songs every time filling music shows with his band. Flowers want their own song.

He said, just now in the music room, Bunga had tried to string the tones to make a song. Thanks to the help of one of his friends, he finally succeeded. But unfortunately, Bunga can not write lyrics.

Oh, yes, this flower is one of the members of the musical exkul, but he did not join the school band because he had his own band outside of school.     I used to fit still in 1st grade I ever won a short story race and poetry representing the school, kept everyone in the class ngangep I nulis. That's why he needs my help to fulfill his goal of creating a song.

"Where? Good not the tone?" After humming in front of me, I asked.

"Good, good to hear, sweet." I, nod. The tones arranged by Bunga emang already delicious in the denger, I feel amazed by Bunga and his friend.

"Yes right? But it's a pity there's no lyrics yet." His complaint. "Help me yes, you can write. " hereinafter.

"Lo want what kind of lyrics?" Ask me, intending to help.

Flowers seemed confused, he squirmed towards the ceiling of the cafe while thinking about what he wanted to express in the song. "Hmm... How is it?" Flowers think hard. The half-tomboy girl was thinking about what she wanted to say in the song.

He told me, originally when he had the idea to make a song, Bunga wanted a bad song, which told him about the breakup. But the tones he composed with his friend sounded like a song about happiness, sounding cheerful in the ears. Ghosts alone are not suitable if the lyrics are about sadness.

"Disturbed song, huh? Hm..." I kept quiet and started thinking about something.

"Gue initially thought he wanted to write a song upset, people like that song." Interest, expressing the idea. "But the tone is like this, very cheerful. Not suitable if it is a bad song... " The flower looks sullen, it's pessimistic.

"If you haven't tried, how do you know." I cut. "Gue asked for a paper with a pen pinjem!" Pint me on Flowers.

Bunga took a notebook and pen from his guitar bag, yes from his guitar bag, he naroh, a school recording of one place with his favorite guitar. He did not carry a backpack or a tote bag, he only brought a guitar and a notebook to school, every day too. According to him, extracurricular music is more important than subjects.

After receiving the paper and pen from Bunga, I was ready to start writing, I was really serious. Sometimes I glanced at the flowers. He looked at his own smile while propping up his chin with both palms. I think he was both happy and curious about what I was going to write.

I try to think of sad things in life, whether it's bad luck in romance or bad luck in other things.

the more I concentrate, the more I get the light of inspiration. I have heard a saying from a famous author through a video on Youtube. In the video, the great writer says, "Good work comes from self-restraint." Remembering that sentence made me try to pour out some anxiety.

Olivia's figure suddenly appeared in my head again as I tried to think. In fact, deep down, I still wish I could contact Olivia. But unfortunately I forgot my new save number Olivia and already deleted the number, a bit messy.

Actually, if you want, I can ask for Olivia's phone number again through Facebook, but if you think about it, it would be a shame. Because he has a girlfriend.

After pondering for a while while thinking about Olivia, I suddenly smiled then immediately wrote something down on the blank sheet in the book that was in love with Flowers.

"Have you started getting anything?" Flower said as I squirmed that I began to write, her lips slowly carved out a smile.

"Yep. But just a little bit, this is the ref-yeah-yeah." My hand scratched the ink from the pen seriously, moving along with the soft flowing feeling.

I write with a smile. Sometimes I hum while writing, to match the lyrics and tone.

A few minutes of writing, I finally finished the lyrics. I pointed the paper with the lyrics to Flowers.

"Try you singin use the tone that you just made, it must be suitable." I said, sure.

"OK on." With a single breath, Bunga tried to sing it while playing the guitar.

" We should still be friends, who can never love each other. And let our story be a memory, one I can never forget."

I made up his words well and in accordance with the tone arranged by Flowers. Some of the cafe visitors who were there were seen smiling to enjoy the sound of Flowers singing, they felt a little entertained by the song of the half-tomboy chick.

At his desk about two meters from my seat and Bunga, the barista was seen giving a thumbs up to Bunga with a smile, a sign that the song is good.

Bunga replied by saying to the barista, "He who wrote the lyrics !! " He spoke in a rather loud voice so that the barista could hear his voice. The flower speaks while pointing its index finger at me. The barista simply responded by giving his thumbs up again and resumed his work.

The lyrics I wrote were only for the ref part, for a while we have not specified the lyrics for the intro and the autro.

But that is not a problem for Bunga, at least his song already has lyrics, even though only the ref part at least Bunga knows the picture of what the song will be like.

"Thank you, Riyan. Finally find the lyrics too even though it's just the ref part, later the rest I continue alone." Flowers were delighted, she thanked Me while holding one of my hands with both palms of her tank.

"It's not in vain that I brought you here." Further.

I smiled faintly and said briefly, "Yes." I just stared at Bunga with a flat expression as one of his hands was crazily swayed by his two palms.

I can feel the palm of the hand feels rough, unlike most other girls who usually have a smooth palm.

I feel that Bunga really tried hard in the field of music.

Finished with the affairs of the song, the two of us continued chatting casually as usual while enjoying each other's drinks. Flower's forehead was drenched in sweat, he occasionally fanned himself with a notebook.

It was really hot today . In the middle of our conversation, suddenly Flower acted like an important person after she wriggled her watch. "Well, it's like this at this hour, I have a promise to my mom to shop." He said he put the guitar in his bag.

I was busy drinking iced milk coffee so quite confused.

"Hmm...?"

After putting the guitar in the bag, Bunga then got out of the seat and said briefly to Me. "Bye." 

Then drank a little of his late coppucino ice before finally leaving. I who was still sucking the iced milk coffee casually then stopped, continuing to squirm Flowers that had arrived at the entrance and entrance of the cafe, before finally actually leaving.

"He hasn't paid for the message yet." I said.

Connect ...