W A K T U
2 | Edgar and Milk Chocolate

The sound of the television in the morning was quite disturbing. The sound of the newspaper fluttering and Father's Swamp Chirping clashed with the news anchor on television. Water from the bathroom. The sound of frying from the kitchen.

This morning was quite crowded in a calming noise.

"Edles!! When do you want to sleep?! Cepet wake! At seven o'clock, the sun is up! Edeeell!!"

For this one, I retracted my previous sentence.

Mother's voice did not calm me down at all, "Bentar, Bundaa.. It's just gonna wake up, kokk...."

I pulled back (forced) the blanket that wrapped around my body to cover the crown. The six o'clock sunshine file is very disturbing, "But... A moment more.." for a moment I muttered softly before a fine snore adorned my crying face while sleeping. Ja. This is, right, Princess. So, it must be syantik.

Mother with a waist, "Ck. Edgar woke up from dawn! You are so big it is still built. Edell.. Busty awake!! You don't want to go to school?! Take a shower! Keep eating!"

Then I heard her step away from the room.

Wait for.

Whahuh?

Mother was ... said Edgar?

Not that Edgar has...

TWOAKK!!

I held onto my slightly bruised knee after hitting the edge of the mattress cot. Apparently, this is the real definition of the word 'sick but not bloody'.

I still grimaced holding my knee while hardening my hiss, hoping that my mother would turn around and bring me anything to make my knee better.

"Scr.. Aww...," I still glanced down the hallway to the kitchen.

Before a hand(?)—or what is it, a clearly moving small object holds my knee-length pants. Pull it slowly, "Sister Edel? Sick, huh?"

That sound.

No. gabe.

Not likely.

"Sister? Ed laper's. Come eat," I turned to the source of the sound.

A small man with a pure white body and adorable stocky cheeks. His hands were opened wide, "Ed wants to carry,"

Oh, dearGod. I want to cry.

I immediately opened my arms wide as the small body walked towards me. I smiled cheerfully, playing her cheek for a moment before lifting the body slowly, "Ututu.. Ed laper, huh? Here and there,"

The two corners of the lips formed a perfect arch. That adorable cheek moved up and down, Edgar giggling as I tried to tickle his stomach.

I was laughing too. Edgar is too sweet and adorable for her at the moment.

Before the scattered laughter stopped right in front of the responsibility-sized mirror hanging in the middle of the hallway.

"Russia ... What date is it now? What year?" I asked with my chin moving towards Edgar and eyes still glancing at the mirror.

I imagine you will be confused by frowns watching me ask about the world of dating an older boy.

I know it.

But Edgar was different.

This child is used to waking up before dawn and waking up mother to brew chocolate milk every morning.

Edgar also always remembered about the hour, day, date, month, even the year when 'this'. When children his age just take the day for them to play and the night for them to sleep, as well as Sunday for a walk to the city park, play ball, and buy cotton candy.

Ah, smart kid. He had even understood the basic math lesson I had been taught five years ago. Whether inspired by where, Edgar always understood every object and theory that was echoed around him.

"Sister?" Edgar tapped softly on my cheek, "Sister Edel? Now two thousand years .. eleven?"

Edgar frowned at the confusion of seeing my reaction which might have been a little more exaggerated than I had thought. Maybe my eyes are glaring almost out or my lips are wide open.

I was looking for a calendar hanging on the wall. Ah, right, 2011.

Well, now, now,

PLEASE TELL ANYONE IF THIS IS A DREAM!

Why does everything look so realistic?

Huft, it looks like today will be a long dream.

"It's not wrong, is it?" his tone sounded softly in my sling.

"No, brother just finished the dream," I smiled, again pinching Edgar's cheek.

"Well, I think there was something that Mother told me to take a shower and keep eating, but even toys here,"

Okay, mom's voice looks creepy for the greetings in the morning. And, I've had a shower. Mothers who are too negative-minded.

"Pet eat!" the Queen's Order. We limped towards the dining room.

At the dinner table, the rice was fossilized in the stomach and the side dishes left oil on the plate.

Edgar was still focusing on the milk chocolate and paper airplane toys he had just made out of pamphlet paper.

Between the tea and the chocolate milk, my father sipped his tea. Before his hand was raised, he made us smile. I always tell stories in the morning. About anything. Starting from the presentation of the Indonesian economy to the clowns on the television show we watch. Dad told me with great spirit. We—aku and Edgar— caught it with sparkling eyes.

Should I say I miss this sight? With beams of sunlight and leaves that scour trembesi trees in the middle of the city. With Edgar who was gibbering because his toy I accidentally nudged. With all the smell of a morning that is too warm.

Honey, this is just a dream

.

.

.

"Morning,"

A voice made me smile clumsily - between being fed up and not knowing what to reply to her in such a way, "Hi!"

Katarine put her bag in front of my stool. As always. Ah, I was wondering. Of all the dreams in the sky, why must it be today? Why should this place? Why should—

Imagine, from the entire sine graph in your life, now is the 270° angle! The lowest angle whose value is minus.

Why should this place?

Argh, it's like scratching the wall but the wall says he's not itching.

Ah ah, dark.

"Good morning, children" Mr. Darto began this morning with a faint smile. The teacher was too young and patient to teach a class with some students who were over-energized, "Anyone who didn't do the assignment yesterday?" the greeting of the two almost made my heart slip.

"Eh," I whispered to the tall student sitting on my right, Vivin," Elo—you mean, you've done your job?" tanyaku carefully.

Vivin nodded doubtfully with a gaze peeked all over my body. So arrogant. I think I asked the wrong people.

Ah, yes! Pak Darto is the type of teacher who always matches tasks by discussing them in front of the class. If I continue to advance to the front of the blackboard, he will not doubt that I have done the task.

I raised my hands high.

"Yes, Edelweis?" Mr. Darto lowered his glasses. Ouch, handsome.

"A-anu, Sir. S-I want to do the job, hehe," I turned to scratching my nape. For some reason, the good looks made me nervous. Hey, you're a plain 3rd grade elementary school student!

"Ah, great. Let's advance!" said inviting.

"Edles? Why even dumbass?"

"A-anu, I forgot about it, sir,"

At that time I wanted to throw myself into the flagpole.

.

.

.

Sports lessons when the sun hangs form a 0° angle with your head. I thought you'd agree with me too if I said it wasn't too well done.

My temples are full of sweat and my stomach has been snoring for the past five minutes.

"Catch her!" a ball followed after the sound echoed on the field.

I was thinking too much to the point that the ball landed right on my forehead. It hurts but doesn't bleed.

Wait for.

I looked back. Silver car parked quietly. The car belonged to Ms. Ida, the vice school principal who was coarse and disciplined.

The car is still asleep.

I was too busy taking care of all the memories that woke up from the forehead until the blood that quietly flowed from my forehead did not feel sore.

If today is reality, it's more or less like this.

Today is a sickening Monday. Katarine was angry because I didn't say anything back in the morning.

I did not do the task of Mr. Darto because of the material at all-not-understand. Then, my friends with reverence and stifled laughter saw me stammering to sing the song Indonesia Raya.

The other day, my desk locker was full of paper shreds that were like this:

"Basic of an outcast!"

"Haha, feel it!"

"It's good not to have friends?"

And a dozen other rubbish words. I am glad I am patient, Tq.

And that day grew fed up with the last lesson, the sport. I who was confused to bring the ball here and there did not realize there was a ball that passed me towards the silver car owned by Ms Ida.

The car rang incessantly.

Ms. Ida ride apitam.

I was invited to the coldest room in the school, "Why can you dream about having a ball hit by Mom's car?" his voice was always a few octaves above average.

Oh, goddamn.

It was a really shit Monday.

"Edles? The edelweis? You okay?" the muffling sound came out of nowhere as the voice of Bu Ida faintly disappeared.

Is this heaven?

Mr. Darto breathed a sigh of relief when he found out I opened my eyes. So, in heaven is there Pak Darto too?

Waw.

"It's ... heaven, huh?"

I immediately pursed my lips as the classmates laughed at my previous words.

Fucking lucknut friends! I call Saitama kelar too, lo!

Ck, it hurts too.

I felt something stuck in the temple.

"Ck, don't take it off" this time Valen spoke up. The little girl re-attached the plaster to the temple.

Today, I smile with relief. The happiness that is confused between the fact that today is not as bad as before and the fact that my situation is not as sad as it should be.

To the extent that I forgot that the previous two words 'reality' were just a dream.

.

.

.

Edgar's smile faded when he found a large plaster stuck to my head. The child frowned in a peeling style like an adult.

I grieved briefly at his behavior. Before a small run came closer to him. I squatted to match his height that had not even reached the number of one meter.

"Big brother why?" a classic question came up this afternoon. Edgar was always diligent in waiting for me on the porch when the prayer arrived and the young man always knew that I would come with him.

"So the ball, keep the jatoh," I said mimicking his style.

Edgar clicked and his hand raised to my forehead, "This is Edgar auxiliary,"

That tiny hand nimble also grabbed my plaster. His free hand pulled out the milk box from behind his back.

Slowly he put a straw into the box. I thought he'd drink it up the toilet or split it in half with me.

But sometimes I forget Edgar is just a four-year-old boy.

He did not drink the chocolate milk. He sprayed it all over my plaster surface.

"Edgar had seen in tipi if all wounds can be treated with chocolate milk!"

Hesemeleh, hesemeleh. Vomit my rainbow, Dek.

Doggone.

Edgar's hand was about to grab my forehead. He'll stick it back on my forehead.

I'll go inside the house immediately. Before my wounds got worse with chocolate milk contaminated with Edgar's words.

Edgar did not lose his mind. He ran after me. After not getting to me, he fell.

Then, (pretend) crying, "Huwaaaa!!! Motheraaa!! Brother Edel nakallll!"

Come mother whose hobby scolded me if Edgar why-why.

Okay, I grabbed a tissue and plucked it in peanut sauce. It feels good enough to cover your sense of wanting to escape into isekai.

🐾🐾🐾

Tbc.

No one has a kayak Edgar?:v whose behavior is pretentious like an adult but strange magical bin.

Let's both make a society of hurt brothers/hiks/

Morning greetings as warm as Edgar's milk chocolate, please,

Lara.