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#*cue the sound of a thousand dads clapping and cheering for my joke*
godsofhumanity · 4 years
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Set: Oh please, you wouldn't hurt a fly.
Bastet: You're right. Because a fly is an innocent creature that never knowingly did anything to anybody. You, however, I would maim :)
Set:
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anwenwrites · 4 years
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My Own Best Friend—Chapter 1: Buried
This is an original work I have been writing for a year. It is the sequel to a novel that I started in high school, but you don’t really need to read the first one to understand this one. I’ll probably post the first one eventually, but for now I wanted to roll these chapters out as I wrote them. I’ll alternate between this and my Open Heart fanfiction!
Summary: Duncan King swore that he would never return to his childhood hometown in Australia. Yet somehow nine years later he ends up back in Sydney, only to make some painful discoveries about his mother that leave him with more questions than answers. Duncan's detective friend and mentor, Sukarno, who hails from the forests of Borneo, must help him crack the case. Meanwhile, Nadya Setiawan's father keeps her on a tight leash as she and Duncan grow closer than ever, and Nadya's best friend, Mikha Lestari, is overcome with grief and confusion after her first relationship suddenly ends, which leads to conflict between her and Nadya. While separated from each other, all three must learn to overcome a challenging time in their lives alone, and more importantly, to be their own best friend. Written in three points of view. DUNCAN POV
I’ve left it buried for long enough. 
The memories, the pain, the uncertainty, the heartache of simply not knowing. Whatever happened to Mom’s belongings after she died? Her house? Her ratty old pickup truck that always smelled like her favorite air freshener? Uncle Jacob—rest his soul— and I had cleaned out her stuff the last time we were in Sydney, but then returned home to Canberra only to realize her favorite jewelry was missing. In our rush to prepare for her funeral, we must have forgotten. That day is still burned into my memory like the most painful third degree burn. I told Mom at her grave that I was sorry her landlord’s smoking killed her, and then swore I was never, ever going back to Sydney.
Except apparently Charles’ smoking also killed him, and now I was going back to Sydney. Today was supposed to be just a normal day. Wake up, eat breakfast with Rasi, go to work at Orangutan Rescue Project, and train the little orangutans to fend for themselves. That’s what I had been in the middle of doing this morning when my manager, Rinaldi, came out of his office to tell me there was a phone call for me.
I don’t remember much of the conversation aside from the woman on the other end saying, “Your mother’s former landlord has died, and he has left the house to you in his will.” The woman sounded kind, in her late fifties, and like she had made calls like this thousands of times. “Track down Emily King’s son, and tell him the house goes to him. All my money, as laughable of a sum as it is, also goes to him. I’ve got no one else in my life to give it to, and I saw great things in that boy. Great things. I quote him directly,” she continued. 
I’m not exactly sure how Charles’ lawyer tracked me down. Or what I’m going to do with the house. Or how Charles even remembered me in the first place. After all, I was just a depressed thirteen-year-old the last and only time he saw me. But I told the woman I would book my flight tonight and let her know when I would be there to see the house. Then I got off the phone and hit a stick against a tree for about ten minutes, simply dreading it all. Dreading seeing the house, the dilapidated scrap of a building that held so many painful memories. When I swore I was never going back, I meant it. Or at least I meant to mean it. 
My friends and I have lunch outside by the front entrance of ORP. I don’t say much during lunch; I only watch my friends, feeling a little outside of myself. Mikha is absentmindedly twirling her shiny black hair around her finger, barely touching her food. Nadya is sitting to my right, looking at me with concern in her eyes. We’ve been close for so long that she can read me like a book without me even saying anything. I’m not sure what we are, but we’re something, for she rests her tiny body on my shoulder. The fabric of her pink hijab tickles my arm. Across from me, Rasi is sloppily eating a bowl of noodles, and Eric struggles to open a bottle of soda.
“What’s the matter, Duncan?” Mikha asks me. “You’re quiet today.” 
“He’s probably just quiet because Sukarno’s at his other job today,” teases Rasi. “They get pretty rowdy when they’re working together.”
Mikha sticks her tongue out at him. “You’re certainly one to talk. Look at you and Eric!”
Right on cue, Eric finally manages to open his soda, spraying it all over Rasi. 
“Hey!” Rasi complains, dumping his cup of water over Eric’s head. The two immediately begin chasing each other around. 
“Is something bothering you, Duncan?” asks Nadya. “If you have something on your mind, you can always tell us.”
“I got a phone call earlier this morning,” I say. “My mom’s landlord died, and he left the house to me in his will. So now I’m going to take a trip to Australia, to fix it up and sell it.” 
“Did you know the landlord?” asks Mikha. 
“I only met him once, right before Mom’s funeral. He was quite a heavy smoker. But apparently he had no one else to leave the house to. At least that’s what he said in his will.” 
“Wow,” says Nadya. She squeezes my hand. “This must be a lot for you to take in, Duncan.” 
“What must be?” Rasi reappears, Eric right on his heels. 
Mikha fills them in, and their mischievous smiles disappear. 
“Gosh, I’m sorry, Duncan,” says Rasi. “If you need to talk, I’m sure Natasha would be happy to help.” Natasha is his older sister who just moved back to town last month after completing her training to become a therapist. 
“Thanks,” I say. “I gotta admit, I’m pretty shaken up.”
“But at least you’ll make some extra money off the house,” says Rasi, clapping me on the shoulder. 
“How long will you be gone?” asks Eric. 
“I’m not sure,” I answer. “Hopefully it doesn’t take long to sell the house. But I honestly don’t know who would want that crappy thing.” 
“You could fix it up into a vacation home for yourself,” suggests Nadya. 
“I don’t know,” I say. “Lots of painful memories there.” 
Nadya frowns. “I understand. Ever since my mom died, my dad never took me back to her favorite restaurant. Even though it was my favorite too.” 
“I’ll take you there.” I smile at her. She rewards me with a smile in return. 
“We should all go!” Rasi exclaims.
“Yeah!!” Eric yells. 
“Can’t wait,” says Mikha, though she looks down at the grass as she says this. She hasn’t been herself since she and her ex-boyfriend Arif broke up last week.
“Are you suuure you can’t wait?” says Rasi, nudging her. 
“Yes, yes!” Mikha rolls her eyes and gets up. “I’ve gotta go back to work now, if we want to get out early enough to go out to dinner.” She packs up her barely-eaten lunch and hustles into the office. 
“What’s with her?” whispers Rasi once she’s gone. 
“She’s been having a hard time since she and Arif broke up,” says Nadya. “It was her first relationship.” 
“Perhaps a night out will cheer her up,” says Rasi. “I don’t like seeing her sad.”
“You just don’t like having to be the happy one,” jokes Eric. 
Rasi mock punches his arm. “Oh, would you like to be the happy one?” 
“Get me into pilot school,” says Eric. “Then I will be.”
“Guys, guys!” Nadya laughs. “We can all be the happy ones. We have each other!” 
“This,” I say. “I like this.” 
“Will you text Sukarno and ask if he can come to dinner tonight?” Rasi asks me. 
“Sure will. Hopefully he’s not too busy working on some case or something tonight.”
“I’ll text Natasha too!” Rasi pulls out his phone.
“You know, considering how much Sukarno hates people, I’m surprised he chose to be a detective of all things. He has to work with a team,” says Eric. 
I laugh. “The way he sees it is that someone has to keep the bad people in check. And he’s the perfect person for the job.” 
“Well, we’re definitely safe with him around,” says Nadya. 
“If only he could have been around to keep Iwan in check,” says Rasi. 
“And Amy,” adds Eric. “Can’t believe that was two whole years ago. Now Mikha’s dad is our boss, and he’s the coolest ever. Some of the staff are...quite annoying”—Eric narrows his eyes at the twin girls, Naila and Yasmin, who bat their eyelashes and wave at him from across the lawn— “but at least no one here is evil now. Except for Dominic. That giant red ape almost flattened me against a tree the other day!”
Rasi rolls his eyes. “Only because you didn’t approach him properly.” 
“Oh, please,” says Eric, shoving Rasi. “Patrick and Carrie distracted me!”
“Sure, whatever,” says Rasi. 
My phone buzzes. It’s Sukarno, confirming he’s on for dinner tonight. 
“Sukarno’s coming,” I say. “We’ll swing by his office and pick him up after work.”
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