The morning sunlight broke through the ventilation slots, creating lines of dust dancing in the air. The wall clock read eight in the morning when Thomas blinked, waking up from a sleep that felt sounder than usual this time.
He did not get up immediately. His body still lay quiet, his eyes staring straight at the ceiling of his dorm room—dull plywood that was moldy and had a small hole in the corner. A view that usually made him feel miserable.
But this morning, the feeling was different. His mind floated back to his last conversation with Mr. Rudi by Lake Kenanga. The old man's closing sentence still rang clearly, as if just spoken this second.
"You were evil because you were 'asleep', and you were 'asleep' because you were hurt."
That sentence struck deep. It made sense. It made perfect sense.
All this time, Thomas had hated himself, considering himself a monster who was defective from birth. But Mr. Rudi helped him trace the source of that murky river. He remembered Mr. Rudi's analysis of his family.
"That explosive thirst for validation... that isn't purely evil, Thomas. It is hunger. Your soul is starving for acknowledgment."
This understanding did not immediately erase his sins against Dimas. The fact that Dimas was paralyzed and his heart broken remained, heavy and real. However, the understanding of the "chain of wounds" gave him a little room to breathe. He stopped seeing himself as a demon born from nothingness; he was just a human who had strayed very far because he looked for food in the wrong places.
Thomas took a long breath, then smiled faintly. His chest felt much lighter this morning. The burden of "sin transaction" he had forced upon himself—that he had to suffer to pay for his mistakes—he slowly began to let go.
Since his college schedule today was only one class, at two in the afternoon, Thomas decided not to waste time. He would work as an ojek (motorcycle taxi) driver until twelve. His savings were thinning, and although he had applied for a scholarship, the announcement would only come out in the second year. Until that time arrived, the hot asphalt of Depok was his source of life.
Thomas rushed to shower, washing away the remnants of sleep with refreshing cold water. Shortly after, he was ready with his work "uniform": a thick black jacket, faded jeans, and a helmet with a slightly scratched visor. He grabbed a spare helmet for passengers, then stepped out of the room with new spirit.
The roar of the motorbike broke the silence of the alley as Thomas sped his vehicle toward the ojek (motorcycle taxi) base near the Kukusan Teknik gate.
"Morning, Sirs!" Thomas greeted loudly as he parked his motorbike. He opened his helmet visor, revealing a fresher face.
On the long wooden bench shaded by a cherry tree, Mr. Budi, Mr. Arya, and several other senior ojek drivers were enjoying black coffee and morning fritters. Cigarette smoke puffed lazily in the air.
"Oh my, the model student has arrived," welcomed Mr. Budi while chuckling, shifting his seat to make room. "No morning class, Thom?"
"Empty, Sir. Going in later this afternoon," answered Thomas while placing his helmet on the motorbike tank.
Mr. Arya, a middle-aged man who was usually quiet, stared at Thomas closely while sipping his coffee. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"You look different today, Thom," Mr. Arya remarked suddenly.
Thomas turned, slightly surprised. "Different how, Sir? I feel like I haven't changed my face wash."
The men laughed crisply.
"Not that," Mr. Arya smiled wisely. "Your face... it's a bit brighter. Not folded up like an unironed shirt. Looks lighter, more alive."
"Yeah, that's right!" Mr. Budi chimed in while patting Thomas's shoulder. "That's how it should be, young man, you should be spirited. Don't be gloomy all the time, or fortune will have a hard time coming."
Thomas was stunned for a moment, then a sincere smile bloomed on his lips. It turned out the change he felt inside—the result of self-acceptance after the long session with Mr. Rudi—radiated to his face.
"Ah, you're just saying that, Sir. Maybe because it's the start of the month, Sir," joked Thomas, covering his emotion. "Thanks though, Sir."
The morning chat continued warmly. Thomas felt accepted. Here, among these simple men, he wasn't Thomas the arrogant genius, nor Thomas the sinner. He was just Thomas, a comrade in the struggle to make a living.
One by one, the senior ojek drivers began to leave the base as passengers arrived. Mr. Budi got an order to take a student to the station, Mr. Arya took a school child. Before long, the base was quiet, leaving Thomas on standby on his motorbike.
Five minutes later, a lady with a large shopping basket stood confused on the roadside.
Thomas alertly straightened his body. "Ojek, Ma'am?" he offered friendly, without a forcing tone.
The lady turned, looking relieved. "Yes, Sir. Can you take me to Kemiri Muka Market? But my groceries will be quite a lot when we return."
"Absolutely, Ma'am. Let me help hold the basket," answered Thomas politely, handing over the spare helmet with two hands.
Thomas pulled the gas slowly, carrying his passenger cutting through the Margonda streets. The sun began to rise, road dust began to fly, but Thomas's heart felt calm. He was ready to face this day.
***
The atmosphere of the Calculus II class that afternoon felt so solemn, the sound of a marker squeaking on the whiteboard filling the room. Twenty students sat transfixed, their eyes fixed on Prof. Erik who was drawing a three-dimensional graph skillfully.
Thomas sat in the middle row, taking notes neatly. Today's material was quite heavy: Applications of Definite Integrals to Calculate Volume of Solids of Revolution. For most students, imagining a solid slice rotated around the X-axis or Y-axis was a spatial nightmare.
"So, if we rotate this region R around the line x = -1, we cannot use the standard disk method. We must use the cylindrical shells method," said Prof. Erik, concluding his explanation by putting down the marker. He turned to face his students. "Understood so far?"
Silence. Some students nodded hesitantly, most looked down avoiding eye contact, afraid of being pointed at.
Prof. Erik smiled faintly, a smile that signaled a challenge. "Alright. Since it seems you need a brain warm-up, I'll give you one difficult problem. Whoever can solve it in front correctly and explain the flow, I'll note their name for an additional assignment score of 10 points. Not bad to patch up your quiz scores which are... concerning."
Instantly the class atmosphere turned tense. Additional points were treasure in this "GPA killer" course.
Prof. Erik wrote a complicated function, with integral limits that were tricky.
"Go ahead. Who dares?"
Thomas stared at the whiteboard. His eyes narrowed, his brain working fast dissecting the problem. In less than two minutes, the framework of the answer was already formed in his head.
However, his body remained motionless.
In the corner of his eye, he saw Kevin, an ambitious student sitting in front, step forward with confidence. Kevin started writing, but on the third line, he got stuck. He erased, wrote again, then erased again. His face turned red.
"Sorry, Prof. I'm stuck," Kevin said finally, giving up and returning to his seat with a sluggish step.
"Anyone else?" challenged Prof. Erik.
Thomas squeezed his pen. His hand wanted to rise, it was his natural reflex as someone who used to be crazy for validation. But Chelsea's voice from the past suddenly buzzed in his ears.
"You're just an empty arrogant robot... You make others feel stupid just so you can look great."
Thomas's heart beat fast. He was afraid. He was afraid that if he stepped forward, he would again enjoy those admiring gazes. He was afraid that the sense of superiority would surface again, turning him back into a monster who looked down on others. Better to be silent. Better to be invisible, he thought.
But then, he remembered his midterm score which was barely passing because he had to split his focus with working as an ojek driver. These ten points weren't for showing off, but for surviving in this campus. His scholarship needed a stable GPA.
This isn't about ego, Thom. This is about necessity, he convinced himself.
With a slightly trembling hand, Thomas raised his arm. "Me, Prof."
Several heads turned. Bernard nudged Farhan, whispering proudly. Prof. Erik nodded. "Go ahead, Thomas."
Thomas walked to the front. His feet felt heavy, as if the class floor had turned into mud. He took the marker, took a deep breath, and started writing.
He wrote quickly but carefully.
However, when reaching the integral limit substitution part, his hand stopped. He realized something. Wait, if rotated on this axis, the lower limit must be shifted. The answer in his head earlier was wrong.
Before, Thomas would have panicked. He would have felt his dignity destroyed if he made a mistake in public. But now, he actually felt relieved. He was a normal human, he could make mistakes.
Calmly, he erased the last two lines. "Sorry, Prof, I was wrong in determining the radius. It should be subtracted by one, not added," he murmured, more to himself, then fixed it.
Done. The final result was written neatly at the bottom.
Prof. Erik observed the board for a moment, then nodded satisfied. "Exactly right. You were keen to see the axis shift, Thomas. Most students get trapped there."
The sound of applause was heard. Initially only from Bernard, Clara, and Farhan, then followed by almost the entire class.
Thomas turned to face his friends. He awaited that intoxicating euphoria—the feeling of "I am the king" he used to seek. But that feeling didn't come.
What he felt was instead... a warm relief. Simple. He was happy he could solve the problem, and he was happy his effort was appreciated, not worshipped. There was no desire to say, "Easy, right?".
"Cool, Thom!" exclaimed Bernard soundlessly while giving a thumbs up.
Clara smiled widely, clapping enthusiastically. "My friend is indeed cool!"
Thomas smiled faintly, bowed politely to the lecturer, then returned to his seat. His steps felt lighter. I am safe. I didn't become arrogant, he thought gratefully.
"Okay, for next week's assignment," Prof. Erik's voice broke the small commotion, "Please do number 1 to 5 from the textbook page 56. Submit it on my desk before 12 noon."
"Ready, Prof."
***
As soon as the class dispersed, Thomas packed his bag slowly. However, as he suspected, the trio had already swarmed him before he could stand up.
"Hey, Thomas," called Bernard, his face pleading. "Let's do this Calculus assignment together, please. Swear, when Prof. Erik explained earlier, I only understood 'Good Afternoon' and 'See You'."
Farhan laughed, but nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Thom. We didn't understand the cylindrical shell concept at all. Help us, okay?"
Clara looked at him hopefully. "Help us dissect just one problem for an example, after that let us try on our own."
Thomas fell silent for a moment. There was a cold fear creeping up his neck. Teaching others was his biggest trigger back then. Before, he would always lose patience if others were slow to understand, then toxic sentences would come out like, "Can't you even do something that simple?"
Can I teach them without looking down on them? asked Thomas to himself.
Seeing the hesitation on Thomas's face, Clara hurriedly added, "If you're busy or want to rest first, it's okay, Thom. Some other time."
"Uh, no," cut Thomas quickly, not wanting to disappoint the only friends he had. "I... I can. When do you guys want to do it?"
"How about right now? At the library while the brain is still warm," suggested Bernard spiritedly.
"Yeah, come on," chimed Farhan.
Thomas took a deep breath. This was the real test. "Okay then. Let's go."
The Central Library that afternoon was quite crowded, but they found an empty table on the second floor facing the lush UI trees. They took out their notebooks.
"Okay, try number one first," said Bernard. "This is rotated around the Y-axis. Means use dy right?"
Thomas looked at Bernard's work. Totally wrong. Bernard used the area formula instead, not volume.
Thomas's blood rushed. His old instincts screamed: Can't even do that simple thing! Acidic words were on the tip of his tongue, ready to be fired.
Thomas closed his eyes for a moment. Hold it. Remember Chelsea. Remember Dimas. You are not that person anymore.
He exhaled slowly, swallowing back the poison.
"Almost correct, Nad," said Thomas softly. His voice controlled. "But if you use dy, you have to change the function to x = f(y) first. Try looking at the graph." Thomas pointed at Bernard's drawing with the tip of his pen, without snatching the paper. "If we slice it horizontally, the shape becomes a disk, not a cylindrical shell. It's easier if we stick to dx but imagine this like onion layers being peeled."
Bernard frowned, thinking for a moment, then his eyes lit up. "Ah! Oh, right! Onion layers are vertical following the Y-axis! Damn, I get it!"
"There, that's it," said Thomas. A strange feeling bloomed in his chest. Not satisfaction from being smarter, but happiness seeing his friend understand.
"How about this one, Thom?" asked Clara, handing over her paper. "I'm confused determining the upper limit."
Thomas looked at it. Clara miscalculated the intersection point. Basic algebra mistake. Once again, Thomas held himself back from rolling his eyes.
"Try checking again when you factored x^2 - 4x, Clar. Looks like a minus sign got left behind," corrected Thomas gently.
Clara examined her calculation, then slapped her own forehead. "Oh my god! The minus became a plus here. I'm so careless. Thanks, Thom!"
"Relax, take it slow. The important thing is getting the concept," answered Thomas.
The sentence just came out. Take it slow. Thomas was stunned himself hearing it. Before, he would have used this to look better. Now, he had just done a good deed.
An hour passed. Thomas succeeded. There were no subtle sarcasms, no showing off intelligence. Only peer discussion helping each other.
"Crazy, thanks to you, I feel a bit smarter," grinned Farhan while stretching his back muscles. "Thanks, Thom. You're a cooler teacher than Prof. Erik."
Thomas smiled, this time a sincere smile reaching his eyes. "You're welcome. I also understand better because of reviewing the material."
"Alright, let's head out. I have a futsal appointment," invited Bernard packing his books.
They walked out of the library together. At the footpath intersection, they parted ways.
"Go ahead, Thom! Be careful on the road!" Clara waved her hand.
"Yo, see you tomorrow!"
Thomas stood for a moment watching his three friends' backs moving away. He looked at his own two hands. The hands he used to use to hurt people, today he used to help. It felt... calming. The burden of guilt on his shoulders lessened slightly, although he knew his road to redemption was still very long.
It was late afternoon, the sun shining golden through the gaps in the leaves. Thomas decided not to go home immediately. He needed quiet to absorb the small changes in himself today. His feet stepped toward the Lake Kenanga area.
The afternoon breeze blew coolly on the edge of the lake, moving the water surface with small ripples. From a distance, Thomas saw the figure he was looking for on the usual park bench.
Mr. Rudi. The middle-aged man sat casually facing the lake, and at his feet, a brown village dog sat quietly with a loosely tethered chain.
Thomas sped up his pace, half-jogging to approach them.
"Hi, Sir," greeted Thomas warmly.