BEHİND THE CAGES (ENGLİSH VERSİON)

This is a gift I wrote for a story on Ao3. I'll leave the link below. It's a bit different than the regular story, because I've never mentioned Yaya, Ying, Fang, or Gopal on my blog. So, you'll see the septuplets, not them.

I won't go into much of the plot, because I have to get to the fan theory part. But a warning: suicidal thoughts (and, of course, suicide), I don't know what to call it, but I guess I could call it kidnapping, forced imprisonment, obsessive and compulsive characters.

Behind The Cages:

Boboiboy was as happy as a 14-year-old child could be. He had school, friends, Tok Aba... what more could he want?

The septuplets had been his friends since elementary school. The septuplets — Halilintar, Taufan, Gempa, Blaze, Ais, Duri and Solar.

Of course a lot of time had passed since they first met; they had all changed. But in the end they were still friends, almost like the siblings Boboiboy could never have.

Their friendship developed seamlessly until they entered high school.

On the first days at their new school something unexpected happened. While walking the school corridors, Boboiboy encountered seven youths who could be called copies of the septuplets. The only difference was that they looked more... extraordinary, more... perfect. Also, they seemed out of place compared to the rest of the school.

Although Boboiboy thought they were guests that day, he realized he was wrong. If not that day, he had the chance to meet them in the days following at school.

As chance would have it, those seven youths were brothers too — septuplets. Don’t even ask how the two groups of septuplets looked at each other.

Over time they grew closer— so close that this new group started paying more attention to Boboiboy. They seemed to want to know everything about him.

The septuplets— Boboiboy’s elementary-school friends whom he’d come to treat like brothers — were uneasy, though not exactly jealous. They were not comfortable with those seven youths orbiting around Boboiboy, yet they couldn’t make sense of it. This... was an unusual friendship. After all, they had often heard other students at school whispering about them.

Then that terrible day came.

For whatever reason, when Boboiboy was left alone at school, the other seven youths — Voltra, Beliung, Kristal, Nova, Blizzard, Rimba and Gamma — put their plan into motion.

Unaware of everything, Boboiboy felt relieved when he met them, thinking he wouldn’t go home alone, but their plan was altogether different. When they called him with polite but poisonous smiles, he sensed something was up and, listening to his instincts, he ran. But where could he go?...

Thus began his dreadful puppet-like life.

He tried to escape, rebelled, resisted, cried, cried a lot... But was there anything he could do? No.

For days in his sleep he murmured his home, his friends, his neighborhood. He was so hurt that he never addressed the seven youths by name again. When he spoke to them it was in an emotionless tone, as if speaking to a wall or an inanimate object.

But none of that gained him anything. Nothing. And how long could he pretend to be devoid of feeling? He, like any person, was full of emotions. He was hurt, disappointed, and at the same time he missed things... Everyone must have wondered about him, worried.

But those fools thought home, hearth, and the items he loved were all there was. They thought love could be conveyed by giving him everything he wanted.

They were emotionless creatures who didn’t even understand the letter “l” in love! Couldn’t they see that their obsessive, even beyond-love feelings were harming him?

He had said this. In his early days there he had insulted them, belittled them, ignored them, and repeatedly wrecked that perfect but sterile-feeling room prepared for him.

Each time with their poisonous politeness they’d say, “You disappointed us,” and begin the speech Boboiboy hated to hear.

“This is for your own good; the world is harmful to you, you are too delicate, you can’t survive outside, you’ll die... You should be grateful to us for doing this.”

“Damn it, I want to live!” he wanted to shout. “I want to deal with life’s hardships like any person, to struggle. To fall, flounder, even get hurt and heal my own wound. I want to feel poverty on my skin at least once!”

But was there anything he could do? No. Did he have the courage to oppose what they said? No. No sane person would want to die by Voltra’s lightning sword, be crushed by Beliung’s wind, or be burned in Nova’s fire.

He didn’t want to die either — not because he loved life, but because he didn’t want to die at their hands. And most likely they wouldn’t kill him outright; they would give him enough pain to bring him to his senses.

Boboiboy endured, endured, endured... He bore it for years. He ate what they wanted, drank what they wanted, dressed how they wanted, slept when they wanted, did what they wanted... But in the end he had had enough.

He turned exactly twenty. The things he was forced to leave behind in childhood were no longer the same, and anyway Boboiboy had no hope of ever seeing them again. He only wanted to bring those seven psychopaths to their senses.

It was simple, but it took a bit of courage.

When night came and he withdrew to his room — or should I say was locked in his room? — he took nine sheets of paper from a stack on a shelf of the bookcase and began to write.

It took him some time to finish them all, but except for one that he wrote considering their politeness rules, the rest were pure, unadulterated feelings. So he didn’t even bother much with them. If he did, it was to make them as harsh, hurtful and cutting as possible.

Only one thing remained: to act.

It was unfortunate he couldn’t find anything sharp in his room. He needed to finish this quickly and end it.

He scanned the room again, but there was not a single pointy or sharp thing in sight (had they done that on purpose?).

Aha... but there was something that could be sharp, wasn’t there? A mirror.

When he threw a heavy figurine he had at the mirror, it shattered into pieces. He picked up a sharp shard that fell to the floor. His eyes flashed with sadness for a moment.

“Tok Aba, Ochobot, my friends... This is for you...”

He knew that in a little while he would be dead. But he felt so relieved that it was indescribable. At last he was doing something by his own will and thus would be freed — forever. Now it was their turn to think.

...

“Oboi! Oo, Oboi! Time to wake up.”

Kristal knocked on the door again, eyes narrowed. Boboiboy should have opened the door by now. What the hell was he up to again?...

An angry but controlled sigh escaped his mouth as he reached for and pulled the doorknob.

But the door didn’t open. It was locked.

The half-broken smile on Kristal’s face disappeared. This was too much! What right did Boboiboy have to not answer and then keep his door locked?!

He touched his watch and called the eldest.

“What’s up?”

“He’s not answering and his door is locked,” Kristal said with a venomous smile, emphasizing his words slowly.

A silence formed on the other end. Then Voltra’s voice—an angry sigh—was heard. “Wait. I’m coming.”

They didn’t know that even if they opened the door, they wouldn’t get any result.

When Voltra arrived, without saying anything he tossed the spare key in Kristal’s direction.

Kristal, triumphant, put the key in the lock and turned it. But as soon as they stepped inside, both youths froze.

“Oh... no,” Kristal said, feigning sorrow as he put his hand to his forehead. Then turning serious, he raised an eyebrow at Voltra, who was checking Boboiboy’s body. “Is he alive?”

Voltra squinted and murmured something quietly. He stood, eyes not leaving the body, and through his teeth, “He’s dead.” “And he’s been dead for some time. Looks like he did this at night.”

“The others will be so upset when they hear he’s dead,” Kristal said again with fake sorrow, pursing his lips. “We took care of our baby like our life depended on it, didn’t even let him leave the house, why? So he wouldn’t be harmed, wouldn’t be hurt. And he killed himself.”

“This is not the time for discussion, we should call the others,” Voltra said calmly, but at that moment his gaze could have petrified someone. It was full of intense, dark rage.

Soon the seven youths were gathered around Boboiboy’s body.

Nova was the first to speak.

“I can’t believe he did this,” he said through gritted teeth, his fists so tight his nails dug into his palms.

“How, how could he do this? We cared for him, we loved him...” Beliung whispered, a look of fierce sadness on his face. But it was not the grief of someone who lost a person; it resembled the sorrow of a child who lost his toy.

Rimba had buried his face in Gamma’s shoulder and could only hiccup and cry.

Blizzard, Gamma and the other two were silent, but their looks said a lot.

Then Voltra slowly spoke. “I found something... on the coffee table.”

“What is it?”

Ignoring their demanding looks, Voltra sat on the bed that once belonged to someone and motioned for them to do the same.

They formed a circle on the large bed.

After looking at each of them one by one, Voltra pulled nine envelopes from his pocket and placed them in the center. “He must have written these... to us.”

“Oh... so he was thoughtful enough to explain himself to us,” Beliung said, raising his eyebrows, though his tone lacked warmth; it carried coldness. “Did he write separate letters to each of us, then?”

“Letters... the names must be written on the envelopes,” Blizzard said briefly.

“But there are nine envelopes here. Who are they for?”

“We can’t know without looking,” Kristal, who had been silent up to that point, said. Slowly and hesitantly he reached out and took one of the envelopes. Turning it over, he saw ‘Nova’ written in red pen.

Not bothering to open it, he tossed the envelope at Nova. “This is for you.”

One by one the envelopes reached their owners, except for two: ‘For Everyone’ and ‘To Those in My Real Home and My Real Siblings’.

“He couldn’t have meant us as his real home,” Voltra said harshly; despite everything this was a real disappointment to him. “We’ve never heard him call this place home or call us ‘siblings.’”

“But Boboiboy has no siblings,” Rimba whispered, finally having stopped crying. “Who is he talking about as his siblings?”

Kristal squeezed the envelope in his hand slightly. “It must be written in the letter.”

They started with the letter labeled ‘For Everyone.’

“I’m sure the question of why I did this is troubling your minds. If any of you had even a gram of conscience, I wouldn’t have to tell you the answer — you could find it on your own.

But you have neither conscience nor a healthy mindset. You invented a ‘dangerous world’ and you try to find rational excuses for your obsession far from reason. Didn’t you notice that you were obsessed with me? Didn’t you really understand that you were jealous of anyone who spent time with me, or that you actually saw me as nothing more than a toy?

I did whatever you wanted. When I tried to do anything else, didn’t you threaten me? Be honest with yourselves, did you do this because you really wanted to protect me? If so, is this how you protect me? By taking away freedom of choice, will, in short all freedom, and locking it in a golden cage?

Even five-year-olds would laugh at that. They put the nightingale in a golden cage and say, oh homeland. But you didn’t just tear me away from my homeland and my home as I was and bring me here, you tried to make me feel that I belonged here.

You memorized every detail of my room and built a copy of it, and then you were disappointed because I didn’t thank you! Emotionless creatures like you can’t possibly understand the concepts of family and home. A person’s family is those he loves, not people who give him everything and take his freedom away. You were my friends, my family until you imprisoned me... Now you are nothing. Nothing.

If you think I’m sorry I killed myself, here’s an uncomfortable truth: I am very happy to be free of you.

I’m sure the title on one of the letters, ‘To Those in My Real Home and My Real Siblings,’ confused you. Don’t think about it more — give that letter to Tok Aba — if he’s still alive, of course...

Won’t give it? Then you are stupid and selfish creatures who don’t even know the letter ‘l’ in love.

From Boboiboy, who was once your friend.”

While Rimba began to cry again, the others looked at each other silently. The same thought ran through all their minds.

“Poor Oboi... So fragile, so delicate...”

They were angry too, of course. How dare Boboiboy have the nerve to do this? After all their efforts, after all their care, he had taken his own life. While they tried to protect him, Boboiboy had rudely rejected them and ended his life with his own hand.

“Let’s look at the other letters,” Kristal said curtly — a sharp look in his eyes.

There was the rustle of paper in the room.

Contrary to what they expected, Boboiboy had written short, very short letters to them.

“Voltra.

This is the last time I will address you like this. I don’t know if you noticed, but I never addressed you by your name. Know that I never respected you or the others. Do you think I feared your lightning? No, I wasn’t afraid. I just didn’t want to suffer or die like a puppet in your hands.

I would rather die by my own hand than have my enemy kill me.”

“Beliung.

Are you sad, my monster butterfly? Or are you angry? Do what you like; you can trample over my corpse, I don’t care. I used to think you were cheerful and carefree, I even thought you were like a Blue Morpho. How wrong I was.

Disappointed? It’s nothing compared to mine. You will forget me, but I will not forget you. You hurt me forever.”

“Kristal.

I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU IN ONE WORD.”

“Nova.

I used to think you were the lesser evil because you let me breathe a little and included me in your games. Until you called me Oboi. That nickname was very special to me, and when you started using it, it became stained by your memories. You will never know what it meant.

You are lucky to have received one of the kindest letters.

P.S: I never said I loved you.”

“Blizzard.

Back in our school days they said you were silent, cold and hurtful. I thought there was a soft person inside you then. I was mistaken. You really are cold and hurtful.”

“Rimba.

Don’t play innocent and shed tears blaming others. You are as guilty as the rest. I still remember the night I tried to escape and you caught me by playing the innocent role.”

“Gamma.

A perfect room with everything I wanted was not a perfect home. The same goes for a perfect family. I just wanted to live a normal life among the people I loved. Not you and your ridiculous concept of family.”

“How sad,” Beliung sighed after they had finished reading all the letters. The saddened expression on his face was fake, but the sorrow was real. “I wish he hadn’t been so fragile and had clearly said what he wanted. After all, we wouldn’t have eaten him.”

“He should have been ours only...” Kristal hissed, furious after finishing the two short lines of his letter. “He should have been ours, loved only us and...”

After a short silence he lifted his head and scanned the others with sharp eyes. “We should set this house on fire.”

Voltra, without hesitation, said, “I agree.” He looked as angry as Kristal.

“I do, too,” Beliung said seriously — he could look very serious when needed. Twirling the wind at his fingertips with a careless expression, he added, “At least I’d like to burn his corpse.”

“Uh... isn’t that a bit cruel?” Rimba murmured, but he didn’t stand much of a chance beneath the hard, oppressive stares of the others. “...Fine.”

They left everything as it was except for the envelope Boboiboy asked them to deliver, and set the house on fire.

Reluctantly, they left the envelope at Tok Aba’s house. The house already looked very quiet, perhaps there was no one living there anymore.

...

“Tok Aba, Ochobot, Iman, Halilintar, Taufan, Gempa, Blaze, Ais, Duri and Solar.

I will briefly tell you what I experienced.

(Two paragraphs omitted. Boboiboy summarized the events.)

I endured until I was twenty. But only my death would bring them to their senses. Even if I didn’t die, I would never be able to be with you again. Those obsessive ones would never leave me alone.

I love you, and Tok Aba, I swear I didn’t run away from home.

To my dear friends... Please finish your school, pursue the profession you want and live a happy life.

I can’t endure any longer. I missed my home a lot but more than that, I am so ill that I will lose my mind. I would rather die than lose my mind and become completely dependent on them.

Forgive me for saying this... I love you.”

The red-eyed youth who had finished reading the letter narrowed his eyes. “My hunch didn’t deceive me... Those seven really did look unusual and frightening.”

“So you mean you suspected them from the beginning?” the blue-eyed youth asked, pursing his lips.

“You could say that...” The red-eyed youth looked out the window into the distance. “I wonder where they are now.”

“You’d like to kill them, wouldn’t you?” the other asked and snapped his fingers. “There’s no doubt I could beat them in a fair fight.”

“You never change, Hali...” The blue-eyed youth, Taufan, laughed, but then sighed immediately. “At least the others are going to a really good school. Even if it will require sacrifice from us.”

“What do you think their reaction will be when they hear this letter?” Halilintar asked; he was thinking about this rather than sacrifices.

“I don’t know... but I think they’ll be sad.” Taufan sighed again.

Halilintar, however, looked at the paper filled with Boboiboy’s handwriting in his hand, thinking about the pain he had endured for years.

The end.

Embéria Aéris.

I changed the font I used for the letters so it looks like it was actually handwritten.