—So... what exactly do you need? —Mia asked, balancing a juice box in one hand and her phone in the other, though she wasn't really looking at either.
They sat on a park bench near campus, the afternoon sun filtering through trees as rush hour faded. Semiel struggled to begin.
—Need to tell Saval something important... after we get burgers, —he said, scratching his nape.
Mia raised an eyebrow.
—Important like "let's play Stardew Valley together" or important like "let's be boyfriends"?
Semiel stared at his shoes nudging a pebble on the ground.
—The second one.
—Ah.
Silence lingered for several seconds. Mia set her phone aside and turned fully toward him.
—Why tell me though?
—Because you know how to talk, —Semiel admitted—. I freeze up. Happens whenever I feel too much. And this time... I don't wanna mess it up.
Mia smiled—not teasing, just tender.
—Get that. But... there's no perfect script for this.
—I know, —he leaned forward, elbows on knees—. If I lead with feelings, might scare him. If I play it cool, he might think I don't care enough. Don't know how to start. Tried once already and failed. The fear sticks, you know?
Mia sipped her juice.
—What exactly do you want to say to him?
Semiel took his time. Inhaled deeply. Glanced at the sky before answering:
—That being with him these weeks has been the best thing that's happened to me in years. That I like him. Really like him. That I want him—not to change, or to feel exactly the same way. Just... want him to know. And if he wants to try, we can.
Mia listened intently. Didn't interrupt. Only smiled at the end.
—That's good, —she said softly—. It's honest. That's all that matters.
—But I don't want to spook him. You know how Saval is. Seems fine one second, then gets stuck in his head.
—Yeah, —she nodded—. But I also know him well enough to say you matter to him. He might not react perfectly, might not say everything right then... but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it.
Semiel ducked his head, remembering the cinema—how their hands had intertwined wordlessly. How Saval had squeezed his fingers leaving the theater.
—Think it's okay to say it right after eating?
—Depends, —Mia said—. If you're both food-comatosed, he might miss half of it. But if the moment feels right... say it. Don't treat it like a script. Just... let it come from you.
Semiel nodded. Stayed quiet a few seconds.
—I'm scared.
Mia rested a hand on his shoulder.
—Means you care. And if he feels something too—even differently—he'll notice that. And if not... you'll be okay. Eventually.
He nodded again, more firmly this time.
—Thanks.
—And if all else fails, —Mia added— just invent a game where you confess through UNO cards. Never fails.
Semiel barked an unexpected laugh.
—I'll consider it.
They lingered, shifting to lighter topics—classes, David's psych theories, George's recent cooking video obsession.
When they parted, Semiel walked with more ease. Not because the nerves vanished, but because he'd begun accepting them—as part of something bigger than himself.
He was ready. Not to know the outcome. But to speak his truth.
And that alone was progress.