The hallway remained empty. Only the humming vending machines, flickering lights, and distant announcements bore witness. Saval still nibbled his mango ice cream with small surprised expressions, as if each bite surprised him anew. Semiel watched silently, his own treat long finished, napkin crumpled between his fingers.
He burned inside—not with fear this time, but longing. Not carnal or urgent, but tender. The desire to give something, to bridge the gap, to stop carrying this feeling alone.
He reached into his backpack with deliberate movement. The small black box rested on his palm as he extended it toward Saval wordlessly—a mute offering.
Saval eyed it with a raised brow.
—What's this?
—For you, —Semiel said simply.
—What're we celebrating?
Semiel shook his head with a smile.
—Nothing. Saw it and thought of you. Figured it'd suit you.
Saval took it, curious. Opened the box carefully, as if it might dissolve, and exhaled softly at the bracelet inside.
Simple yet beautiful. Green stones and delicate floral accents that looked hand-carved. The fluorescent hallway lights made them gleam, but their true magic was how perfectly they seemed to belong on him already.
—Can I try it?
—Of course.
Saval fastened the clasp easily. Against his pale wrist, the stones stood out vividly. He flexed his hand slightly, testing the weight.
—What do you think? —he asked, glancing up.
Semiel studied him for silent seconds. His chest swarmed with words he couldn't possibly say all at once. So he chose one.
—Perfect.
Saval smiled—not polite or nervous, but genuinely, the kind that lights eyes from within.
—Thanks. I love it. Really.
—Glad.
A brief pause. Not awkward, just weighted. Saval toyed with the bracelet, then noticed Semiel still watching him intently.
—What're you thinking?
Semiel took two extra seconds to answer. Not from uncertainty, but because the truth might change everything.
But he was done waiting.
—Thinking how right it looks on you, Saval.
Soft. Unstrained. A calm he didn't know he possessed. Saval held his gaze, visibly searching for a response.
Semiel leaned in slightly—just a breath between them now—and added:
—Know what else would suit you?
Saval's lips parted soundlessly. He looked puzzled but attentive, as if sensing something he couldn't quite believe yet.
Semiel smiled faintly.
—This.
And then he kissed him.
Not long or clumsy. Not aggressive or impulsive. A contained kiss, yet full—as natural as their linked hands in theaters, as their recent glances, as all the unspoken words piled between ice creams and game streams and slow walks.
Saval didn't pull away. Didn't stiffen. Just stayed there, receiving it, eyes half-lidded and heartbeat tangled.
When Semiel withdrew—mere centimeters—his breathing came quicker. The world hadn't stopped, but his certainly had.
No more words needed.
The dim hallway lights, the bracelet on Saval's wrist, the silence between them—they spoke plainly enough.