They walked slowly at first, saying little. The streets were quiet, the sky shifting colors, that peculiar evening calm settling over everything. Semiel felt Saval's hand intertwined with his—warm, sure, as if it had always belonged there.
—Didn't know you had such good taste in bracelets, —Saval said suddenly, examining the small flower-shaped stone glowing under a streetlamp.
—Didn't know you'd like it so much, —Semiel replied with a slight smile.
—I do. A lot. —Saval glanced sideways— But I like even more that you took the time to find it. To think of something for me.
—Was afraid you'd think it was too much.
—I did. But not in a bad way, —Saval murmured—. It was a good kind of too much.
They walked a few more steps. The city seemed blurred around them, everything out of focus except the two of them.
How strange this feels. But a good strange, Saval thought, squeezing Semiel's hand slightly tighter. Being like this, together, not saying everything but knowing what matters. I don't know if this is love... but if it's not, it's damn close.
—Can I ask you something? —Semiel said, not looking directly at him.
—Yeah.
—Did you think about me... all this time? I mean, when we weren't talking much. When everything felt off.
Saval looked down briefly before answering.
—Yeah. Thought about you a lot. But not always pretty thoughts. Sometimes I'd get mad at myself. Other times I'd wonder if you'd stopped caring. And sometimes I just wanted to text that I missed you. But didn't know if I had the right.
—You had every right.
—So did you. And yet... we both stayed quiet.
Semiel chuckled softly.
—We're idiots.
—A little.
But there was no bitterness. Just a light melancholy, like a breeze that no longer stung.
They continued down a tree-lined street. House lights flickered on. Passed a dog lounging on a fence—barely glancing at them—and a kid bouncing a ball on the sidewalk, wholly uninterested.
—I like this, —Semiel murmured.
—Walking?
—No. Well, yes. But more than that... I like this with you. That we can be like this.
—Me too, —Saval replied—. And I think I'll like it more each time.
Gradually, they neared Semiel's block. Their pace slowed. Neither said it, but both knew parting was coming.
—Don't forget to prep that comparative lit reading tomorrow, —Saval said, forcing casualness.
—Don't ruin the moment with responsibilities.
—Someone's gotta keep you grounded.
Semiel laughed quietly.
—I'll read it if you send me a photo of your morning face.
—What's that got to do with anything?
—Nothing. But it'd make me laugh.
—Fine, —Saval shrugged—. I'll send it.
They stopped outside Semiel's house. The first-floor light was on—his dad probably watching TV as usual.
Semiel looked at their joined hands. Didn't let go.
—Thanks for walking with me.
—Thanks for asking.
A pause. Then another kiss. Shorter this time. Softer. But carrying that tenderness of something just beginning.
—See you tomorrow, —Saval whispered.
—Can't wait.
He released Semiel's hand gently and turned, walking away slowly. Semiel watched until he rounded the corner. Then sighed and went inside.
Upstairs, he dropped his backpack and collapsed onto his bed—still fully dressed. Lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.
I kissed him. Twice. No. Three times? Or was it four?
He rolled over, burying his face in the pillow. A giddy laugh escaped. Felt ridiculous—like a teenager discovering what being alive meant.
What happens now? What if he regrets it tomorrow? What if it was just the moment?
But those thoughts faded when he remembered Saval's expression after the kiss. Calm. Certain. That shy smile and awkward hair-tucking gesture.
I like him so much. Have for so long. And now... now it's really happening.
He closed his eyes. One phrase floated in his mind before sleep took him:
Can't wait to see him again.