The sun had barely begun to peek through the curtains when Semiel woke up, walking barefoot across the cold kitchen floor. Still in his pajamas, his hair messy and his eyes a little puffy from sleep, he moved slowly. The tomatoes were already on the cutting board, diced into medium-sized cubes, and the eggs had been whisked with a pinch of salt and pepper. The toast was waiting in the toaster, and a cup of café con leche sat on the table, gently steaming and perfumed with a hint of cinnamon — just the way Saval liked it.
—I hope this cheers him up. He's been so exhausted lately.
The aroma filled the small kitchen and crept through the halls, but Semiel wasn't thinking about that. He moved the knife with practiced focus, but his thoughts were far away, floating back to yesterday — the sand, the salty breeze, and that moment.
That exact second when Saval looked at him. How brief those seconds had been. And yet how much they hurt.
Semiel stopped. He set the knife down. With his free hand, he touched his lips. Ran his fingers over them. Closed his eyes.
—I could've kissed him —he whispered, barely breathing.
He wasn't sure if it was regret or longing that he felt. But that moment had stayed lodged in him. He hadn't slept well since last night. He'd tossed and turned in bed, replaying over and over the thing he hadn't dared to do.
Now, as he cooked, he wondered what he was supposed to do from here. Antonella was gone. The shadow of her presence had weighed on him for so long. She had always been there, between them. But now…
—Now there are no excuses —he whispered.
He turned back to the pan, stirred the tomatoes, and then added the eggs. The scent intensified, warm and familiar… it was like Saval. Like a habit that had become part of his every day. He knew him so well, loved him so much. And still, he didn't know if he could risk what they had for what he wanted.
What if he told him? What if Saval pushed him away? What if everything changed?
The toast popped from the toaster. Semiel hurried to plate everything. Coffee, toast, scrambled eggs with tomatoes.
—Morning, sleepyhead —he said to himself, like a rehearsal.
…
In the next room, Saval was just starting to wake up. The soft morning light slipped past the curtains, casting faint shadows across his face. He rubbed his eyes, kicked off the sheets, and let out a quiet groan as he sat up in bed.
The first thing that came to his mind was the beach.
Semiel's gaze.
That precise moment when their eyes met, when he'd said thank you for saving me. There was something in that glance that had stuck with him. A certain intensity. A light in his eyes he didn't know how to name. He'd felt it before, he thought. In another time. In another story.
—It looked like… —he started to say, but didn't finish.
The glow had been the same one he used to have when he looked at Antonella, back when he still believed everything was possible. And that unsettled him.
—Could Semiel…? —he said under his breath.
He shook his head. He was getting carried away. They'd had a bit to drink. Maybe he was feeling overly sensitive, too open, reading too much into things. Yeah, that had to be it.
—You're imagining things, Saval —he told himself, pulling a T-shirt on as he walked toward the door.
But even as he headed for the kitchen, part of him was still unsure. There had been something different about Semiel last night. He'd felt it. He'd seen it.
…..
—Hey —said Semiel when he saw him come in, with a smile that looked forced, but sweet.
—Smells good. Eggs with tomato! What's the occasion? —Saval rubbed his hands together, grinning as he walked closer.
—I was hungry. And I remembered you like them this way —said Semiel, avoiding his gaze as he poured the coffee.
—With cinnamon! You're the best, Semiel —said Saval, jokingly.
Breakfast passed in soft silences and comments about how good everything tasted. They seemed like two regular friends, sharing a morning. But under the table, Semiel's feet trembled slightly. Every word was a little effort. And every smile from Saval hurt, because he smiled at him, just not the way he wished he would.
When they finished, they sat there, looking at the empty plates.
—So... what now? We've got two more days. What should we do? —asked Saval, stretching in his chair.
—We could plan the streams. You said you wanted to do something like a movie or series ranking, right? —suggested Semiel, a bit more cheerful.
—Yeah, that! And also—hey! I have the Pokémon 2000 movie downloaded. Wanna watch it today?
—Of course. Haven't seen it in years. Lugia, right?
—Obviously. My favorite legendary.
Semiel smiled —this time, for real. It was easy to forget the pain in moments like that, when it was just the two of them, laughing over silly things, talking about anime and video games, making plans they might never follow through on, but that still gave them something to hold onto.
—So today is: Pokémon, a flood of nostalgia, and stream planning —Saval summed up as he stood and carried his plate to the sink.
—And tomorrow, if it doesn't rain, we could go to the beach again. But no overthinking this time. You almost drowned staring at the horizon! —joked Semiel.
—I almost died from existentialism —Saval replied, laughing.
Their shared laughter filled the kitchen. And for a moment, everything was fine. No one talked about feelings. No one confessed anything. But in the air, a quiet truth lingered. Semiel knew it. He was closer than ever. And at the same time, still just as far.
The day was only beginning. And both of them knew that, even if unspoken, something had shifted between them.
Something that couldn't be undone.