Saval woke up slowly. Sunlight filtered through the window, making it seem like today might be a good day. He blinked a couple times, confused for a moment, until he recognized the white ceiling above him.
He stayed still in bed, staring at the ceiling. He was thinking about what had happened last night. There was a knot in his stomach—not from anxiety, but from that dense mix important moments bring: doubt, affection, fear, and something he still didn't know how to name.
He got up carefully, trying not to make any noise. Walked barefoot to the small kitchen and made himself coffee. The familiar smell gave him a bit of comfort. Then he took out bread, butter, and jam from the fridge. It wasn't much of a breakfast, but it was something. While clumsily spreading the toast, he thought about what he'd say. He'd gone over the words in his head for hours before falling asleep, but now they slipped away, like the dawn had taken them.
Saval took a deep breath.
Semiel showed up minutes later, messy, hair all over the place and eyes barely open. Still wearing the same clothes he'd slept in. Seeing him like that, something tightened in Saval.
—Morning —mumbled Semiel, scratching his neck.
—Morning —said Saval, setting a mug on the table—. I made you coffee. And... toast w/ jam. Not much.
—It's perfect —said Semiel, sitting down w/out looking directly at him.
They ate in silence for a few mins. The only sound was the clock and their held breaths. Saval didn't know if the right moment would show up on its own or if he'd have to build it with clumsy hands. Finally, when the toast was gone and the coffee had cooled, he spoke:
—Last night… I was thinking a lot.
Semiel set his mug down w/ too much care, like it was fragile.
—Yeah? —he asked, not daring to look at him.
—Yeah —said Saval, rubbing his hands together—. I wanna talk to you. Tell you what I think. What I feel.
Semiel nodded. His face looked calm, but his knuckles were white from tension.
—Okay. I'm listening.
Saval finally looked at him, straight in the eyes.
—I don't wanna hurt you. That's the first truth. Bc I care about you, Semiel. More than I can explain clearly.
Semiel tensed up, but didn't interrupt.
—For years you've been the only one who's been there for me, even when I didn't know how to be there for anyone. You've been my refuge, my partner, my constant. But I never... I never asked myself if that was love. Not bc it wasn't. But bc I didn't know it could be.
Saval's voice trembled a little. Semiel pressed his lips together.
—I don't wanna give you an answer I'm not completely sure about. That'd be unfair to you. But I also don't wanna pull away. I don't want you to think this scares me. I just need to understand. Understand if what I feel can become something more. And for that, I need time.Semiel nodded slowly. There were no tears, but his eyes were damp, like he'd accepted something long before hearing it.
—Thank you —he finally said—. For being honest. For not running away.
—I'm not planning to run —said Saval—. Not from you.
Semiel gave a small smile—tiny, but real. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It was like a new space, unfamiliar, but one where they both knew they could sit for a while.
—So what do we do now? —asked Semiel, a hint of humor in his voice.
—We'll eat more bread. And then… we'll watch more Pokémon movies.
Semiel laughed softly.
—Sounds like a good plan.
For the next few hours, they allowed themselves to reclaim the ordinary. They washed the dishes together, teased Semiel about the state of his hair, picked a silly movie before the Pokémon one just to stretch the moment. The atmosphere felt different. Not because everything was resolved, but because the most important question had been answered.
In the afternoon, they went for a walk along the shore. Semiel dipped his feet in the water, and Saval followed without complaining. The sea was cold, but Semiel's laughter made it bearable.
—Remember when we wanted to come here a while back? —Semiel asked, looking out at the horizon.
—Yeah. We argued because we had class and I had a stream.
—We ended up going to the beach in VR chat so you could relax.
—It worked, didn't it?
—No. We ended up in the lounge and I kept bugging you.
Saval laughed—genuinely. Semiel glanced at him from the corner of his eye, and for a second, just one, hope seemed to trace the corner of his mouth.
As night fell, they returned home. Saval showered first, and when he came out, he found Semiel reading on the couch. He looked at him from the bathroom door, steam rising behind him like a soft cloud.
—Hey —he said.
Semiel looked up.
—Thanks for understanding. For not pressuring me. For still being here.
Semiel nodded.
—Thanks for trusting me enough to say it.
That night, they slept in the same bed. They didn't touch. They didn't need to. The closeness was enough.
It took Saval a while to fall asleep, but when he did, he did so with the certainty that something was being built—slowly, without guarantees, but with truth.
And that, he thought, was more than he'd had in a long time.