Saval settled into bed while checking the time on his phone. It was 12:17 a.m. On the nightstand, the empty pizza box was still there, closed, like someone had forgotten to take care of that last little detail. Outside, the street was quiet, with only the occasional car passing by.
He turned off the phone screen and stared up at the ceiling.
He wasn't sure what he was feeling.There was something hovering in his chest. Something that wasn't exactly guilt, but felt close. Like he'd said the right thing, but it still didn't make him feel good.
—I love him as a friend —he said to himself, very quietly, like he needed to believe it.
And it was true.
Semiel was important. Very. One of the few who had stayed close when everything began to fall apart —when the situation with Antonella exploded, when his group of friends seemed to dissolve into thin air. Semiel stayed. He listened. He nudged him to start talking to people again. Sometimes in weird ways, sure, but it was clear he cared.
And that made it hard.
He thought about the moment in the park, when Semiel had held his hand to stop the ice cream from falling. It was such a small gesture, one of those things that shouldn't mean anything. But he looked into his eyes. In that second. That silence between them. He saw it clearly.
And he didn't know what to do.
He didn't pull away. He didn't respond to it either. He just stayed there, as if freezing was the safest thing to do.He wasn't sure he deserved that kind of affection. Or that he even knew what to do with it.
He closed his eyes for a moment. He remembered Semiel's voice earlier, while they were tidying up the room for the stream.—This moment makes me happy —he had said—. I wish it could last forever.
It had sounded sincere. So sincere it hurt. And that's why Saval had said it too, carefully, without breaking anything:—I want to hold on to this too, as friends.
Part of him wished that would be enough. That giving things a name would make them easier to handle. But another part… another part knew there were more layers beneath. That Semiel hadn't said it with the same kind of love he had responded with.
Mia's call had been like an awkward breath of air. Something that stopped the silence from becoming heavier.
Mia, asking if they could go to the movies. As if the world could still keep turning. As if things weren't all messed up inside.
He hesitated. Of course he did. But Semiel, with a slightly forced smile, had told him to say yes. That it would be good for him.
And he said yes.Now he was wondering if that was the right choice.
Not because he didn't want to go with Mia. She was his friend—also part of a past that had hurt, but sometimes talking to her was easier than with others. She reminded him of good things.
But something in Semiel's eyes, right after telling him to say yes, left him unsettled. Like he wasn't really okay. Like he had swallowed something bitter without saying it out loud.
Saval turned in bed. He looked toward the closed door of the guest room. No sound came from inside.
He thought about knocking. About saying something else. About clearing things up.But he didn't.
Instead, he closed his eyes and hugged the pillow.
He thought:
I hope this doesn't change what we have.
But he also knew that sometimes, no matter how much you wished it, things changed anyway.