The campus looked the same as always: students running around with folders, professors talking to themselves between classes. But for Semiel and Saval, nothing felt the same. There was something off in the air. A film of silence between the laughter, a pause in every unspoken word. The echo of what had happened with Antonella and Santiago still hadn't let them go.
"Hey," said Semiel, kicking a small rock as they walked through the central garden, "I was thinking... we should go to the beach."
Saval raised an eyebrow, still staring ahead. "Just like that?"
"Not just like that," Semiel replied. "Look, exams are over, we've got a week off. We could take my cousin's car and get the hell out of here. Just you and me. Don't overthink it. Just a little getaway."
Saval stopped for a moment, thoughtful. The sun fell gently on his shoulders, and the sound of distant bells marked midmorning.
"I guess it'd be good to disconnect for a bit," he finally said. "Just... I don't want this to be one of those things we do to pretend everything's okay."
"It's not to pretend," said Semiel, glancing at him. "It's to breathe. We don't have to talk about what happened. Or we can. Whatever you want. But I'm going crazy in this city. In this university. With..." He trailed off. "With everything."
Saval gave a faint smile, as if he recognized something in that sentence. As if they shared the same kind of weariness.
"Alright. Let's go to the beach."
…
The trip started the next day. Semiel's cousin's old car made strange noises on the curves, and the radio only picked up stations that sounded like they were from another century. But there was something comforting about it. About not having to say anything. About letting the wind mess up their thoughts.
They stopped at a roadside store to buy snacks. Saval came out with two bottles of water, a bag of oatmeal cookies, and a chocolate bar he refused to explain. Semiel came out with chips and an energy drink.
"We're going to die of heartburn," said Saval, leaning back in his seat as they drove off again.
"But we'll die happy," Semiel replied, and for the first time in days, they both laughed.
This is life.
…
The beach house was an Airbnb rented online. Nothing fancy, but enough for the two of them—a small kitchen, a terrace with a view of the sea. The place smelled of salt and old wood.
That first night, they sat on the sand with beers and a makeshift bonfire. Saval spoke little. Semiel kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. Not out of suspicion. Out of habit. Because his gaze always drifted toward him, as if there were no other direction it could go.
"Do you regret it?" Semiel asked suddenly.
Saval didn't answer right away. He stared into the fire.
"Plenty of things. But not being here."
I don't regret being here with you either, Saval. I love you, and I'd do whatever it takes to make you happy.
…
While Saval had fallen asleep on the sand, Semiel started thinking about everything that had happened—and about what they were going to do now.
I'm sitting next to Saval, watching the fire sway with that hypnotic rhythm, and all I can think is: "Tell him."
But I don't.
Because I'm afraid of ruining this moment. Because I've seen the way he looks at people when they disappoint him. Because I've spent so long loving him that I no longer know if it's love or a curse.
I met him years ago. At first, it was admiration. Then friendship. And then, without realizing it, it became this. This thing that keeps me up at night thinking about him. That makes me want to protect him even if it means he'll hate me. That makes me smile when he's sad, just so he won't feel alone.
He doesn't know. Or maybe he suspects. But he's never asked. Never wanted to know. And I've never wanted to push him toward an answer he can't give me.
Now he's sitting beside me. His eyes are tired and his smile is dim. But he's here. And that should be enough, right?
But it's not.
I'm tired of staying silent. Tired of swallowing this feeling every time he looks at me, unaware of what he does to me. I want to tell him that I choose him. That I've always chosen him.
And yet, I stay quiet.
Saval, when will I tell you this thing I keep locked in my chest?