Semiel lay on his back in bed, hands resting on his chest, eyes fixed on the ceiling without really seeing anything. The memory of the kiss kept replaying—a film he couldn't pause. The way Saval had looked at him before leaning in, the clumsy but sincere way their lips met… and that moment afterward, when the whole world seemed to stop.
He brought a hand to his mouth. He could still feel the warmth. Still felt that sweet sting of nervousness.
But it wasn't just excitement.
It was fear.
He didn't know what would happen now. They'd crossed a line he wasn't sure they could uncross. What if Saval regretted it? What if it ruined everything they had?
He turned onto his side, hugging a pillow. Something in his chest pulsed—not just from the memory, but from everything it meant.
The door creaked open without warning.
—Son? —His father's voice, calm, as if he already knew something was weighing on him.
Semiel didn't move but answered.
—I'm awake, Dad.
His father stepped inside and sat on the edge of the bed, a cup of tea in hand.
—Everything okay?
Semiel swallowed. Hesitated. Then dared to ask:
—What do you do when you care about something so much you're scared of losing it?
His father studied him silently for a moment. Set the cup on the nightstand.
—That's a good question. —He finally spoke—. I think when you truly care, you accept the risk too. Love… affection… anything that really matters always has that fragile side.
Semiel looked away. He didn't want to cry, but the lump in his throat was stubborn.
—I'm scared of ruining it, —he murmured—. Of things never being the same now.
—Do you want him?
—Yeah… a lot.
—Then talk to him. Be honest. Sometimes, when you keep everything inside, that's when you lose things the most.
The silence turned comfortable for a few seconds. Semiel sat up, crossing his legs.
—What if he doesn't feel the same?
—You'll know. But as long as you keep hiding from the possibility, you'll never know if you could've built something.
Semiel nodded, still not looking up. Then chuckled faintly.
—When did you get so wise?
—The moment I saw you walk in with that dumb smile on your face.
Semiel flushed. Dropped his head.
—Was it that obvious?
—More obvious than the ice cream stain on your shirt.
They both laughed. A brief but warm moment.
His father stood, ruffled his hair, and picked up his tea.
—Don't be afraid to feel, son. Fear doesn't stop something from hurting—it just stops you from enjoying it while you have it.
Semiel's father left the room, closing the door behind him, thinking of his wife.
My love, our boy's grown up… I wish you could see him now.
When the door clicked shut, Semiel sat in silence for a while, turning those words over in his head.
Then he grabbed his phone. Unlocked it. Opened his chat with Saval.
The cursor blinked.
Did you get home okay?
He deleted it.
Today was nice.
Deleted that too.
He sighed. Turned off the phone and dropped it on the nightstand. Lay back down. Closed his eyes.
His chest buzzed, but it didn't hurt. A different kind of nervousness. Like before a big stream, but more personal. More vulnerable.
The kiss had been real.
The feeling was still there.
And even with fear lingering, he couldn't stop smiling.
Something had changed.
And even if he didn't know what came next, part of him was ready to find out.
—Thanks, —he whispered—to the ceiling, to the night, or maybe to Saval, he wasn't sure.
Then, simply, he let himself fall asleep—heart full of emotions he still didn't know how to name, but that he was finally ready to accept.