CHAPTER 92: ONE STEP CLOSER?

Saval pushed open his front door with quiet footsteps. He didn't speak, but glanced sideways at Semiel following silently behind—hands shoved in pockets, heartbeat racing.

They'd barely spoken since the kiss. Not from reluctance, but from lack of words. The moment had been so simple yet so overwhelming it left them breathless.

—Want dinner? —Saval asked, dropping his backpack on the couch.

—Anything's fine, —Semiel replied, perching on the edge of Saval's bed—. More tired than hungry.

Saval rummaged through the kitchen—crackers, two glasses, soda. Nothing fancy, but enough. He sat beside Semiel, not touching but not pulling away either.

They ate in silence for minutes. The crunch of crackers and fizz of soda filled the air. Saval studied the floor. Semiel, his hands.

—Hey, —Saval finally said.

—Hmm?

—Thanks for not... making it weird.

—The kiss?

Saval nodded. Semiel smiled slightly, gaze dropping.

—Wasn't weird. Was nice. Just... don't know what comes next.

Saval huffed a quiet laugh, as if relieved to hear it.

—Me neither.

A pause. Not heavy—just honest. Like both were understanding something for the first time.

—Wanna watch something? —Saval stood—. Overthinking hurts.

—Yeah. Nothing that'll make me cry.

—So no dogs or robots?

—Exactly.

They picked a dumb comedy. Stretched across the bed—back-to-back at first, but gradually, unknowingly, shoulders brushing. Saval chuckled softly. Semiel too. Sometimes they'd comment on scenes; other times just let the movie carry them.

This is warm, Semiel thought, staring at the screen without seeing it.

He felt Saval's heat beside him. His breathing. That proximity which once felt weightless now thrummed with new meaning.

But he wouldn't break it. Not yet.

Saval, meanwhile, remembered Semiel's smile walking home. How their fingers grazed reaching for the remote. And the kiss—not drawn-out or clumsy. Just right.

Why aren't I as scared as I thought I'd be?

Maybe because it was Semiel. Because with him, things made sense differently.

The movie ended, leaving the room in dimness. Saval stretched to close the laptop.

—Wanna stay over? —he asked, voice low.

—With you?

—We can put a pillow between us, —Saval teased.

—Okay. I'll stay.

They settled in. Closer this time. No pillow barrier.

—Night, —Semiel whispered.

—Night.

Darkness enveloped them—not uncomfortable but comforting. Semiel closed his eyes, faintly aware of Saval's weight beside him. Not touching, but present. That was enough.

No need to rush, he thought. This isn't a race. What we have can be built slowly.

How much I want him.

Saval lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Listened to Semiel's steady breathing. A wave of peace—long absent—washed over him.

I'm okay, he realized. Like this. With him here.

And he smiled, just barely.

No more kisses came that night.

But closeness did.

And sometimes, that mattered even more.