Saval took a deep breath before stepping inside. It had been ages since he'd entered this house—at least not since things with Semiel began changing. The space felt familiar yet strangely foreign at the same time.
A voice called from deeper inside:
—Who's there?
—It's Saval, —Semiel answered, closing the door behind them.
Semiel's father appeared from the hallway, book in hand, glasses dangling around his neck. He wore a simple t-shirt and dark hoodie, yet carried an imposing presence Saval couldn't quite read.
—Ah, you're the video friend, —the man said, slightly furrowing his brow as if trying to recall a fading detail.
—Yes, sir. Good evening, —Saval replied with a small nod.
—Evening, —he repeated, studying Saval a moment longer before turning toward the kitchen—. Gonna heat some coffee. Keep it down—football starts in half an hour.
—Relax, Dad, —Semiel said, already gently pulling Saval's arm toward the hallway—. Just planning tomorrow's stream.
Saval stayed quiet, but climbing the stairs made his heartbeat quicken. Maybe from the greeting, maybe from entering the bedroom. Maybe because all of this made things real.
I've met Semiel's dad before... why does my chest feel tight this time?
The door clicked shut softly, revealing the room's usual chaos—papers strewn across the desk, an empty mug near the monitor, headphones dangling from a shelf. Saval sat on the bed without speaking as Semiel nudged a box aside with his foot to clear space.
—Sorry for the mess, —he said, sitting beside him—. Didn't have time to tidy up.
—It's fine, —Saval murmured—. Feels... normal.
Silence settled between them. The air felt charged but not heavy—more like the quiet electricity before a light rain. Words waited, still simmering in their chests.
—Been thinking about tomorrow's stream, —Semiel said, lowering his voice slightly—. Wanna do it together?
Saval looked up.
—Yeah? Won't it feel... weird?
—No. I mean... if you want. We could keep it simple. Easy laughs, dumb jokes, see what happens.
—We could try, —Saval nodded—. Though I might not concentrate fully.
Semiel smiled—that particular expression blending tenderness and weariness.
—Me neither. But it'd still be nice.
—Yeah, —Saval agreed—. Like... starting over.
—Or not letting it slip away, —Semiel added.
The words didn't say everything, but they said enough. Both knew the stream wasn't just an excuse to spend time together. It was a way to reconnect through what had always united them.
—After the stream... —Semiel began, like tossing a stone into unknown waters— wanna do something?
Saval considered it.
—This weekend... we could catch a movie, —he said, avoiding direct eye contact—. Only if you want.
—Do you want?
—Yeah.
—Then I want.
They held each other's gaze. No broad smiles, but their eyes spoke clearly—a silent promise. A small agreement. Two days. A movie. Space for confusion to breathe without noise.
—What do you wanna watch? —Semiel asked, scratching his nape.
—Something light. A comedy maybe. Nothing that makes us think too hard.
—Perfect. Saves me from explaining plots to you, —he joked, earning a gentle elbow nudge from Saval.
The room filled with shared calm. With certainty that even if the future remained uncertain, the present had space for honesty. For clumsiness. For trying.
From downstairs, Semiel's father called his name.
—Coming! —Semiel shouted, then turned to Saval with a faint smile—. Tomorrow, then.
—Tomorrow.
And for that moment, it was enough.