The countdown hit zero, and the stream screen lit up with their usual setup—two camera feeds side by side, chat messages already flooding in.
—We're live, —Saval said, adjusting his mic—. You hearing me okay?
—Loud and clear, —Semiel replied, his voice brighter than usual from his own setup.
—Alright then, let's break some stuff.
—That's Hulk's job. You just swing around.
—Spider-Man's got style, —Saval countered, and Semiel chuckled softly.
The match began. Marvel Rivals wasn't the most complex game, but perfect for streaming—chaotic powers, ridiculous fights. Saval maneuvered Spider-Man with practiced ease, web-slinging between buildings while Semiel's Hulk smashed everything in sight.
—Pushing mid, —Saval called out.
—Got eyes on you, —Semiel responded—. Watch this.
His Hulk launched into a massive leap, crushing three enemies on impact and sending them flying.
—Let's go! —he shouted as chat exploded with emoji spam.
Semiel couldn't suppress his grin. There was something about Saval's laughter, his focused muttering, the way he'd call Semiel's name for backup or just to announce some reckless plan. It filled his chest with warmth he couldn't quite name.
—You got my back? —Saval asked.
—Always, —Semiel answered without thinking, then swallowed—. I mean, yeah, covering you.
—Thanks, Hulk.
—Anytime, Spidey.
The stream continued for over an hour. They bantered with chat, answered questions, reminisced about old clips. Viewers quickly noticed their renewed chemistry—jokes and speculation peppered the comments. Semiel read them peripherally but stayed focused on the game. On Saval. On how this all felt like coming home.
During a lull, Semiel glanced at the screen. Saval was biting his lip, deliberating over character skins, headphones slightly askew, brow furrowed in concentration. Semiel catalogued every detail and smiled.
He thought about how much he wanted him. Not just as a streaming partner or friend. He wanted all of him—the dumb jokes, the voice, the way he looked away when flustered. Wanted to be there for him, even when neither knew how.
When the final match ended, silence lingered for a beat before Saval spoke:
—Good stream.
—Yeah, —Semiel agreed—. Had fun.
—Me too.
Another silence. Comfortable this time.
The stream ended. Chat vanished, replaced by editing tools Saval always opened afterward. Semiel stayed beside him, watching him clip highlights.
—That Hulk triple-kill was golden, —Saval remarked.
—Yeah? Use it then. Just got lucky.
—Reflexes, —Saval corrected, eyes still on the screen.
Semiel watched him. From this angle, he could see the curve of Saval's neck, the subtle movements of his fingers on the mouse, the soft expression he wore while thinking. His heartbeat accelerated.
He didn't overthink it. Just let his hand slide over Saval's—carefully, like handling something fragile.
Saval stilled.
Semiel's breathing shallowed. He felt each pulse in his throat. No words came, but he left his hand there, waiting.
Saval didn't pull away.
And in that wordless moment, Semiel understood: what they were building wasn't a mistake. It was real.
Something terrifying.
Something worth it.