It happened quietly. So quietly that Elian almost missed it.
They sat on the bus the next morning, shoulders aligned but not touching. The city passed outside in gray streaks, familiar now, almost comforting. Juni shifted beside him.
Once. Twice.
Then his hand—careful, tentative—rested on the edge of the seat between them.
Not touching. But close enough to feel intentional.
Elian noticed his own instinct immediately: to close the distance, to reassure, to do something.
He didn't. He stayed still.
The bus rattled over a bump. Juni's fingers curled slightly, knuckles whitening.
Elian adjusted his posture—not toward Juni, but just enough that his arm rested naturally against the side of the seat.
Their hands brushed. Barely.
Juni inhaled sharply Didn't pull away. Neither did Elian. They stayed like that—two hands touching by accident that no longer felt accidental.
In class, Juni spoke more. Not much. But enough. He leaned over once to whisper a question, breath warm against Elian's ear.
Elian answered quietly, aware of how carefully Juni watched him—not for answers, but for reactions.
Elian kept his voice calm. Normal. Safe. Juni smiled faintly and returned to his work.
At lunch, Juni hesitated with his tray near Elian's table.
Elian didn't wave. Didn't call out. He simply shifted his bag to the empty seat across from him. Juni took it. They ate in comfortable silence, the kind that didn't demand explanation.
Someone laughed nearby. Juni flinched—then steadied himself.
Elian noticed. Said nothing. Juni stayed.
The bus stop was bright with late afternoon light. Juni lingered as Elian stood, watching clouds drift lazily overhead.
"…I'm sorry," Juni said suddenly.
Elian turned. "For what?"
"For disappearing," Juni said. "I didn't mean to make you feel… pushed away."
Elian considered his words carefully. "I didn't feel pushed away," he said. "I felt… paused."
Juni huffed a small laugh. "…That's fair."
They boarded the bus together. Sat together. No hesitation this time. As the bus pulled away from the curb, Juni's shoulder leaned lightly against Elian's.
Just for a second. Then longer.
Elian let himself breathe. This time, when their hands touched—Neither moved.