Chapter 17 - The Things We Don't Say
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Halfway Through the School Year | Morning
The classroom looked the same — faded posters still clung to the walls, the same dusty windows let in the soft gold of winter sunlight. But something felt different. Not bad. Just… quieter.
Save sat next to Patji, his elbow resting lazily on the desk, chin propped up on his hand. He wasn't tired, exactly. Just drifting.
The teacher's voice in the background was a hum. Pages flipped, pens scratched. Patji whispered a bad joke about the lesson, and Save chuckled softly. They were used to this rhythm now — sitting together, sharing snacks at break, walking home when the day ended.
Everything felt normal. Comfortable.
From across the room, a familiar laugh echoed.
Save glanced up. Auau.
He was leaned back in his chair, telling Por something with a lazy grin, eyes warm and distant. That laugh — Save remembered it. Not in a forced way. It had just… settled in him somewhere, like a favorite lyric.
Their eyes met — only for a second.
Auau didn't smile or wave. Just a small nod. A little knowing.
Save returned the nod, lips tugging into the tiniest smile.
The moment passed, and the classroom returned to its usual noise.
But something in Save lingered. Not quite longing. Not quite missing. Just… something.
---
The cafeteria was alive with clatter and conversation as students lined up for lunch. Save entered, half-lost in his thoughts, his bag still slung over one shoulder.
At their regular table near the window, Patji was already waving frantically. "Save! We saved your spot! Hurry before Por eats all the curry!"
Por looked up, mouth full, and mumbled, "I did not!"
Auau leaned back, fanning himself dramatically. "Lies! He took two extra dumplings and said it was 'accidental hunger.'
Por grinned. "Still not sorry."
Save finally dropped into his seat beside them, the corners of his lips lifting just slightly. "You guys are too loud."
"That's called personality," Patji said, offering him one of his mom's homemade rice balls — this one shaped like a sleeping cat. "You look dead. Eat."
"Thanks," Save said, taking it quietly.
Auau leaned on the table with a dramatic sigh. "So, what's up with you? You usually roll into lunch like a k-drama prince. Today you look like a background character."
"I'm fine," Save muttered.
Por frowned. "You sure? You haven't even made fun of Patji's hair yet."
"Hey!" Patji yelped, patting his head. "It's called volume, okay?"
The group burst into laughter — except Save, who smiled faintly but still looked distant.
Patji nudged him. "Talk to us, Save."
Auau chimed in, voice softer this time, "We're not just here for the jokes, you know."
Save looked at them — Por happily munching away, Auau giving him a side-smile, and Patji with his usual loud kindness — and suddenly the weight in his chest didn't feel so heavy.
"It's nothing," he said. "Just tired."
They didn't push him. Instead, Por slid his milk carton toward Save.
"You need calcium for energy."
"That's not how it works," Save said, finally chuckling.
"It's the thought that counts," Por replied proudly.
---
Evening. The soft clink of utensils, a kettle gently boiling, and the faint sound of wind outside the kitchen window. The kitchen is warm with the smell of ginger and cardamom. Save is standing at the counter, quietly slicing vegetables. His mom is stirring something in a pan, not saying much at first. It's peaceful, almost like a pause in the day.
MOM
(quietly, while stirring)
"You've been quiet lately."
SAVE
(still slicing)
"I guess I've just been thinking."
MOM
(smiles slightly)
"That's what your eyes look like when you're thinking. Kind of… far away."
(Save gives a soft smile but doesn't look up.)
MOM
"You used to talk so much when you were little. Every day after school — stories, questions, dreams. Now I have to catch moments like this just to hear your voice."
SAVE
(playfully)
"Maybe I grew up."
MOM
(sits at the table with two cups of tea)
"Growing up doesn't mean you have to stop speaking."
(Save brings the vegetables over, sits down beside her. There's a small, quiet beat between them.)
MOM
"Sometimes I wonder what's going on in your head. But I try not to push. I remember how that feels… when the world gets a little loud inside and someone keeps asking, 'What's wrong?'"
SAVE
(nods slowly)
"Yeah."
MOM
"You don't have to tell me everything. I don't expect that. But you can tell me anything."
(A soft silence. Save sips the tea. It's hot and grounding. He watches the steam curl.)
MOM
"You know, when I was your age, I used to write letters to people I never sent."
SAVE
(looks at her)
"Why?"
MOM
"I think it helped. Even if the person never read it… at least I knew what I felt. And sometimes, that's enough. To know it yourself."
(Save doesn't say anything, but his expression changes — just a little. Something thoughtful passes through his eyes.)
MOM
(leans back, more softly)
"Some things… if you don't say them, they never get said."
(Save slowly nods. He knows she's not asking him to speak — she's just offering him a space. One that feels safe. Familiar. Kind.)
MOM
"And even if you don't say it out loud… write it. Whisper it. Feel it. Just don't let it turn into a knot."
SAVE
(very quietly)
"…Okay."
(Another pause. Not uncomfortable — just real.)
MOM
(smiling gently)
"You want more sugar in your tea?"
SAVE
(small laugh)
"No, it's perfect."
They sit together. Steam. Silence. Warmth. A kind of unspoken love that doesn't need naming.
---
Night wraps around the house like a soft blanket. The window is slightly open, letting in a quiet breeze that rustles the edge of Save's notebook. The lights are dim. A single desk lamp glows beside him.
Save sits on his bed, legs crossed, holding the black cat plushie close. He presses his cheek to its soft head for a second, then pulls away and looks at it like it's about to answer him.
He sighs, glances at his phone — screen off.
Then his eyes drop to the notebook.
He flips to a blank page.
Save Pov:
"I don't know what I'm doing. I don't even know if he feels the same."
"But… I want to say something. Even if I can't send it yet."
He picks up a pen. His hand hesitates above the page.
Then he writes.
At first, it's messy. He scratches words out. Rewrites. Tries again.
Lines like:
"I think I like the way you talk about stars like they're your friends."
"I think I started noticing you before I even meant to."
"I didn't know I was allowed to feel like this."
He pauses. Breathes in. Rereads the last part.
Then, at the bottom of the page, he writes slowly:
"I think I like you. I think I want to tell you."
He stares at the words.
He doesn't tear the page out.
He doesn't hide it.
He just closes the notebook softly and sets it on the table. The plushie is beside it, watching in its silent way.
Save (softly):
"Not just watching anymore."
He lies back on his bed. The room is quiet. But inside him, something has shifted. Not loud. But strong.
A beginning.
---
The late afternoon sun was warm on their backs as Save and Patji walked home together, taking the quieter path behind the school. Their bags swung lightly with each step, and the cicadas hummed in the trees.
Patji broke the silence with a light laugh.
"Today felt weird, right? Everyone was acting like something big happened."
Save gave a tiny nod, eyes ahead.
Patji nudged him. "Even Auau was kinda... off. Like he wanted to say something but kept stopping himself."
Save hesitated, then asked quietly,
> "Do you think people… know when they like someone?"
Patji glanced at him with a small smirk, but his voice stayed soft.
> "Mmm… usually when they start noticing everything about that person. Even the small stuff. Like… how they laugh. Or the way they sit during lunch."
Save looked down, a tiny smile forming.
"Even when they don't say anything?"
Patji shrugged, warm and teasing.
> "Especially then."
They kept walking, the mood gentle — like something was quietly blooming.
---
Save sits at his desk, the pages of his textbook half-turned. His pen has stopped moving. The room is quiet, except for the hum of the fan and the ticking of the small wall clock above his head.
A warm pool of lamplight surrounds him — soft and golden — but his focus is elsewhere.
On the desk, right beside his notes, sits the small black cat plushie.
It's leaning slightly to one side, like it's listening. Waiting.
Save stares at it, then reaches out gently — almost like he's afraid to disturb it — but he doesn't pick it up. Just brushes the plush tail with his fingers and pulls his hand back.
His eyes shift to his phone.
He picks it up, hesitates, then opens Auau's chat.
The empty message box stares back at him.
He types something simple:
> "What are you doing?"
Stares at it.
Deletes it.
Types again:
> "I think the cat's name is... Loneliness."
Then immediately backspaces every letter.
A sigh slips from him — barely a sound, but full of weight.
He tosses the phone lightly onto the bed. It lands beside his pillow with a small thud. He doesn't look back at it.
He leans on the desk with both arms and buries his face in the crook of his elbow. Just for a moment.
When he sits back up, his eyes move — not to the cat, not to the phone — but to the shelf across from him.
Tucked between old school files and a dusty trophy is that book.
It's still untouched.
He gets up, walks over, pulls the book out slowly.
The cover feels familiar now. Like a name you don't say out loud, but always remember.
He sits on the edge of the bed, holding the book in both hands, thumb brushing the edge like he might open it.
He doesn't.
Instead, he just stares at the cover.
And says softly — like he's trying the words out on his own breath:
> "Maybe I'm not just watching anymore."
He hugs the book gently to his chest.
Then lies back, staring at the ceiling.
The plush cat is still sitting at the desk, facing his empty chair.
Save closes his eyes.
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— End of Chapter 17 —