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"Can we hold hand?" was the first phrase Zweitson ever uttered to Fiki. Between the whirring sounds of the bus engines, on the last day of march.
"Huh?" Fiki was lost for words, not expecting the cat-like boy to say anything at all just like the other times.
Hesitation was shown on Zweitson's face shortly after. He scrunched his nose in distaste, probably not liking the way his heart skipped faster for someone whom he never even talked to before.
"Never mind."
Fiki's house is just few blocks away from his, so they got off at the same bus stop down the street. they never once planned to take the same bus every time. It just happened that the theatre and basketball practice end at around the same time, every day, for a whole semester. And naturally, their seat distance got shorter and shorter. until they finally decided that the best seats are in the far back of the bus, right next to each other. Though with all that, they never spoke, not even a single word.
The bus ride continued to be quiet after that. And it almost felt like they'd be back to square one. Zweitson blamed himself for making things even more awkward between them, and Fiki blamed himself for not being able to guess the true meaning behind Zweitson's words.
They could simply ignore the awkwardness in the air and went on with their life, yet they might not be seated beside each other again tomorrow.
Fiki didn't want that, so he held Zweitson's right hand and took it to his jacket's pocket.
"Sure."