The Day Of Confession

Eight months have already passed.

Eight months of sharing a bench, sharing glances, sharing pieces of themselves in quiet ways neither of them fully understood. Eight months of holding back feelings that refused to stay hidden.

And Rohan couldn’t do it anymore.

The annual function had just ended. Everyone was loud, tired, laughing their way onto buses. But Rohan had other plans.

“Let’s not take the bus today,” he said casually, nudging Vihaan with a crooked smile. “Let’s walk a bit. Clear our heads.”

Vihaan hesitated, but nodded. Being alone with Rohan wasn’t scary anymore. It was... safe.

The streets were quieter than usual. A gentle breeze rustled through the trees, and streetlights cast long shadows. They didn’t talk much as they walked. But it wasn’t awkward. It was just them—like always.

Then they passed a small park. Empty. Still. Lit only by one flickering lamp near the benches.

Rohan stopped. “Let’s sit here. Just for a few minutes.”

Vihaan looked around. “It’s kinda late…”

“I know. Just a bit. Please?”

He nodded again, heart already doing that weird, nervous thing it always did when Rohan got serious.

They sat down.

Rohan didn’t speak right away. He just looked at Vihaan for a second—really looked. And Vihaan could feel it. Something was coming.

Then, Rohan turned to face him completely, pulling one leg up on the bench, sitting cross-legged. His voice was soft, almost careful.

“Vihaan… I’ve been holding this in for a while. And maybe I shouldn’t say it, but I need to.”

Vihaan felt everything inside him tighten.

“I like you,” Rohan said, finally. “More than a friend. More than just someone to laugh with during lunch or sit next to in class. I don’t know exactly when it happened, but it’s real. And if you don’t feel the same, it’s okay. I just… I needed you to know. You deserve to know.”

Silence.

Vihaan couldn’t speak. His mouth opened slightly, then closed again. His hands clenched into fists in his lap. His chest was aching—because he felt the same, had felt it for so long—but fear wrapped around him like a chain.

And before he could say anything…

Tears.

Soft, soundless, slipping down his cheeks. Not out of sadness for Rohan. But out of frustration at himself. Because he wanted to say it back. Needed to. But his voice failed him.

“I’m sorry,” Vihaan finally whispered, his voice shaking. “I—I can’t—”

Rohan didn’t let him finish. He moved closer, gently placing a hand on Vihaan’s shoulder.

“Hey. It’s okay,” he said, voice calm and warm. “You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t tell you to get something back. I just… wanted to be honest.”

Vihaan shook his head, eyes still full, breathing shaky. “It’s not that I don’t feel it. I do. I just… I get scared.”

“I know,” Rohan said, pulling him into a light hug—nothing too tight, just enough to make Vihaan feel grounded. “I figured. That’s why I’m not going anywhere.”

Vihaan rested his head lightly against Rohan’s shoulder, still wiping at his eyes.

Rohan smiled to himself.

It wasn’t a perfect moment.

But it was real.

And sometimes, real was even better.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

Not the comfortable kind they usually shared, but something heavier—like the air between them had turned too thick to breathe. Rohan kept smiling, kept saying things like “No pressure, okay?” and “We’re still good.” And Vihaan kept nodding, eyes down, wiping away the last of his tears.

But the truth was… Rohan’s heart had cracked.

Not because Vihaan rejected him—he hadn’t, not really. But because Rohan had hoped, just for a second, that maybe this would be their moment. That maybe Vihaan would smile, even shyly, and say, “Me too.”

But he didn’t. And Rohan understood. He did.

Still, it didn’t stop the ache.

When he got home, he tossed his bag aside, ignored the dinner his mom left on the table, and dragged himself to his room. The second the door clicked shut behind him, the weight hit harder.

He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, hands hanging limply.

And then he just folded into himself—head down, face buried between his arms, knees drawn up tight.

The quiet of the room was deafening.

He didn’t cry, not at first. He just sat there, letting all the memories of the past eight months pour in like rain.

Vihaan laughing for the first time at his joke.

Vihaan falling asleep on his shoulder during a late study session.

Vihaan looking at him like he wanted to say something but never did.

Vihaan, tonight, with tears in his eyes and silence in his throat.

Rohan let out a breath that was too close to a sob. His chest felt hollow. Like he gave away a part of himself that might never come back.

He didn’t mean to fall asleep.

But exhaustion took over—the emotional kind that wraps around your bones and pulls you under. And somewhere between replaying Vihaan’s face in the park and hearing again the words he never got back, Rohan drifted off, still curled up on the edge of the bed.

Still holding on to hope.

Even if it hurt.

.........

Vihaan lay on his bed, the room dark except for the faint streetlight bleeding through the curtains.

He’d wiped his tears before saying goodbye to Rohan. Forced a shaky smile. Nodded when Rohan said, “It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t.

Not for him.

He stared at the ceiling, motionless, as the scene kept replaying in his head on loop. The park. The way Rohan sat in front of him, voice low, hands nervous. The way he said “I like you.” So gently. Like he was offering a fragile piece of himself.

And Vihaan… said nothing.

He wanted to. God, he wanted to. His heart had screamed the answer a hundred times while his mouth stayed frozen shut.

I feel the same. I’ve felt the same for so long. But I’m scared. Still scared.

He turned onto his side, pressing his face into the pillow. His throat ached with all the words he didn’t say. His chest felt too tight, like it was trying to hold back an ocean.

And the tears came again.

Silently this time. No sobs. Just that slow, helpless kind of crying where the tears slide down on their own, warm and steady, like they’ve been waiting all day to fall.

Vihaan clutched the edge of his blanket.

If only I could trust my own heart a little more.

If only I didn’t freeze every time something real happens.

If only I could go back. Just for a second. Just enough to say “me too.”

But the moment had passed.

And all he had now was the echo of Rohan’s voice in his head… and the way it cracked just a little when Vihaan stayed silent.

He closed his eyes.

Not to sleep.

But to escape.

If only for a little while.

...----------------...

Will this be end ....or something will come up saving this moment 🤍