### **Chapter 1: Shrouded in Shadows**
Zaryn Star never understood why people felt the need to fill the silence with their thoughts. He could sit through hours of quiet, unbothered by the lack of conversation, comfortable in the stillness that seemed to choke others. It wasn't that he disliked people—he just didn't get them. The way they reacted to everything, their need for constant validation, emotional highs and lows over things that didn't matter. It was all… unnecessary. Zaryn didn't see the point.
He flicked his hood up over his head, hiding his face from the rain as he trudged through the downpour. The cold didn't bother him, and the wet chill soaking through his worn-out black hoodie barely registered. It was just another sensation, like everything else, and Zaryn wasn't one to get caught up in sensations.
The world felt muted, even on days like this. As he made his way toward his destination—an old, crumbling house on the outskirts of town—he barely registered the cars splashing by, or the sound of distant thunder rolling through the heavy, clouded sky. This was just routine. The walk, the rain, the grayness of it all. Zaryn's thoughts wandered somewhere else as his body moved through the familiar route, more out of habit than purpose. His boots splashed through puddles, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his hoodie, fingers toying absentmindedly with his phone.
He didn't know why he was going to see her. There wasn't a particular reason. Zaryn never had reasons. He just did things. People always asked him *why*—why he said something, why he showed up, why he didn't care. As if *reasons* were necessary for everything. It was exhausting.
Finally, he arrived at the house. It stood like a monument to decay, barely holding together with its rotting wood and sagging porch. The windows were cracked, the paint was peeling, and the whole place seemed to scream neglect. But it was quiet here. Nobody bothered them in places like this.
Zaryn pulled his phone out, barely noticing the raindrops trickling down his screen. He sent a short text, his thumb moving sluggishly across the cracked glass.
**I'm outside.**
No greeting. No explanation. Just the fact. That was enough, wasn't it?
The front door creaked open a few moments later, revealing Nadia.
Nadia Ainsley was Zaryn's only connection to something resembling a friend, if you could call it that. She stood in the doorway like a figure cut from the night itself—dressed in torn black jeans, a band tee with some obscure name scrawled across the front, and her ever-present hoodie that hung off her frame like a ghost. Black eyeliner rimmed her stormy eyes, the kind of eyes that always looked like they were seeing something no one else could.
She didn't say anything at first, and neither did he. She didn't *need* to. Words were overrated, anyway.
"You're late," she finally muttered, her voice low, like it always was—barely above a whisper, but still heavy, as if it carried something beneath the surface.
Zaryn shrugged, walking past her into the house. "Does it matter?"
She let the door shut behind him, locking the outside world away. The house smelled of incense and old wood. Faded posters of forgotten bands covered the walls, half-hidden beneath layers of dust and shadow. Candles burned low on a chipped table in the corner, casting flickering, half-hearted light that didn't seem to reach the edges of the room.
"Not really," she replied, her tone indifferent. "Just thought you'd be faster."
He didn't bother responding. He kicked off his boots and slumped into the only chair that wasn't covered in random crap—books, old clothes, or half-empty coffee mugs. Nadia disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him to soak in the silence. He liked her house. It was quiet here, dead in a way that felt alive. Not like school or the streets, where everything felt like it was happening *at* him instead of *around* him. Here, it was like the world had forgotten about this place, and he could forget about it in return.
Nadia came back with two mugs of coffee, one of which she shoved into his hand without saying a word. He took it and stared down at the swirling black liquid. The bitter smell reached his nose, but he barely noticed. He wasn't one for taste or smell—those things were just details. They didn't really register with him unless they were overwhelming, and even then, he didn't care enough to react.
"So," Nadia began, collapsing onto the couch across from him. She stretched out like a cat, dark strands of her hair falling into her face. "You gonna say anything, or are we just gonna sit here in moody silence?"
Zaryn took a sip of the coffee. It was lukewarm, and way too bitter, but that was the way she liked it. "Dunno what you expect me to say," he replied after a pause. "It's not like I've got anything new to talk about."
Nadia smirked, though it wasn't really a happy smirk. It was more like she was humoring the emptiness between them. "Right. Same shit, different day."
That's what it always was with them—comfortable silence, occasional words exchanged just to remind each other that they were still there. Zaryn liked it that way. No pressure. No expectation to be anything other than what he was: emotionally distant, detached from everything.
He stared out the window. The rain hadn't let up. It was a steady sheet of gray that seemed to cover the world outside, blurring the edges of reality. He kind of liked it. It made everything feel far away.
"Why do you keep coming over?" Nadia's voice broke through his thoughts, not like a sudden sharp noise, but more like a quiet suggestion that he couldn't ignore. She wasn't looking at him. She was staring at the ceiling, her legs dangling over the arm of the couch.
Zaryn shrugged, still staring at the rain. "I don't know. Nowhere else to be, I guess."
"Hmm." That was all she said in response. It wasn't like her to dig too deep. She knew better than most people that asking questions didn't always get answers.
The quiet between them stretched out again, comfortable in its stillness. Zaryn could almost feel the weight of his body sinking into the chair, the warmth of the coffee doing nothing to cut through the cold that clung to him like a second skin.
He didn't know why he kept coming here. Maybe it was because Nadia didn't expect him to talk, to feel, to *be* anything more than what he was. She didn't try to fix him. She didn't even seem to care that he was broken in the first place. She was just… there. Like the rain. Like the silence.
And for Zaryn, that was enough.
Eventually, Nadia broke the quiet again. "Do you ever wonder if this is it? Like, all there is?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper, lost in the flicker of candlelight and the steady patter of rain against the windows.
Zaryn thought about it for a moment, then shrugged again. "I don't really wonder about stuff like that. Things just are. Doesn't matter why."
"Yeah," she murmured, her eyes still fixed on the ceiling. "I guess it doesn't."
They stayed like that, both of them lost in their own muted worlds, the unspoken understanding between them hanging heavy in the room. Neither of them needed answers. Neither of them needed anything at all.
Just the rain. The silence. And the emptiness that they carried with them, together.
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End of Chapter 1.