### **Chapter 2: Unspoken Flames**
Nadia wasn't sure when it started. It wasn't like there was a specific moment, a single spark that lit the flame. No, it was more like a slow burn—one that snuck up on her when she wasn't paying attention, creeping into her chest without her noticing. Until it was too late.
But admitting it? Hell no. She wouldn't dare. Love wasn't something people like her could say out loud. She wasn't made for it. She was made for dark rooms, biting sarcasm, and cold coffee. She wasn't soft or warm. She wasn't like those girls at school who wore their hearts on their sleeves and flirted with boys over study groups and cafeteria lunches. No, Nadia kept her feelings locked behind walls so thick, even she couldn't find a way to break through them.
And Zaryn Star? He was the last person on Earth who'd ever get it.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye as they sat in her crumbling old living room. He looked like a statue—frozen in place, hood pulled up, face expressionless as ever. The rain outside had slowed to a light drizzle, but Zaryn didn't seem to notice. He never did. Sometimes, she wondered if anything got through to him. That blank stare of his made it hard to tell if he was even aware of the world around him, let alone anything deeper.
He was a mystery, wrapped in a layer of indifference so thick it was suffocating. And somehow, in all that cold detachment, she found herself falling for him. Maybe it was because she saw a part of herself in him—the part that didn't give a damn about what people thought, the part that floated through life as if it were a fog. Or maybe it was because she was just as emotionally fucked up as he was.
Not that it mattered. Zaryn never seemed to notice her beyond the surface. She was just the girl he hung out with when there was nothing better to do. That's what she told herself, anyway.
"Are you ever going to stop staring at the ceiling?" His voice cut through the silence like a dull knife, snapping her out of her thoughts.
Nadia shifted on the couch, looking away from him to hide the flush she felt creeping up her neck. "Maybe. Not like there's anything better to look at." She shrugged, trying to sound bored, detached. It was her defense mechanism—the only way she knew how to handle being close to him.
Zaryn didn't say anything to that. He just kept staring out the window, his mind clearly somewhere else. She wondered where he went when he disappeared like that, when his eyes lost focus, and the world slipped away from him. Was it a better place than here? Probably not. If she knew him at all, she knew his mind was a wasteland, much like hers—barely hanging on, barely caring about what happened next.
But even as he drifted off, lost in that unreachable void of his, there was something about him that kept pulling her back in. Something about the way he could just sit there, so still, so detached, yet somehow still *there*. She liked it. Hated it. Needed it.
"Do you ever think about… things?" She winced the second the words left her mouth. *Smooth, real smooth*.
Zaryn glanced at her, his face completely unreadable. "What kind of things?"
She wanted to disappear into the couch. Or the floor. Either worked. Why did she even ask? She didn't *do* conversations like this—especially not with him. But there it was, hanging in the air between them like a question mark too big to ignore.
"I don't know," she muttered, staring at her chipped black nails. "Just… things. Like why the hell we're even here. Or why we do anything."
Zaryn blinked, his eyes dull and distant as usual. "You're talking about, like, existence or something?"
"Yeah," she said quickly, eager to move the conversation away from anything resembling feelings. "Existence. That kind of shit."
Zaryn shrugged, his gaze turning back to the window. "Not really. It's all just stuff. Doesn't matter why. It just is."
There it was again. That total lack of concern, of care. It made her want to scream sometimes. *How can you be so fucking detached?* she wanted to ask. But instead, she leaned into it. That's what she did. She matched his indifference, even if it wasn't real.
"Yeah. Makes sense," she said flatly, her voice matching his emotionless tone. She played along because it was easier than confronting the mess inside her.
But inwardly? It hurt. It hurt because she *did* care. And she was terrified of it. Zaryn Star was like a black hole, swallowing everything in his path, and she was too stupid to realize she was already falling into it. She had been for a while now.
She cleared her throat, desperate to break the suffocating tension in her own chest. "You ever wonder why we keep hanging out?"
Zaryn tilted his head slightly, as if considering the question, but his expression stayed blank. "I dunno. It's easy, I guess."
*Easy.* That's all she was to him—easy. It was like a punch to the gut, but she kept her face neutral.
"Yeah. Sure." She tried to keep the edge out of her voice, but it was there, slicing through the air like the blade of a dull knife.
Zaryn didn't pick up on it, of course. He never picked up on anything. That was part of the problem. He could sit there for hours, staring at nothing, while she sat across from him, practically bleeding emotion from the inside, and he'd never notice.
In a way, she was envious. He seemed so unaffected by the world, so untouched by everything. Meanwhile, she was a storm waiting to break, her insides constantly churning with things she didn't know how to express.
Zaryn took another sip of his lukewarm coffee, completely oblivious to the fact that Nadia was unraveling right next to him.
"You gonna be at school tomorrow?" she asked, more out of habit than actual curiosity.
Zaryn shrugged again. "Maybe. Don't really see the point, though."
There it was. The apathy. The indifference. And yet, despite that—despite everything—she couldn't stop herself from feeling the way she did. The stupid, irrational, soul-crushing feelings that made her want to scream. She wished she could shut them off, like he seemed to have done with everything. But no matter how hard she tried, they were always there, lurking in the back of her mind.
Nadia stood up abruptly, brushing invisible lint off her jeans. "I'm getting more coffee," she muttered, heading for the kitchen before he could respond. She needed to get away from him for a second, even if it was just to catch her breath. Being around Zaryn was like suffocating and being addicted to it at the same time.
In the kitchen, she leaned against the counter, gripping the edge so hard her knuckles turned white. *God, you're so fucking stupid*, she thought, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Why couldn't she just *not* care? Why couldn't she just be like him—disconnected, apathetic, numb to everything?
But no. Instead, she was stuck with this crushing feeling inside her chest every time he was around. It was pathetic.
She heard footsteps behind her and opened her eyes. Zaryn had followed her into the kitchen, his expression still blank as ever.
"You okay?" he asked, and for a brief, ridiculous second, Nadia almost thought he actually cared.
But then she saw the look on his face—completely neutral, as if he were asking out of some mechanical sense of duty rather than genuine concern.
"Yeah," she muttered, turning her back to him. "Fine."
Zaryn lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, then turned and wandered back into the living room. She could hear the faint creak of the old chair as he slumped back into it.
Nadia stared into the empty coffee mug in her hands, her fingers trembling slightly. She wished she could just *tell* him. Tell him that he wasn't just some guy she hung out with because it was easy. Tell him that she felt something—something real, something heavy and terrifying.
But how the hell could she? Zaryn Star was a brick wall, and she didn't have the strength to break through it.
---
When she finally returned to the living room, Zaryn was still in the chair, his eyes half-closed as he stared into the dim light filtering through the cracked windows. The rain had stopped, but the world outside was still gray, still blurred.
Nadia sat back down on the couch, keeping her distance. The silence between them stretched on, comfortable in its own way, but suffocating for her in another. She wanted to say something. To break the silence with words she wasn't sure she had the courage to speak.
"So," she began, her voice quieter than usual. "Do you… ever feel like something's missing?"
Zaryn's eyes flickered toward her, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Missing?"
"Yeah," she said, fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie. "Like… something you can't quite put your finger on. Something that's supposed to be there but isn't."
He was quiet for a moment, and for once, Nadia thought she might have gotten through to him.