Later that afternoon, Shade showered until the water started to cool.
Not because she needed to be clean—but because it made her feel reset.
She sat on her bed in a bathrobe soft enough to feel unreal, fanning her damp hair while the afternoon sun laid warm rectangles across the floor. Her bedroom was minimalistic: a wardrobe, a nightstand, and the bed—double-sized, layered with pillows and blankets like it was built for hiding.
Her safest place.
The lamp on the nightstand was on, of course.Even during daytime.
She liked the way it made the room feel guarded. Like darkness couldn't sneak up on her.
No one would expect a girl like her to live like this.That was the point.
This softness wasn't for anyone.It was a secret.
When her hair finally stopped clinging to her skin, she lay back against the pillows and picked up her phone.
Blaze's profile was still there.
It stared at her like a dare.
She told herself it was just an opener — a professional invitation.
It shouldn't be a big deal.
So why did her thumb hesitate like it was about to step off a cliff?
She opened a new chat.
She started typing.
Hi
She deleted it.
Too vulnerable.
She tried again.
Hello, Blaze. My name is Shade. I'm reaching out regarding—
Delete
Too formal.
She exhaled, annoyed at herself, and sat up.
"This is ridiculous," she muttered to the empty room.
Her fingers moved again.
I saw your performance.
She paused.
Her stomach tightened, the same way it did when she watched Blaze on stage—like something inside her woke up and didn't know what to do with itself.
She wasn't scared of people.
She was scared of this.
She deleted it again.
Shade stared at the blank chat bar.
Her pendant pressed lightly against her chest—a reflex.
Then she typed, faster this time—before she could think.
Hey. I'm Shade — I'm part of Echora.I saw you perform with Neon Static and I wanted to ask if you'd be open to chat. We're recruiting two members, and I think you'd be a perfect fit.
She reread it.
Once.
Twice.
Her heart beat like it was trying to protest.
It was just a message.
She hit send.
The bubble flew upward.
Delivered.
Done.
She stared at the screen like it might change its mind and take it back.
Nothing happened.
Of course nothing happened.
Her pulse stayed loud.
She didn't understand what Blaze did to her.
It wasn't just admiration—at least not in a way Shade knew how to name.
It was… something worse.
The phone stayed silent.
Shade's throat tightened.
She hated waiting.
So she did what she always did when she felt too much:
She stayed perfectly still and pretended she wasn't.
Later it changed.
'Read' appears.
No reply.