zaire wasn't sure when it started.

maybe it was the night she let her walls down, just for a moment. the way her voice softened when she admitted the weight of always being seen, of constantly curating her life for an audience. or maybe it was even before that—those fleeting moments in between, the way she lingered a little longer each time, like she was waiting for something neither of them could name.

whatever it was, he noticed.

and, despite everything, he didn't push her away.

it started subtly.

demitra would show up at places he never expected to see her. not in an obvious way—she wasn't following him or anything—but he couldn't ignore how their paths kept crossing more often than they probably should.

one afternoon, he was sitting at a small coffee shop off-campus, sketchbook open, half-distracted by the hum of conversation around him. then, just like that, she was there.

"funny seeing you here," she said, sliding into the seat across from him like she belonged there.

zaire glanced up, one brow raised. "is it?"

she smirked. "okay, maybe not. the matcha here is elite."

he shook his head but didn't argue. instead, he closed his sketchbook, reaching for his coffee. "thought you were supposed to be filming today."

she sighed, stretching her arms over her head before slumping against the seat. "got postponed. apparently, the 'vibe' wasn't right."

zaire scoffed. "the vibe?"

she grinned. "yeah. very serious business."

"sounds like bullshit."

"it is," she admitted, stealing a sip of her drink. "but i'm not complaining. gives me an excuse to chill."

zaire didn't know why that surprised him. she was always moving, always curating, always on. but here, now, she looked... relaxed. sweater slipping off one shoulder, curls loosely tied up, rings clinking softly as she toyed with her straw.

he looked away before she could catch him staring.

"so," she said, propping her chin on her hand, "what're you working on?"

he hesitated. normally, he hated showing people his sketches before they were finished. but something about demitra made it easy to let his guard down. without a word, he slid the sketchbook across the table.

she took it carefully, like it was something fragile. flipping through the pages, her brows furrowed in concentration. "these are insane," she murmured, fingers grazing over the pencil strokes. "it's like... i don't know. like i can feel what they're thinking."

zaire swallowed, caught off guard by the way her voice softened. "that's the goal."

she glanced up, meeting his eyes. "you're really good, zaire."

he didn't know what to do with that.

so he just nodded, taking his sketchbook back and flipping it shut.

but demitra didn't leave. she stayed.

and it kept happening.

ིྀ

over the next few weeks, their conversations started stretching longer. what used to be playful debates turned into something quieter, something that settled between them like an unspoken understanding.

one night, they ended up on a rooftop. he didn't remember how they got there—just that demitra had texted him, something about needing fresh air. now, she was sitting beside him, legs dangling over the edge, the city sprawling below them.

"do you ever think about just... disappearing for a while?" she asked suddenly.

zaire frowned. "like... running away?"

she huffed out a laugh. "not permanently. just—taking a break. being somewhere no one knows you for a bit."

he thought about it. "sometimes."

she glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "would you actually do it?"

zaire considered lying. instead, he said, "i don't know."

demitra hummed in understanding. then, after a pause, she nudged his knee with hers. "if you did, where would you go?"

he exhaled, leaning back on his hands. "somewhere quiet. not too far, but different enough that it doesn't feel the same."

she smiled, small but real. "that sounds nice."

the breeze tugged at her curls, strands slipping free from her loose bun. she didn't seem to notice, but zaire did. just like he noticed the way she hugged her arms around herself when the wind picked up, or how she sighed a little too heavily sometimes, like she was carrying more than she let on.

he didn't say anything about it. just shrugged off his hoodie and handed it to her.

demitra blinked, caught off guard for a second, before taking it.

but her attention flickered—just briefly—to the way his t-shirt shifted as he moved, fabric stretching over his arms. she had noticed before, in passing, that zaire was built, but it was different now, up close like this. his forearms, lean but strong, flexed slightly as he adjusted his sleeve, and for the first time, she saw the ink etched into his skin.

a series of tattoos, scattered but deliberate, marked his arms—some small, intricate designs, others bold, commanding attention. a geometric pattern ran along the inside of his wrist, a phrase in delicate script curling near his elbow. she couldn't quite make out the words, but they looked worn into him, like something permanent. like something that mattered.

she didn't know why she cared so much.

but she did.

she pulled the hoodie over her head, the fabric warm, carrying the faintest hint of his cologne—something subtle, clean, a little woody. it was too big on her, swallowing her frame, sleeves hanging loose past her hands.

"thanks," she murmured, her voice quieter than she expected.

zaire just nodded, like it wasn't a big deal, like he hadn't just casually wrecked her whole train of thought.

and so she did what she always did—tilted her head, smirked, and let the words fall before she could stop herself.

"didn't know you had tattoos," she mused, feigning nonchalance. "kinda hot."

zaire raised a brow, unimpressed. "kinda?"

she grinned. "i'm being generous."

he huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "yeah, okay."

but demitra didn't miss the way his lips twitched, or the way he flexed his fingers absentmindedly, the ink on his skin shifting with the motion.

she hesitated for only a second before pulling it on, sleeves hanging past her fingers. "thanks," she murmured.

zaire just nodded, looking out over the skyline.

they sat in silence for a long time. not awkward. just... easy.

and that was the part that scared him.

ིྀ

another night, she found him in the library.

zaire usually studied alone. people were distracting, too loud, too invasive. but demitra...

she slid into the seat across from him without asking, setting her iced coffee down with a soft clink. "hey."

he sighed. "should i start reserving a seat for you at all times?"

she grinned. "that'd be cute, actually."

zaire rolled his eyes but didn't argue. instead, he leaned back, watching as she pulled out her laptop. "what are you even doing here?"

"editing," she said, pulling up a video project. "and also avoiding people."

he raised a brow. "you, avoiding people? shocking."

she smirked. "i make exceptions."

zaire ignored the way his stomach flipped at that.

they worked in silence for a while, but after an hour, demitra let out an exaggerated groan and closed her laptop.

"i'm starving," she announced. "wanna get lunch?"

zaire hesitated. "you want to go eat with me?"

she shot him a look. "don't make it weird. i just want food. and you happen to be here."

he huffed a laugh. "fine."

they ended up at a small spot near campus, one of those hole-in-the-wall places that always had the best food. the second they walked in, the smell of grilled chicken and fresh herbs hit them.

demitra skimmed the menu before glancing at zaire. "what's good here?"

"everything," he said, then pointed at one of the combos. "but this one's my go-to."

she nodded and ordered the same thing.

when their food came out, she took one bite and immediately groaned. "okay, you were right. this is insane."

zaire smirked. "told you."

she nudged his foot under the table. "don't get cocky."

he just shook his head, sipping his drink.

after a few minutes, demitra sighed, picking at her fries. "this is nice," she admitted. "i don't think i've actually sat down for a real meal with someone in weeks."

zaire frowned. "seriously?"

"yeah. everything's always so... rushed. or on camera. i forget how nice it is to just exist."

zaire studied her for a moment, then nodded like he understood something she didn't.

and for the first time in a long time, he wasn't sure who was pulling who into whose orbit.

but he wasn't fighting it.

not anymore.