The shift was subtle at first.
Lila still sat with Selene at lunch, still showed up in the music room after school, still sketched
with quiet concentration while Selene played.
But something was different.
Gone were the teasing smirks, the playful nudges, the knowing glances that sent shivers down
Selene's spine.
Lila wasn't distant—at least, not in the obvious way. She still smiled, still laughed at jokes, still
listened when Selene spoke. But the spark, the thing that had been crackling between them like
an electric current, was missing.
And Selene hated how much she noticed it.
How much it bothered her.
How much she wanted it back.
She told herself it was nothing.
Lila was just having an off week. Maybe she was tired, distracted, caught up in something else.
But the longer it went on, the more it gnawed at her.
Lila wasn't teasing her. Wasn't watching her in that way that made Selene feel seen. Wasn't
touching her—no casual shoulder bumps, no fingers grazing hers when passing a pencil, no
light pressure of a hand on her knee when she made a particularly sarcastic remark.
She was just… normal.
And Selene hated it. ---
It started to affect her in ways she didn't expect.
In class, she found herself distracted, unable to focus on her notes because her mind kept
looping over every conversation they'd had in the past few days, searching for
something—anything—that might explain why things had changed.
At lunch, she barely touched her food, glancing up every few seconds to check if Lila was
looking at her. She wasn't.
After school, as they walked together toward the music room, Selene tried to tell herself she
was imagining it.
But she wasn't.
Because even now, as they stepped inside and Lila sat down on the floor with her sketchpad,
she didn't look at Selene the way she usually did.
She wasn't ignoring her, not exactly.
But she also wasn't paying attention.
And Selene didn't know why that made her stomach twist so painfully.
She sat at the piano, fingers hovering over the keys.
She could feel the silence stretching between them, pressing in, heavier than before.
She needed to say something.
She needed to break whatever this was.
But instead, she played.
Soft, hesitant notes at first, then something more fluid. A melody she didn't recognize,
something improvised, something searching.
Still, Lila didn't react.
Selene swallowed hard.
"This is the part where you usually make fun of me for playing sad music," she said, forcing a
lightness into her voice that she didn't feel.
Lila glanced up, blinking like she had just realized Selene was speaking.
"Oh. Sorry. I was just… thinking."
Selene hesitated. "About what?"
Lila shrugged. "Stuff."
Stuff.
A vague, meaningless answer.
Selene tried not to let it bother her.
She failed.
She kept playing, fingers moving almost mechanically, but her mind wasn't on the music
anymore.
Her mind was on Lila.
On the way she was acting.
On the way she wasn't acting.
And she hated how much it mattered. ---
It only got worse the next day.
Selene had told herself not to obsess. To act normal. To not care.
But the moment she saw Lila in the hallway, standing with their usual group, laughing at
something someone else said—something she hadn't said—Selene felt an irrational pang in her
chest.
She didn't understand it.
She had always been fine on her own.
She had spent years mastering the art of being alone, of not needing anyone, of keeping herself
at a distance where nothing could hurt.
But now?
Now she felt like she had stepped too close to something warm, something bright—only to have
it flicker away before she could reach it.
And she didn't know why.
She spent the day trapped in her own head, hyper-aware of Lila, of every little moment where
she might normally linger—but didn't.
Lunch was the worst.
Selene sat in her usual spot, tray untouched, waiting.
Lila sat across from her, sketchpad open, the way she always did.
But she wasn't engaged.
She wasn't throwing playful remarks at Selene. She wasn't nudging her knee under the table.
She wasn't pulling her attention away from the rest of the world like she always did.
She was just… there.
And Selene had never felt more alone in a crowded room. ---
She lasted three more days before she snapped.
Not in an obvious way.
Not in the way that anyone else would notice.
But in the way that mattered.
It was after school, and they were in the music room again.
Lila was sketching. Selene was playing.
Or trying to.
But the frustration in her chest had built up too much, and now the notes sounded wrong,
disjointed, too sharp where they should be soft.
She stopped abruptly, hands still on the keys.
Lila didn't look up.
Selene clenched her jaw.
"You're ignoring me."
The words came out before she could stop them.
Lila blinked, finally glancing up. "What?"
Selene swallowed hard. "You're ignoring me," she said again, quieter this time.
Lila's brows furrowed. "I'm not—"
"You are."
Selene didn't mean for it to sound like an accusation.
But it did.
And Lila looked at her, really looked at her, like she was trying to figure something out.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, finally—
"I didn't think you'd notice," Lila admitted, voice softer now.
Selene's breath caught.
"Why wouldn't I?" she asked, hating how raw her voice sounded.
Lila hesitated.
Then, with a small, almost apologetic smile—
"Because you usually don't."
Selene had no response to that.
Because it was true.
She had spent so long trying not to care.
Trying not to let herself get attached.
But now—
Now it was too late.
Now she was noticing everything.
Every glance that wasn't given.
Every touch that didn't happen.
Every tease that never came.
She was noticing, and it was wrecking her.
She wanted to tell Lila that she was wrong.
That Selene had always noticed.
That she had been noticing too much, for too long, and she didn't know what to do with it.
But instead, she just swallowed the lump in her throat and looked away.
And when she started playing again, her fingers shook against the keys.