Chapter 25: The Space That Grows With Me
They walked side by side. But never close enough to touch.
Between them stretched a silence too deliberate to be accidental. Not heavy. Not angry. Just… charged. Like the air before a thunderstorm. Like something waiting to happen.
Aria kept glancing over, pretending not to. Selene's expression was unreadable again — calm, steady, maddeningly composed. Her blade was tucked under one arm, jacket slung over her shoulder, silver - blonde hair tousled by the breeze. She looked like a ghost who'd given up on haunting and decided to walk instead.
Aria adjusted the strap on her bag, not because it was slipping, but because she needed to do something with her hands. Zero, her pocket dimension, pulsed at her side like a secret she loved too much. It wasn't just space. It was hers. It responded to her. Every time she'd opened it earlier to stash more snacks, clothes, seafood, literal boxes of cereal — and baby shoes for some reason — it had felt like Zero was stretching with her, happily expanding to fit whatever she gave it. Like a pet dimension with endless appetite and attitude.
It made her feel powerful. Not in a scary way. In a whole way.
Aria was halfway lost in thought — imagining if she could someday make this place less bleak, maybe fake grass on the floor or string lights tangled in the corners. Something stupid, but hers.
Selene's voice cut through her head. "You okay?"
The words snapped Aria back.
"Yeah," she answered too quickly. "Why?"
Selene smirked without turning to look at her. "You keep staring at me like I'm gonna disappear."
Aria flushed. "I do not."
"Okay," Selene teased, voice dripping with amusement.
There was a beat of silence before Selene cocked a brow and smirked. "Elara, huh? I gotta say, I didn't expect you to still talk about her like that. She always did have that effect on you." I knew it. You always had a thing for her."
Aria blinked, caught mid - thought. "What? No, I — wait, what are you talking about?"
Aria blinked again, startled by the sudden question. "Uh, well, I mean… is she? She's breathtaking, I guess. When we were kids, she was so cute. I was always happy when she visited."
Her cheeks heated. She looked over at Selene. "Sorry, I should've said something… uh, mmm."
Selene snorted. "Please. You used to get all weird whenever her name came up. Like full - on blush mode, awkward stammering, the whole deal. It was adorable."
Aria's face flushed. "Okay, that's… dramatic."
"Is it?" Selene leaned in, resting her chin on her hand. "You basically worshipped the ground she walked on. I'm pretty sure if she said 'jump,' you would've asked, 'How high and should I bring snacks?'"
"You were obsessed," Selene teased. "It was cute. You'd just stare at her like she was made of stardust or something."
Aria's face flushed. "She was adorable! I mean… she is. And yeah, when we were young, every time she came over, I got so excited. She had that energy, you know? Like the kind you just wanna be around."
Her voice got softer, more thoughtful. "She was always kind to me. Even when other kids thought I was weird, Elara never did. She made me feel seen."
Selene tilted her head, studying her. "Do you guys still talk?"
"Sometimes," Aria said, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Not as much as we used to. She kind of disappeared off the grid when everything with her career exploded. But we kept in touch here and there. She still messages me sometimes."
Selene raised a brow. "Even after she ghosted the whole planet?"
Aria shrugged, playing with the edge of her sleeve. "Yeah. I mean, I don't blame her for going quiet. Fame can be a lot. She never liked being watched all the time."
A beat.
"Sorry," Aria added, realizing she'd probably said too much. "Didn't mean to ramble."
Selene grinned. "Don't apologize. I think it's sweet. You still get flustered when you talk about her. That hasn't changed."
Aria groaned, dragging a hand over her face. "Ugh, Selene…" "Oh my God, stop."
Selene just grinned wider. "Come on, just admit it. Little Aria had a massive, starry - eyed crush on the girl next door."
"She wasn't just the girl next door," Aria muttered, too quietly.
Selene caught it anyway. "Aha! Knew it."
Aria huffed. "Fine. Maybe I liked her. Maybe I thought she was pretty. When we were little, she was always so… cool. Confident. I don't know — she just made everything feel exciting."
"She made you feel things," Selene teased, wiggling her eyebrows.
Aria swatted her with a pillow. "Shut up."
Selene laughed, dodging it. "Hey, I'm just saying — it's kind of cute that the global icon used to make you forget how to talk."
Aria glared, but her ears were already turning pink. "You're the worst."
"And you're still blushing," Selene sing-songed, smug as hell.
Her cheeks heated. She looked over at Selene. "Sorry, I should've said something… uh, mmm."
Selene's smile grew, clearly loving how flustered Aria was. "Aww, you're blushing. Should I be jealous?"
Aria snorted, trying to play it cool. "Stop it. I'm not shy."
Selene leaned closer, eyes sparkling. "Oh, I know you better than that."
Aria crossed her arms and pouted, caught between annoyed and adorable — making her all the more irresistible.
Selene's voice softened. "You good?"
Aria nodded, swallowing the flutter in her chest. "Yeah. Thanks."
Selene brushed a stray hair behind Aria's ear. "You're something else."
They reached the edge of town just as the sun dipped behind the crooked skyline, casting everything in gold and violet. Light caught on broken windows, shattered traffic lights blinking without rhythm. A "Children at Play" sign lay bent against the sidewalk, a deep red stain faded across it like a memory someone tried to scrub out.
"I've been thinking," Aria said suddenly, walking a little faster to match Selene's pace. "About what you said before. About… me dying. Sacrificing myself."
Selene's gaze flicked over but said nothing.
"I don't get it," Aria continued. "I'm not brave. I'm not selfless. Hell, I cry during ASPCA commercials."
Selene stopped walking. Slowly turned to face her.
"You are brave," she said evenly.
"You don't even know me."
Selene's expression didn't change, but something in her eyes did. Like something behind them shifted closer to the surface.
"I do."
Aria's throat tightened.
The words weren't dramatic. Weren't even loud. But they felt like they'd been waiting a long time to be said. The kind of truth that didn't demand belief — it just existed.
"Then why don't I know you?" Aria asked, softer now. "Why don't I remember anything?"
Selene stepped forward, then paused like she thought better of it.
"Because you haven't remembered me yet."
The way she said it broke something small in Aria's chest. A crack, thin and clean.
"…Do I want to?" she whispered.
Selene took a breath. Not shaky. Just real.
"I hope so," she said.
And for the first time, Aria saw it — fear. Not from roamers. Not from whatever was hiding behind the sky. But fear of something deeply personal. Something that could actually hurt her.
They walked again. The silence between them changed shape — no longer distance, but the edge of something neither of them knew how to name yet.
The city began to close around them, folding in like it was watching. Shadows clung to the corners of buildings. Graffiti looked fresher than it should. Somewhere in the distance, something heavy fell with a metal clang.
They found shelter on the roof of an old insurance office, the glass doors blown out and the stairs dusted with ash and bird droppings. Aria used a broken piece of pipe to wedge the rooftop hatch shut. The rooftop itself was scattered with rusted furniture and two lawn chairs that somehow hadn't flown away.
Vines crawled up the red brick like they'd been chasing warmth and gave up halfway.
Selene sat with her back to the far wall, blade across her lap, eyes on the horizon.
Aria spread a stolen blanket over the concrete and dropped onto it, groaning.
"God, my back," she muttered. "Zero needs to start carrying me instead of my stuff."
Selene let out a small laugh. "You really trust that thing now."
"Why wouldn't I?" Aria said, stretching her arms overhead. "Zero's been perfect. No sass. No judgment. No weird trauma dumps."
"You're the one who named it like a moody AI in a dystopian movie."
"I like the name. Feels clean."
"Fitting," Selene said.
Aria looked over. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Selene smiled faintly. "You're always chasing the point of origin."
"Okay, wow. That was way deeper than I was going for."
Selene's voice dropped, almost teasing. "Sorry. I forgot who I was talking to. The seafood thief who flirts with her own void."
Aria grinned. "I don't flirt with Zero. We just have a connection."
"You're not even denying the relationship."
"Look," Aria said, eyes narrowing playfully, "Zero's always there for me, expands when I need it, never judges me for stashing chocolate bars and tampons and entire ice cream coolers. That's more than I can say for most people."
"I'd say that sounds like love."
"It might be."
Selene tilted her head, eyes soft. "I'm glad you have it."
They fell into silence again. The wind picked up over the rooftop, sharp and insistent. Somewhere far off, something howled. Not a dog. Not an animal. Just sound trying to claw its way through the wrong shape.
Aria lay back and stared at the sky. The stars looked restless. Like they were flickering messages in Morse code she wasn't fluent in.
"Feels like I'm walking through someone else's memories," she said. "Like I'm standing where she stood. Saying what she might've said. But I don't know who she was."
Selene didn't answer right away.
"She loved too much," she said eventually. "She gave everything. Even when it broke her. Especially when it did."
Aria swallowed.
"And you?" she asked. "What did you give?"
Selene's jaw twitched. Her fingers brushed her blade's hilt like it grounded her.
"Everything I had."
Neither of them spoke again.
The rooftop settled under them. The world, for a moment, held still.
Eventually, Aria fell asleep.
Her dreams were stitched together from glass and ash and moonlight. Selene's hand in hers. A hallway of mirrors. The scent of earth from a garden grown in shadow.
And behind all of it — a face in a window.
Not outside.
Inside.
Watching her.
She woke with a jolt.
The stars had rearranged.
One blinked red.
It didn't stop.
She stared back.
And it smiled.