The battleship was never truly quiet.
Even when the engines hummed low and the corridors emptied after duty hours, there was always noise—the kind that didn't echo, but lingered.
Whispers.
> "Commander Ryssa… did you hear?"
"They say she was seen exiting Kael's quarters late last night—hair messy, jacket wet."
"Maybe that's why he's suddenly so calm these days. You think they're—?"
The words clung to the walls like damp mold. And even though Kael had walked through worse, this… was exhausting.
He leaned against the wall of the armory locker, head tilted back, eyes closed. The cold steel felt better than the heat that rumor had started to ignite inside him.
He hadn't even touched Ryssa last night. Not really. She had clung to him like a girl slipping under pressure, like someone finally letting go of strength she wore like armor. And he let her.
He didn't even sleep.
He watched her until dawn, before gently pulling a blanket over her soaked clothes.
---
Ziya & Tyren
Elsewhere, Ziya was pacing like a soldier waiting for her name to be called. She had tried once already to talk to Tyren.
She had stepped toward him in the mess hall, voice trembling.
> "Tyren, can I talk to y—"
But he didn't hear her. Or maybe, again, he chose not to.
Now she stood in her bunk, sitting between Rynn and Misha who looked at her like she was a fragile vase about to tip over.
> "You've got to be louder," Misha nudged. "He's dense."
> "He's not dense," Ziya muttered, face buried in her arms. "He's angry. Still stuck in his own storm."
Rynn just placed a gentle hand on her back.
> "Then be his calm."
---
Kael's Quarters, Before the Storm
Ryssa had walked toward his door with confidence, but every step weakened her resolve.
She had thrown on something simple, but her hands kept adjusting her collar, brushing invisible dust off her sleeves.
"Just say it," she whispered to herself.
She was done pretending.
She reached his door—hesitated—and then the ship's automatic sensor detected her presence. The door hissed open.
She stepped forward.
But her heel caught the inner threshold. Her elbow smacked the desk. A metal bottle of water tipped, splashing directly on her chest.
She gasped. The cold seeped into her skin. Then came the sting.
Not from the water. From her own frustration.
> "I'm a commander," she mumbled, clutching the fabric over her chest. "Why do I feel like a cadet again?"
Her knees gave out beneath her, and she sank to the floor, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around herself.
The weight of everything—Kael's silence, the pressure from her higher-ups, the whispers—crushed her.
She didn't notice the door open again.
---
Kael Enters
Kael stepped in, setting down a report pad. Then paused.
> "Ryssa?"
His voice was low. Rough.
She turned to him—hair plastered to her face, wet jacket sticking to her, and eyes glassy with unshed tears.
> "I didn't mean to. I tripped… and—"
He said nothing. His eyes didn't show judgment. Only a blank, heavy silence.
She stood up slowly—then, in a sudden release, she stepped forward and grabbed him by his shirt.
> "Just let me stay here," she whispered. "For a second. Just a second, Kael."
She buried her face in his chest. Her body was trembling.
Kael didn't hug her. But he didn't push her away either.
> "You're soaked."
> "So are you," she said, chuckling through the tears.
He guided her to the edge of his bunk. Sat her down.
> "You didn't have to pretend," he said softly.
> "Neither did you."
She was quiet for a long time, head on his shoulder. Then she said it, the words trembling:
> "I know I flirt and play tough… but with you, I don't want to pretend."
Kael didn't respond right away.
But he looked at her, really looked at her—and pulled a blanket over her shoulders. She leaned against him and fell asleep like that.
---
Outside, the Ship Was Still Rumbling
Ziya passed the hallway later that night, glanced at Kael's door, and paused.
She saw the light was on.
Inside, Kael sat upright. Eyes fixed on the bulkhead.
His shirt was damp. His heart? Drenched.
No
t from rain.
From the flood of emotions he wasn't ready to admit even existed.
And as she moved on, her chest tightened—for reasons she didn't yet understand.