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Everyone knows Blaze.

You can't spend five minutes on campus without hearing his name. In the cafeteria, in study halls, even whispered in the library where people pretend to be quiet. He's the kind of person everyone seems drawn to. Not because he's loud, well, he is. But he just has that kind of gravity.

Teachers like him. Students adore him. People always say Blaze has the kind of warmth that makes winter feel like spring.

Maybe they're right. Because when Blaze walks into a room, things really do shift. Laughter gets a little louder, time feels a little quicker, even the dullest day seems to find a pulse again.

Oh and... My name's Icy. People say it fits me. Quiet, cold, never really joining in. They think I don't care about anything. Maybe they're right. Or maybe I just don't see the point of keeping up with everyone else's noise. I've learned to stay still while everyone else tries to shine too hard.

You know,

I don't mean to start noticing him. It just happens, like, who doesn't notice warmth in the cold? The way sunlight slips through blinds. He burns bright, and I happen watch. Not out of admiration, but curiosity. He's so loud, so sure, so alive. How does someone live like that?

One afternoon, Blaze catches me watching him. I think he'll flash that signature grin and walk off, like he always does to everyone who sank into silence. But now, he doesn't. He holds my gaze, steady, unhurried, like he finds something there that catches his interest.

Then he laughs, quiet but full of that easy confidence. "You always look at me like you know something I don't."

I don't reply. Maybe because he's right. Or maybe because I don't trust my voice not to shake.

He smiles again, softer this time. "Haha I'm joking, man." "But hey, Icy, right? Wanna grab coffee? I could use a break from being everyone's favorite for five minutes."

And that's how it starts... The slow collision of fire and ice, warmth and silence. Because sometimes, when the crowd stops cheering, even an idol just wants someone who won't melt in his heat.

And I know for sure, I won't melt. . . . . .