We Never Said Goodbye
Mark Rivers had a way of slipping into rooms without turning heads. He didn't wear loud colors or carry himself like someone begging to be seen. He wasn't invisible—but he was quiet, like a slow song in a loud room. The kind of guy you noticed only if you stayed long enough to listen.
At twenty, Mark had already learned the art of living on the edges. His world wasn't big—it was precise. Familiar coffee shops, used bookstores, and a few trusted people. He wasn't antisocial. He just didn't see the point in talking to fill space.
"You ever gonna say something when we walk into a room? Or you just gonna keep letting people think you're mysterious?" Liam asked, nudging Mark's shoulder as they entered their favorite café on a rainy Friday afternoon.
Mark smirked faintly, brushing raindrops from his hoodie. "Mystery makes me interesting."
Liam laughed, shaking out his damp jacket. "Bro, you're not Batman. You're just quiet. There's a difference."
They ordered their usual—black coffee for Mark, caramel latte for Liam—and slid into the booth near the window. Rain pressed against the glass in soft, rhythmic taps, and the warm scent of roasted beans filled the air.
Liam leaned back, sipping from his cup. "Alright, quiet guy. Spill. What's going on in that poetic head of yours today?"
Mark raised a brow. "Poetic? That's new."
"You literally said last week that watching the rain feels like the sky is writing letters to the earth."
Mark gave a lazy smile. "Okay, fine. But that was a one-time thing."
Liam chuckled. "No, it wasn't. You said it last month too. And the month before. Face it—you're one bad breakup away from becoming a songwriter."
"Says the guy who cried during the trailer of a romantic drama."
"Bro, that dog died! That was emotional!"
They both laughed, steam from their drinks curling between them.
"Anyway," Liam said, adjusting his cap. "You seeing anyone lately? Or are we still sticking to fictional crushes and daydreaming in bookstores?"
Mark rolled his eyes. "I'm not into dating just for the sake of it. People feel like static noise sometimes. I'd rather wait for someone whose silence feels like music."
Liam blinked. "Wow. That... was deep."
"You asked."
"I did. I just wasn't ready to feel like I'm wasting my life."
Mark chuckled again, shaking his head.
"Okay, but real talk," Liam said, leaning in. "You ever think you're too... distant? Like, you don't let anyone in. Even your best friend only gets snippets."
Mark stirred his coffee. "It's not about hiding. It's about not being loud just to be heard. I'd rather be known in quiet ways."
Liam nodded slowly. "And here I am, yelling my existence into every room I enter."
"Balance, my dude."
Their conversation lingered on—topics dancing between university pressures, music they were obsessing over, and the existential dread of turning into their parents.
As the rain outside softened into a mist, they parted ways with casual jabs and a fist bump.
Back home, Mark dropped his bag and collapsed into his chair. The soft hum of his desk lamp filled the silence of his room. He glanced at his phone, half expecting nothing, but it lit up just as he turned away.
Aria 🧃: "Mark. I swear if you're ghosting me again, I'll steal your books and annotate them in pink glitter pen."
Mark: "Imagine thinking I'd ghost you. I'm just mentally buffering. It's a long process."
Aria 🧃: "Buffering or brooding?"
Mark: "Same thing, different mood music."
Aria 🧃: "You need a podcast where you just sigh into the mic for an hour."
Mark: "You'd be my only subscriber."
Aria 🧃: "Exactly. Quality content for emotionally constipated intellectuals."
Mark: "Put that on a mug. I'd sip from it daily."
Aria 🧃: "Already made it. Limited edition. Only for friends who text back within 24 hours."
Mark: "Oof. That's targeted."
Aria 🧃: "It is. Just for you."
Mark: "Feeling special now. Should I be worried?"
Aria 🧃: "Nah. You're still my favorite overthinker."
Mark: "High praise coming from someone who made a playlist called 'Crying in Vintage'."
Aria 🧃: "Don't judge the title. It has emotional depth."
Mark: "It also had a track list of sad French songs and one Taylor Swift remix."
Aria 🧃: "Exactly. Balanced chaos."
Mark: "I still have that song stuck in my head, by the way."
Aria 🧃: "You're welcome. Emotional torment is part of the package."
Mark: "You should come with a warning label."
Aria 🧃: "Too late. I'm the warning."
Mark: "Touché."
Aria 🧃: "Anyway, how was your day, moody poet?"
Mark: "Watched a girl cry on the bus. Wondered what her story was. Got coffee with Liam. Realized I talk too much in my head and not enough out loud."
Aria 🧃: "Classic Mark. Observing the world like it's a movie and you're the narrator."
Mark: "If life had a soundtrack, it'd be a slow piano piece every time I entered a room."
Aria 🧃: "You really are the main character, huh?"
Mark: "I'm just in the background of everyone else's story."
Aria 🧃: "Nah. You're that one character who only says one line per scene but steals the whole damn thing."
Mark: "I'll take that. As long as I get a cool trench coat."
Aria 🧃: "And a cat. Definitely a cat."
Mark: "You know me too well."
Aria 🧃: "I do. And yet you still surprise me."
Mark stared at her last message a little longer than he meant to. Not because it meant something more. But because it meant something honest.
And sometimes, honesty was more powerful than anything else.