Heracles was used to things being loud. He was constantly surrounded by loud friends, loud cats mewing in need of attention, and loud voices raised over each other in loud arguments between loud people. Over time, he had grown used to it. That did not mean that he liked it, or even that he could tolerate it. His life was an unending symphony of noises he wished he could mute; all moving at a pace he simply could not keep up with. Eventually, he grew convinced he was the only quiet person he knew.
But one day, when Heracles was walking through a loud hallway full of loud people moving at the speed of light, he looked to the side and saw a singular quiet, still thing. It was as if time had stopped in the place he stood.
The first thing he noticed was the look of perpetual fear he carried like a neon sign, even if he was just as obviously trying to hide it. He was pressed against the wall as if he wanted to blend into it, his eyes dark and his face pinched. He was a wallflower, likely an outcast that few people noticed- yet Heracles could not walk past him. Though he wasn't sure why, he pushed his way through the loud, rushing crowd of people and made his way to the quiet one. His spot against the wall was like the eye of a storm; his silence like a magnet.
"Hello." Heracles lifted a hand in a slow, tired excuse for a wave. "Are you lost?" He assumed the boy was a freshman, maybe a transfer student. He knew only one thing for sure- that he was quiet.
The boy looked up, but the moment their eyes met his gaze shot back to the floor. He did not say a word, but it was not that he looked as if he did not understand. Rather, he looked an odd cross between terrified and ashamed. His dark hair fell into his eyes, shrouding the flush on his face and the look of apprehension in his eyes.
Heracles tilted his head, unsure whether to be intrigued, confused or simply concerned. "Are you alright?"
The boy looked up again, his mouth drawn into a thin line. His lips parted for a brief moment, but he quickly closed them and shook his head rather violently. Heracles watched in silent bewilderment as he reached into his pocket, withdrew a pen and rumbled scrap of paper, and scribbled something down. The moment he finished, he shoved the note into Heracles's hand and took a small step backwards.
Heracles unfolded the paper and read the jumbled yet neat words: I am lost. For a long moment, he only stared at the letters as though he didn't know what they meant. What an odd situation. Well, at least they had a starting point. "What classroom are you looking for?"
They held eye contact for only seconds before the boy broke it again. Then he pointed upward, waited a beat, brought his index finger and his thumb together to form a circle, and finally held up four fingers. While it was downright strange, it did not take Heracles long to get the message. "One hundred and four?" Another pause. Heracles only blinked. After what felt like an ice age in this boy's silence, he nodded. Heracles was already unable to walk away, and he quickly found that he was not able to look away, either. "Let me walk you there."
The boy did nothing, of course said nothing. But when Heracles walked forward, he followed with careful, reserved steps. Heracles could not stop his mind from spinning. He was not used to quiet, and even less used to silence. He was not even sure if it was refreshing or deafening. He could not find a clue on the boy's face, either. There was nothing about this that was not odd, but when they reached the classroom, Heracles realized for the third time that he could not walk away.
"Hey." Without thinking about it, Heracles reached forward and touched his shoulder. He was not entirely sure what he was expecting, but he was certain the reaction he got was not it. The boy flinched as if he had been punched, inhaled sharply and jumped backwards. It was the most sound he had made yet, and Heracles could only feel guilt. "Sorry, I-" He broke off and dropped his raised hands. When the flash of shock faded, he glanced down to see the boy was still staring at him, silent and unreadable as ever. Heracles figured there was no way he could possibly make this more uncomfortable, so he said, "You are very quiet. Will you at least tell me your name?"
There was that pained hesitance again. Heracles knew he was likely pushing too much, sticking around too long for no good reason, but he couldn't walk away. So he stood in the unfamiliar silence, waiting for something, anything. A spark went off in his chest when the boy reached into his pocket again, a fire shooting across his hand when he felt another scrap of paper being forced into it. For some strange reason, he felt almost accomplished.
By the time he looked up, the boy was gone and the hallway was loud again. Heracles ignored the intrusive noise and carefully unfolded the note. This time, the letters trembled.
My name is Kiku. I apologize for being quiet. I'm mute.
.
Things did not get any quieter. All day Heracles was bombarded by conversations he did not wish to have, information he found irrelevant and expectations he could not meet. All day he at least tried to ignore them. In the end, he failed. By the time his final period rolled around, the only one he had free, Heracles was devoid of energy. This was no different than any other day. In some aggravating, exhausting way, he was used to this kind of fatigue.
At least today was not quite as monotonous. The familiarity was broken up by the scraps of paper that seemed to scream from his pocket above all other noise, the words echoing in his head in made up voices. He played those same five minutes over and over in his head, wondering what he could have done differently, wondering why he cared at all. How fixated he was on a strange couple of minutes with a strange boy was probably ridiculous, yet he could not eradicate the incident from his mind. In a way, it was a welcome distraction. Kiku's silence was impressively loud in his head, especially in such a loud, senseless place. But of course, another loud, senseless voice had to shatter it all.
"Who was that kid you were with this morning, Jerkules?"
Heracles sucked in his cheeks. This kind of greeting was what passed for affection at this stage, apparently. It did not matter that it was already midafternoon- it was still too early for this. "Hello, Sadiq." He looked to the side to see messy hair, piercing eyes and an obnoxious grin sneering down at him. If anything was louder than Sadiq's voice, it was his presence. Both were tiring, and honesty, Heracles sometimes wondered what he ever found so attractive about them. He looked away, resigned to simply ignoring all of it. Words were too much. He had nothing to say.
Sadiq always had something to say. "Who was he? I've never seen the kid before, but he seemed weird." He slapped Heracles on the back with an open palm for no apparent reason and sat down with a dramatic sigh. Heracles winced. "Makes sense that you would know him then, right?" He laughed as if that had actually been funny. It was an unwelcome, booming sound.
Heracles lowered his eyes to the table. He was fairly certain getting angry with that would be unreasonable, but that did nothing to stop the emotion from being felt. Maybe Kiku was a bit odd, but really, all of them were. "I do not know him. He was lost." And who would not help someone who was lost? Fear spoke far louder than words. "I showed him to his class."
"Always have to be the Good Samaritan, don't you, Heracles?" Sadiq scoffed before turning his attention to carving something in the table with his nail. The scraping was insufferable.
It was the type of question that did not require an answer. Heracles stayed silent, slid his hand into his pocket and wove the slips of paper between his fingers for what was probably the fifth time. He was usually grateful to have this last period free, because it gave him time to think. It really was a shame that it had to be intruded upon, effectively shattering every cohesive thought in his mind. But it was a petty complaint, he supposed. So for the remainder of the hour, he listened to Sadiq ramble on about something, always something. Maybe he spoke about girls, or boys, or classes, or maybe he said something that could very well be life changing. Heracles did not even know. Silence still filled his head.
The harsh ring of the final bell served as a relief. Heracles stood before the sound even stopped, entirely too eager to get away from both the building and Sadiq, but he was stopped by a sharp tug on his sleeve. He turned around, reluctant though he wished he wasn't. As expected, when Sadiq kissed him it was too forceful and sloppy and meaningless. After two years of him, Heracles no longer felt anything. He could not even pinpoint when that had happened. After a rushed goodbye, he left. He tried to ignore how much better he felt when he did.
The walk home was usually empty, silent. Today only the latter was true, because the moment he stepped outside, Heracles saw him again. Kiku was walking out the same door, mere feet away, though Heracles had never seen him go this way before. Come to think of it, Heracles had not seen him once, period, despite it being the middle of the school year in a small town. It was as if this kid had fallen from the sky.
Yes, he had come from nowhere, and that was only the first interesting thing about him. Heracles could have simply kept going, but he didn't. "Hello," he said, just loud enough to be heard. Kiku stopped walking, and for a moment confusion overrode the perpetual nervousness. Heracles quickly realized he had not thought this far ahead. At a loss for words like always, he said the very first thing that came to mind. "You did not have to apologize."
Maybe that sounded a bit strange out of context. That was always Heracles's problem- writing out an entire speech in his head, only to vocalize some nonsensical, fragmented part of it. As a result, unsaid questions were apparent in Kiku's expression. Heracles wondered how frustrating it must be to not be able to vocalize them. In an attempt to make that unnecessary, he took a step closer and tried to explain himself. "Your note."
Kiku looked up at Heracles and blinked. Perhaps it was not the statement that was confusing him, but the fact that Heracles was talking to him at all. After all, they had met only briefly. Though he felt a bit silly, he felt a need to press on. He felt even sillier when he realized he had left out a rather important detail. "Oh, my name is Heracles. You are Kiku, right?" He hoped he was pronouncing it right. He had nothing to go off of, after all. "Are you new?"
This time, Kiku did not nod, but shrugged. Heracles was not entirely sure what to make of that. He was either new or not new, what other option was there? What was the grey area? Heracles realized his thoughts were running away again and quickly reeled them in. It would be easier to just assume Kiku was new. It was not worth it to ask more questions he could not answer, to force him to write something down. Right before he fell victim to his own racing mind yet again, Heracles became entirely too aware of the silence. Carrying an entire conversation, especially when the other person could not physically answer him, was hardly something he was used to. "Where do you live?" he asked finally, though he regretted it almost immediately. That sounded a bit intrusive.
Thankfully, Kiku seemed unfazed. He lifted a hand and pointed down a street that was, disappointingly, the exact opposite direction that Heracles needed to go. He supposed he had nothing else to do even less to lose, so he said, "Can I walk with you?"
Sometimes, words were not necessary. The look in Kiku's eyes was enough, and it held one perfectly clear message: why? This time, it was Heracles who shrugged. There was a message in that, as well: why not? Kiku held eye contact longer than he ever had, arched an eyebrow, and finally shrugged right back. Heracles took that as a yes. He also took it as a small, nonsensical victory.
About halfway down the road, Heracles realized that an uncomfortable silence between two very quiet people was still uncomfortable. When he walked with Sadiq, something he generally tried to avoid, Heracles had no need to fill the silence because it was already taken care of. This time, it was not. He said the first thing that came to mind, which was quickly becoming a habit. "Where are you from?"
Kiku just looked at him, eyebrows drawn together. Heracles felt the tips of his ears burn when he realized his mistake- failing to stick to yes or no questions. Well, that was rather limiting. He began to wonder if anyone knew anything about this mysterious, strange, if not slightly cute boy. After all, Kiku could only carry around so much paper… Heracles quickly realized he was carrying a bag full of almost nothing but paper. Mid-stride, he swung said bag from his shoulder to his chest, unzipped it, and took great care not to spill everything everywhere while Kiku watched. One series of awkward, fumbling movements later, he was holding a pen and his English notebook. It had a kitten on it. Hopefully Kiku would not mind.
We can communicate this way, Heracles wrote on the first free page. He handed it to Kiku without really looking at him, hoping to seem nonchalant.
Kiku took the notebook from him, seemingly puzzled but no longer nervous. Heracles forced himself to look ahead. Though he still felt uncomfortable, and in all honestly, a bit lost, he was enjoying the opportunity to have some quiet time. Between Sadiq filling his thoughts in the worst way possible, voices of varying intensity attacking him every second of everyday, and the threat of college hanging over his head like it had been all year, silence was greatly appreciated. Loudness was suffocating, and the quiet was the air. That air was stolen when he felt the notebook being pressed into his hand.
Okay. Kiku wrote in neat, condensed handwriting. On the next line, it said: To answer your question, I am from Japan.
Heracles raised an eyebrow. He knew no other immigrants beside himself, his childhood friend from Cyprus, and Sadiq, who was from Turkey. Maybe he and Kiku had more in common than he thought. Really? That is interesting. I am from Greece, he wrote.
Kiku took the notebook with less reluctance. His eyes flashed interestingly at the words on the page, and Heracles could not help but watch as he penned a quick, inhumanly neat response before passing it back. Greece is a lovely country. Do you like philosophy?
Yes, Heracles wrote quickly, a small smile playing on his lips. He could not help his enthusiasm. Whenever he tried to start a conversation about his favorite philosophers, the person he was talking to usually either had no idea what he was talking about or simply seemed uninterested, if not flat-out annoyed. This was especially true with Sadiq. His hand moved across the paper with ease. I especially like Aristotle. He could not even remember the amount of times he had read On The Soul or Poetics.
As Kiku read his response, Heracles could have sworn he saw him smile. No matter how faint, brief or insignificant it was, it felt like yet another victory. Kiku certainly did not seem happy that morning. This was a welcome change. He seemed to breathe easier, his handwriting looking less controlled. Aristotle was a great man. On the line under it, it said only word. Mythology?
Heracles decided he liked Kiku. In the span of five minutes, he had shown interest in two things Heracles held rather close to his heart. Perhaps it was silly and perhaps it reduced him to a stereotype, but he could not help it. Both subjects reminded him of his mother, after all. Of course. A loud gust of wind lifted the page as he wrote. Heracles held it down as he continued unthinkingly. My mother used to read me the stories. He regretted the entire sentence the moment he finished the last letter. It sounded much too personal for what this was. But he was writing in pen and it felt strange to cross it out, so he left it. He felt an embarrassed flush creep across his neck as he handed it back to Kiku. Maybe this was not that much less difficult than speaking.
His doubt was erased when Kiku responded easily. That sounds nice. My brother was always the one to read to me. It did not take long for the implication to set in. Though Heracles felt his stomach sink, he could not help but look at the bright side- at least they had something else in common. He tapped the pen against the page, searching for a response he would not regret, but quickly realized he would not have the time. Kiku had stopped walking. They had reached his house.
This time, Heracles's stomach plummeted directly to his feet. He shook off the feeling and scribbled one last message. It was nice talking to you. He held the book out in front of him as if to present it, tilted his head and smiled slightly.
Kiku seemed to study his expression. Instead of walking away, he reached out slowly, carefully, and took the notebook again. Heracles watched him write in silent anticipation, curiosity rising in him. This time, it was Kiku who simply showed him the page.
You do realize you can respond to me verbally, right?
Heracles suddenly remembered how to speak. "Oh." Writing back had only felt natural, he did not want Kiku to feel strange, but he had probably made him feel strange anyway and oh god he needed to say something. He looked away, embarrassed. "Oh. I just thought…" He trailed off. Being physically able to speak did not make this any easier. Then he just felt exhausted again, just like always, because he had made things uncomfortable, just like always. Unsure what else to do, he took the notebook back and turned on his heel. "Sorry."
He stopped when he felt a small tug on his book bag. He turned around, still fighting back embarrassment only to have to vanish when he saw Kiku was waving. Of course… he was saying goodbye. "Oh," Heracles said again. "Goodbye." Kiku's eyes were emotionless, unreadable, and… a rather deep shade of brown. Heracles held eye contact for a moment longer before starting off towards his own house.
Halfway down the sidewalk, Heracles heard his phone go off and winced at the obnoxious tone. When he managed to find the stupid thing, he noticed he had a message.
Sadiq: Hey Jerkules, what's up with you today?
Heracles did not bother with a response. Instead he turned the phone on silent, opened the notebook's cover and reread everything on the page. By the time he got home, he nearly had it memorized.
To be continued...