Title: More Than Words
Rating: T
Summary: Atobe took interest in Kabaji when he first met him. Not physically, but mentally. Little did he know that his curiosity would be the beginning of an entirely unique experience. [Kabaji and Atobe's childhood fanfiction]
Note: This is basically the headcanon I put together in a single fanfiction. I'm really, really interested about the relationship between the two, and there's just no enough backstory! The fanfiction will be written in different POVs and the whispers in Kabaji's head will be written in italic.

~Atobe Keigo~

My first impression of him wasn't exactly an amazing one. For someone so young, he looked really old, with tanned skin, distinct cheekbones and clear jawlines. His crinkly eyes were narrow with pitch black orbs in them; blankly staring at his surroundings. His lips were thick, unmoving. His nose was pointy, shaped like Mirren. He had short, bush-like hair, flatly cut at the top. He was hunching, as if he was carrying an invisible weight on his back.

He turned his gaze at me.

I did not break the eye contact.

"Keigo, it's rude to stare," My mother called out and shot the boy an apologetic look. She then placed both of her slender fingers on my shoulder and turned my body to face him. He was still looking at me with his expressionless eyes.

I couldn't read what he was thinking. It was odd. For me, at least. I knew I had a knack for reading people's body language and facial expression, but that boy made me doubt my skill.

"This is Kabaji, Munehiro Kabaji," She started. "I hope you will get along with him."

I looked to the side to observe my mother's face. Straightaway, I knew that she said it only for formality and hadn't actually meant it. That alone made me jump to a conclusion that he although he came from a fairly wealthy family, my mother simply didn't want me to associate further with him. Why, you may ask. It would only because this Kabaji person was different than everyone else; I could easily tell just by looking at him, also the fact that I could not seem to read him.

But it would be interesting to slowly decipher his thought. It would only be a matter of time until I understand him inside out. Although I used to think that it was amusing to be able to know what others are thinking, it would be satisfying if I succeed in interpreting his expression.

So, I extended my right hand.

~Kabaji Munehiro~

I gazed around the spacious living room, carefully counting each step I took inside the grand mansion. When I felt a pair of eyes on me, I slowly turned my head to the side.

Fair skin, deep sapphire eyes with epicanthal folds and a small beauty mark just underneath the right one. He had perfectly proportioned eyebrows, small nose, thin glossy lips and elegantly cut dark grey hair. He was the epitome of perfection. I found myself staring at him, as if scanning him from the tip of his shoes to the edge of his nicely curled hair.

Epitome of perfection? Don't be ridiculous. Just wait until he bares those nasty fangs at you, just like all pampered bourgeois juniors you have known do.

I remembered him clearly. He was in the magazine I saw. The heir of Plutocracy, it said. Atobe Keigo.

Your parents just never had enough of introducing you to yet another potential friend.

I tilted my head to the side when his mother said, "Keigo, it's rude to stare." Atobe looked at her contemplatively before his sharp eyes focused on me once more. I said nothing, nor did I attempt to break the eye contact.

Then, he extended his right arm and said. "Nice to meet you."

Don't give him a chance, Munehiro. He's going to hurt you again eventually. Do you remember any fair treatment from your previous 'friends'? No? Well it's because you've never gotten any. You convince yourself you do but—

I quickly closed my mind to the subconscious which was slowly overtaking my brain. Then, I nodded slightly in response and greeted his arm with my own. "Nice… to meet you too."

~Atobe Keigo~

I surveyed him once more as I felt his large hand covering mine. His voice was ridiculously deep for someone who was supposed to be around my age, even when I compare it to the older male teenagers I have encountered. His hand was warm and surprisingly smooth, just like a high-quality well-tempered milk chocolate.

"How old are you, Kabaji?" I asked.

It took him awhile to once again part his closed lips. His dark eyes were still locked on mine, with lack of expression which is slowly getting on my nerves. How can someone hide their façade so well that even I, the great Atobe Keigo, could not read through it?

"Six," was all that came out of his mouth.

"What, you're younger than me?" I jerked my head back slightly in disbelief. I have heard of boys whose voice started to break at younger age, but at six?

"Kabaji-kun, I have to leave and accompany your parents. Keigo, play nice with him, okay, sweetie?"

I hated it when she calls me sweetie. Instead of losing my composure, I just nodded bitterly and said nothing as a response. She left soon enough, leaving me alone with the boy who I learnt was younger than me.

Even when she left, Kabaji still didn't say anything.

"Hey Kabaji, do you want to watch some movies?" I offered. "We have a home theatre on the second floor, and I'm sure you'll find something to your liking."

Kabaji just nodded, which I found extremely aggravating. Most kids who I have met would be agape in awe when I mention about my family's very own home theatre. Then their eyes would shine with excitement before skipping along with me to the second floor where they could find all sort of DVDs, even the ones that were not supposed to be released just yet.

"You don't look British," I wondered out loud. My next sentence would usually be "Is your dad from another country or something?" but this time, I didn't continue, as I wanted to make him speak and explain.

But, it had no effect on him. He grunted as a response. It wasn't a hostile grunt, but more like a noise made to confirm something.

"Do you speak English?" I asked in a half-mocking tone. I knew I shouldn't be doing that, as he might take that as an insult and ended up closing himself. However, it was a chance to observe the slightest fluctuation in his facial expression.

His eyes stayed empty as he shortly said, "Yes."

"Talk to me," I pressured him. However, instead of opening his mouth, he casts his gaze downwards to the carpet-covered stairs, as if subtlety declining my request, which to be frank, was not a request. "Why won't you talk to me? Am I not worth your time?"

"N-no," He stammered, by far the fastest he had ever taken to respond to me. "I… words… words always… fail me." He whispered meekly.

"Well, you should still talk anyway!" I cut him sharply. "No one will like you if you don't try to blend in." I tilted my face upwards and crossed my arms to show my superiority.

"…Okay…" Was all he said.

~Kabaji Munehiro~

He's staring at you. He obviously doesn't like you. Look at those slanted blue eyes gauging whether or not you worth his time.

"How old are you, Kabaji?" He inquired. His voice was smooth, and although he had only said a few words, his confidence and pride were delivered along with each syllable that came out of his mouth.

What is this? You're jealous of his charisma? Hah! Don't be deceived, Munehiro! It's all an act. An act!

"Six," I managed to make an answer slip out of my lips.

"What, you're younger than me?" He seemed astonished. He pulled his head backwards and every lock of his dark hair gracefully swayed along with the motion. He was captivating. Everything about him seemed to be perfect.

He's everything that you will never be, Munehiro.

I gritted my teeth, although it was so slight that it Atobe hardly squint his eyes.

You're trying to shut me out?

"Hey Kabaji, do you want to watch some movies? We have a home theatre on the second floor, and I'm sure you'll find something to your liking."

You cannot shut me out. I am you. I am your only sane self which always stop you from getting your hopes up. If it wasn't for me, you would be broken by now. Listen to me, Munehiro. You will not shut me out. You can't.

I ignored the voice in the back of my head, just like I always do. I nodded and proceeded to follow him.

"You don't look British."

Don't be stubborn. Close your ears, Munehiro.

"Do you speak English?"

You can hear it too. He's mocking you. I know, I know. At least he's doing it right in front of your face, right?

"Yes," I retorted shortly.

"Talk to me," He insisted. I was quite surprised to receive such a sharp order. I knew it from that moment that it was not a request. Someone as proud as Atobe would not ask something of other people, especially not from someone who is of a lower social status than he is. Doing so would mean throwing his dignity. "Why won't you talk to me? Am I not worth your time?"

My pupils dilated when he said that. "N-no," I quickly answered. I felt as if I have to answer him. I could get away with it when I was with other people, but not this time. "I… words… words always… fail me." I stated, casting my gaze downwards.

"Well, you should still talk anyway! No one will like you if you don't try to blend in."

Proud, proud little heir of Plutocracy. Let's see how long he can maintain that coolness. You know that right, Munehiro? He will stop trying soon enough.

"…Okay…"

Atobe huffed in apparent frustration. Maybe he had decided that I wasn't worth his time after all. Maybe he would lead the way in silence. Then, he would not try to contact me anymore. And it's over.

Funny, isn't it? This is how long people can actually deal with you.

"Maybe we shouldn't go to the home theatre, after all."

See? He has given up already. That was what? 5 minutes? But again, you're used to this, aren't you, Munehiro? Being an old toy that no one really wants.

"Do you play tennis?"

I looked up in surprise. I was not expecting him to offer another option. I thought he would just stop trying. Maybe… just maybe… maybe I have a chance to befriend him…?

"Hmm, you look like you do, judging by the way you reacted. That was the most reaction I've ever gotten from you." Although the reason why I had given him a reaction was false, I was absurdly happy. I was happy that someone was actually willing to try to interact with me.

And maybe the other reason why I was exuberant to accept his offer was that the voice in the back of my head stopped for once.

Author's Note: I haven't written any fanfiction in awhile, sorry if it's a bit dodgy! My grammar isn't exactly the best either D: Anyways! If this got positive response, then I will make this multiple chapters!