Some people are just out of their minds…

Nowadays, though, it seemed like everyone was a trifle on the mad side, an explosive ready to be set off at any given moment, any twitch. Every person you bumped into was equally as up for suspicions, and you couldn't find a one innocent. The world was a lush forest and the people within it were flickering flames, each one threatening to send the forest raging into a fiery inferno, a deadly burst of heat and power which would ravage the lands and claim the weak as victims. If you wanted to survive the fire, you had to embrace its flames, you had to learn to work with the fire and survive its terrors. When you looked at people and their abnormal behavior, it wasn't very different.

As you walked down the street, you curiously gazed at each person, waiting for them to turn their backs before you gauged who they were as a person. Many thoughts entered your mind, some that would make a man blush, others which would earn a well-received thank you, and even clever wit that would likely get you decked in the face. The masses were strange, anomalous, but you enjoyed gauging them despite that, when it boiled down to it, they were all the same.

People were chatty at times and even as you attempted to weave around the masses, their voices echoed clearly into your ears. It was annoying at times; the public view was never your interest. You preferred silence, the feeling of solace and peace that was so rarely obtained in a chaotic world like this. It wasn't that you didn't like people. More so, it was that you didn't like a lot of people at the same time.

You stepped aside with a small huff as you were nearly charged into by someone in quite a hurry. It was like there was a deadly monster on their heels and everyone behind them was no more then a victim for it, some sort of meat to be tossed carelessly to the monster and sacrificed for the survival of one.

You grumbled an insult under your breath. You would have approached the person, but they were hardly worth it. Lunatic… and not in an entertaining way.

Quickly you made to clear from people, find a place where you could isolate yourself. Never would you move into an alley, as there were far too many questionable groups out there for you to feel safe, - it didn't matter whose side you were on, as that was of little consequence to you - but you still sought a place devoid of human life, or rather, where the masses found little thrill in. There were plenty of places were people would not lurk that were still safe.

Soon the crowds thinned into practically naught, and you sighed in relief as silence wrapped its loving fingers around you, embracing you in its true serenity. The stone-paves path was devoid of life, leading to an area shrouded in shrubbery. You moved for it, knowing there would be a place to sit and rest.

The trees and bushes grew taller around you, hiding the boisterous city, but still allowing for sunlight to glisten through. You almost purred in content as you took in the area. You inhaled and exhaled fresh air, and your ears blessed the peace and quiet.

Eventually you came to a branch in the path, one direction which you knew would merely wrap around and deliver you back to civilization, and the other which would dive deeper into the realms of nothingness. You, naturally, moved down the path less traveled. You knew there would be a small sitting area up ahead, somewhere for you to kick up your feet and breathe, breathe for as long as you desired. You could rest there and breathe until the oxygen around you fell into decline and you would forever have your serenity, your peace. That was what you expected by now.

What you weren't expecting was to near your resting place and spot another person, someone else who clearly had the same idea. The male was quite a ways away, and you stopped dead as soon as he came into your line of sight. Sitting alone was a thin male dressed mostly in off-white, a colour which differed every so slightly from the glowing, light silver of his wild, spiky hair. His eyes were efficiently hidden by the dark purple sunglasses. You also noted he was wearing headphones, which made it very likely he was attempting to mask the outside world, to fall into a place where only he existed - he very likely wouldn't hear anyone approaching.

'What in the world is he doing out here?'

The man glanced up. It was almost as if he heard you think, as if somehow your very thought had reached his ears. Ridiculous, you immediately thought. People can't read minds. It was likely you accidentally spoke out loud without realizing it and the man heard you. He might have been wearing headphones, but it didn't mean any audio was passing through them.

He wasn't speaking, but there was no denying that the man was staring directly at you, obscured as his eyes might have been. He was unmoving, unwavering in his stare, as though he were a frightened deer waiting to see if the nearby entity was a threat. He stared and stared and said not a word. He merely waited.

'Does he want me to leave? He won't say anything.'

"It depends on why you're here." It took you a moment to gather the sharp voice belonged to the silver-haired male, as you were shaken by a response you weren't expecting.

He answered you up front. Had you spoken out loud then too? Next time you spoke, internally or externally, you would have to make certain you were aware of which it was. It was silly, though, as you considered the hilarious notion of a person reading minds. What a funny thing to think someone could do, though you couldn't deny it would be an exciting power.

You weren't certain how to answer. How should you answer?

'I feel like everything I say will be wrong with this guy. I get the feeling he doesn't want me, or anyone, to be here. He doesn't look like he fancies people.'

"You're right, I don't. People are abysmal creatures. I can't stand how noisy they all are." It was him speaking again, and he caught you off guard once again.

You hadn't spoke that out loud. You thought that within the confines of your head, for it not to be shared with the masses. You had clearly shown yourself it was nothing more than a thought and as such, there was no way this man could've known how to reply correctly. Thus far, you hadn't spoken a word to him, but he had spoken plenty with you. In his mind, you were having a conversation. In yours, a stranger was having a one-sided chat with was basically amounted to his own mind.

"Are you talking to me?" you finally asked. First thing you said to the man, and it was a strange question like that. Maybe he was deluded, thought he was talking to someone else, or even unaware of you. He was staring, though. He was still staring.

The man tilted his head a little. "I have to be. There's not another person for at least five hundred meters."

For a fleeting moment, you were distracted by how he would know this. Yes, it was true that there was a high improbability of there being other people around, but it seemed oddly specific of him to denote that there wasn't another person for five hundred meters. That was a specific calculation, which meant he was gauging the area. Either he knew exactly what was going on within five hundred meters of his locale, or he was seriously bluffing. For some reason, the former was your assumption, although the latter was far more realistic.

'Just who is this man, anyways?'

"Mao." It was a single word, and for a minute, you thought he was trying to replicate the sound a cat makes. Then it clicked. Mao wasn't a cat sound effect; it was his name.

"Excuse me?" you asked uncertainly, taken aback by the mysterious stranger Mao - although you weren't certain of the truth behind his given name - as he stared at you. Thus far, you had literally said five words to him, but he had said much more in response, and despite your lack of commentary, it felt like a conversation.

"You asked who I was. I told you. Isn't that what you wanted?" Mao denoted in response, keeping as still as ever.

'I didn't ask who you were; I thought it. I've thought everything and you've had a perfect response for it. It can't be coincidence. You're reading my mind.'

Mao burst suddenly into excited laughter, his chest bellowing as audio ruptured from it. He leaped excitedly to his feet, like a young child who had just seen an ice cream truck drive by from their peripheral vision. His face lit up, his lips curled into a smile, and for no explicable reason, he started clapping. He clapped with thrill and power, amused by his own pointless action. "Yes, yes! You've got it! Oh, aren't you a clever little girl? Give the lady a prize, my good sir, I believe she's hit the target!"

'He got suddenly happy. Before he looked distressed.'

"I was distressed, oh how I was." Mao was approaching you quickly as he spoke, his lithe legs carrying his slender frame with speed in your direction. "You can't imagine how it feels, listening to all these noisy people ramble on about their trivial problems." He twirled slightly. "Oh no, I'll be late for the movies!" He sidestepped. "The price of cereal went up again." He leaped with glee. "What shall I get my brother for his birthday?" It was then Mao groaned. "Such trivial, trivial problems."

'It sounds…'

Why bother thinking it? He made it vividly clear he can read minds, though through what power you were uncertain. You couldn't make internal commentary on the situation because your deepest hidden thoughts were an open book to the stranger. If you thought something, he would simply reply to it, continue speaking to a person who hasn't said a word to him edgewise.

'The least I can do is not make him look insane.'

Mao smiled, but said not a thing.

"It sounds like you've got problems you feel are greater than the masses." you replied to him, finally having a full conversation with the man. Something was clearly on this mysterious stranger's mind, and although he could read your every thought, you didn't get the same foothold on him. The man had a mere conversational advantage over you, and a casual conversation was never something you thought you'd compete, nonetheless be defeated, in.

"You might say that." Mao purred in response, still staring, still watching, still observing. You wanted to wonder what he was looking for, but he would only read your thought if you did. He likely already knew you considered it.

'Wait a moment… He looked up when I approached him, from such a ways away. I thought a mere sentence and he heard me. He couldn't have been waiting for me; he didn't even know who I was. He still doesn't know. Can he not turn it off? Does he hear everyone around him with no end? That must be painful.'

Mao burst into a victorious applause, congratulating you on your conclusion. "Exactly, exactly! Everything and everyone never keeps its voice down. The people just keep thinking and thinking their selfish thoughts, their trivial concerns. They don't have to worry about mind reading, about the endless jabbering prattle." He frowned a little, quieting down. "It is very painful. I don't want to hear everyone. I want to speak with people one-on-one, of my own accord."

"Is that why you wear the headphones?" you asked abruptly, quickly putting two and two together and forming a complete thought.

He nodded. "It is." He stepped closer to you, moving an arm around you backside. For a moment, you twitched as he made contact with you, pushed himself into your personal space, but you loosened up quickly. He was very close, standing over you - although you couldn't decide if he was a looming monster or a guardian angel.

'He doesn't seem threatening.'

Mao removed the headphones, holding them up for you to see. As soon as he removed them, you could hear audio coming from them. There was a voice, a soft female voice humming into the speakers. At first you thought someone was speaking with the man, but as he moved the headphones closer to you, - likely sensing your incorrect thought and moving to correct it - you could hear it was a loop. The voice just replayed the same lines over and over again, comforting, loving, saying Mao's name on repeat.

'Mao…'

"I don't want to hear others, so I just listen to the voice of my darling C.C, listen to her loving words." Mao seemed to lose intensity as he spoke, softening with each word.

"Does C.C know of this power of yours? Is that why she speaks to you like that?" you asked him confidently.

"C.C gave me my power, thought it wasn't like this when I first got it. I used to control the power, but now it controls me. I don't mind playing to it because it's ever so helpful. C.C doesn't know I have this recording of her, never knew. Maybe she does. I'm not sure." Mao spoke with a variety of emotions and you listened carefully, gauging his thoughts.

'C.C gave him a power that would one day consume him and never told him this would happen? Yet he still vies for her. Does no one else care about him? Is she his only friend in this world?'

Mao replied, "She is. Nobody else wants to be friends with little old Mao because he's strange. Little Mao is eccentric, sadistic, immature, un-empathetic, mad! Mad, they call me! Mad! Little Mao is off his rocker, they say!"

'I'd be your friend.'

Mao went quiet. You were shocked as he lowered his sunglasses to look you dead in the eye. His eyes were a crimson red in colour, a strange winged shape decorating them rather then irises or pupils. "I must have misheard your thoughts."

"I'd be your friend." you repeated. "You are a wonderful guy who had been mistreated by a cruel world. You want someone to be with you but no one wants to. I don't like most people, but you're an exception. I think you deserve a friend. I think you deserve someone who appreciates you."

'I think you deserve more than a friend…'

"I know what you think." Mao interrupted, smiling as he returned his sunglasses to their position. It was a different smile, though. The smile was far gentler, softer. While his other smiles had been vicious birds of prey slowly tearing apart their victims, this one was a curious kitten, realizing it had found someone it could nuzzle. "I know you think I deserve a friend; I know you think I deserve someone who appreciates me. I also know you think I deserve more than a friend."

"I…" you mumbled, failing to produce a word.

Mao's grin widened, but it was still soft. "Remember, I can read your mind. I have someone I want as that person, but they never want me. I do everything I can to make her happy, to show her my love, but she doesn't notice. I could never bring myself to hate her, never ever, but I don't think she loves me. I wish she did."

'I do.'

"Yet, I know someone who does." Mao continued. "I know someone who loves me. She's a lovely girl who isn't fond of people. She likes to gauge others as she walks by and she has a special fondness for this special isolated area of the park. She didn't want to be with lots of people, but it doesn't mean she hates everyone. She's a good conversationalist, she's expressive and colorful, and she seems to randomly forget she's speaking to a man who can read minds." You found yourself blushing a little as Mao spoke. He wrapped his arm more fondly around you, pulling you closer, and you didn't resist. "She never thought a cruel thought of me, and I never thought one of her. I know there's a girl who loves me, and I hope one day I can tell her I love her."

You smiled a little as Mao looked at you, staring, undeterred. It wasn't the same stare from before, as it radiated a different aura. He pulled you close, and you nuzzled against him. It was curious, falling in love with a stranger. He was a stranger who had an insane glint to the eye and a personality most would describe as eccentric. Yet, he was perfect to you nevertheless. You found yourself wrapped in his coat as he pressed closer to you.

"I'll never hate C.C. Never ever." Mao hummed. "I'll just be aware that she doesn't love me. That's alright, because there's someone else out there who does." He held you tight, but not painfully so, like he was afraid to let you escape. "I know you love me. I can hear you thinking it."

'Of course I love you.'

Mao lifted his hands and clapped. He seemed to cherish the action, to find joy in it, to perform it when it was most pointless and find it just dashing. As he finished clapping, he placed his hands upon your cheeks and held you softly as he moved you kiss you. You pressed your body against his as you become one with the man, the past stranger. With this act, never would you be strangers again. You felt the warmth of his body crawl into your veins, soothe your muscles, bring you inner joy. All your life, you'd searched for the one person you connected with. Finally, you found the person. You found the person you truly cared for, the person you would die for.

His name was Mao.

And he was completely out of his mind.