He was always quiet. Infuriatingly so. He had a way of sitting back and watching with eyes wiser than his years that made it difficult for Xander to concentrate, and while Xander's method of handling not being able to concentrate generally involved continuing to talk anyway, Oz just…watched.
He was always so quiet.
And when he did speak, it was always short, succinct, to the point, as if he had somehow managed to go through a master list of all possible things to say and had been able to select just the right one at just the right time. He never stuttered, never faltered, was never apologetic for something he said.
It made Xander nervous.
He had even tried learning from his example; tried staying quiet one afternoon. Willow had been at his side in almost an instant, asking tremulously whether anything was the matter, and once again Xander had managed to embarrass himself: "What? I can't just sit andlisten for once? I'm a good listener, you know. I can listen. Maybe I can contribute by listening, did you ever think of that? Why does nobody have a problem with Oz being so quiet?" He had snapped his mouth shut several sentences too late, feeling his face redden. Open mouth, insert foot, he had thought miserably, rolling his eyes.
Oz had raised a bemused eyebrow, but had, unsurprisingly, kept silent.
Xander had fled the library amidst an extremely chatty tide of humiliation.
Maybe I should sew my mouth shut. Or cut my tongue out, he thought now. Both extremely effective ways of being less with the chatter, but there is the problem of food. I could start an IV drip of beef broth-- He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. Does it never stop?
When
he opened them again, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand,
Oz's eyes were on him. He noticed that there were flecks of gold in
the green irises, and looked away, flushing slightly. He heard the
other boy chuckle softly, heard him sit down next to him.
"You
okay?"
Xander glanced at him. "Me? Oh, yeah, I'm completely fine. Totally square." Er-- "Well. Not square in the L-7, 'be-there-or-be-' sense, or really in the physically rectangular sense--" The eyebrows again. Xander sighed. "Um. I'm fine. Thanks."
Oz smiled, patted his shoulder, stood. "Okay."
And then he was gone. That is so unfair, Xander thought.
end
