{{ Something I scribbled up to cheer m'self up. ; u ; Hope you guys like it~ }}

The brunette giggled, her lips curling up into pointed grin. She wriggled her fingers in anticipation before they pressed into her flushed cheeks, pushing them forward and smooshing her face. She watched the man's fingers sign from across the room, their communication silent and going unnoticed by their peers and teacher.

They had been friends since age eleven; just before Meulin had lost her hearing in a car accident. Some would think living in a deaf world would be torturous, but it wasn't too bad living in silence; especially since Kurloz was a mute to begin with.

Meulin watched as Kurloz's digits spelled out letters to her. It took her a minute to interpret what he said (her deciphering skills were still rusty, despite being exposed to sign language for eight years,) but eventually it translated successfully and she let out a giggle before signing back.

The reply she got was a rather out-of-the-blue question: "So who is it?"

She blinked in mild surprise. They had been speaking of Mituna and Latula just seconds before, the inquiry drastically out of context. She quickly signed back: "Who's who?"

"Yours," was the blatant, simple response. Oh how she hated how abrupt and vague he could be sometimes.

With knitted eyebrows, Meulin signed back with some minor mistakes: "Who is my what?"

Kurloz's grey lips curled up into a small smile. His hand moved swiftly: "Your crush. Latula told me about him. I'm offended to be the last informed."

"My crush?"

"Yes."

Meulin pursed her lips and scrunched up her nose childishly. "Who's yours?"

"Mine?"

"Yeah!" she chirped out. The volume of her voice momentarily gained the attention of the teacher, who lifted his head and simply gave Meulin a 'warning' look. He ducked his head back down, but not before combing back the scarce wisps of grey hair that rooted from his scalp.

When Meulin turned her head back to look at Kurloz, he held a finger to his lips and signed with his other hand: "Shh. I asked you first."

The girl frowned and let out an audible whine. She signed back: "No! You tell me first!"

Rolling his eyes, Kurloz eventually gave in: "I don't like to say, because it's kind of hard for me."

"How's it hard?"

"It just… Is."

"How come?"

The clown's expression grew a bit solemn. "It's hard and long to explain."

"We've got another hour of this class," the girl insisted. "I've got plenty time to listen and learn!"

Kurloz's smile was wry. He loved the irony of those words and how they left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. "That's just the thing, Mew."

The girl looked confused. "What's the thing? There's a thing?"

"Yes."

There was a pause, Kurloz's hand faltering. Meulin tilted her head, recognizing the little twitch in his fingers. He did it once before when explaining an accident that occurred with his younger brother; it was a signal that he was thinking. She waited patiently.

Eventually, Kurloz gained enough confidence to form the words: "The thing is, she can't listen to me. She'll never be able to hear me. I won't be able to tell her how much I love her; she'll never hear my voice. It's upsetting."

The words took a minute to sink in. But, when they did, Meulin's eyes widened momentarily. Then her face grew serious and she quickly signed back with clumsy fingers: "I don't need to hear to be able to know you love me."

Kurloz stared for a long moment before his lips curled up into that small smile of his. It was hardly noticeable, but Meulin was sure she saw the faintest hint of a blush rising up through the white of his clown makeup. The sight made her heart flutter and her fingers curl around the edge of the stool she sat upon.

"You always were good at guessing games," Kurloz signed before his body shuddered from chuckling.

Meulin sent him another Cheshire cat grin.