I dislike silence.
It makes me uncomfortable, really. It's a simple fact. I hate keeping silent about my feelings especially. I wonder day in and day out if maybe I should say something – open my mouth and let every word that I want to be heard burst forth, beating hot air against many a day's cold breeze, if only for her to hear. Sometimes, I think that my talking turns her away from me, though. I do enjoy talking, even if it's more about not having stillness, as can be figured out from everyone telling me to be quiet. I /can/ actually be silent, contrary to popular belief. I am not unaware of my constant talking issue. However, it's not like she doesn't talk a lot either. People don't notice it when she's with me; she is always boasting about her gold and sticking fish puns everywhere she can. She oozes confidences from every pore, can't stop thinking about herself for one second, and all in all won't clam up. She doesn't even feel sorry for insensitive things she says to others until it's too late half the time.
Yet, for some reason, it's in the quiet that I can see how much I've really fallen for Meenah. It's here reading under this broken cork screw tree on top of a grassy knoll, with the last of light from sunset in the warm air, reading soundlessly as I steal glances at her fidgeting form, that I can simply bask in the emotions I hold for her. I've seen other people dealing with these emotions and it is tiring – the pining, the longing, the wishing, and hoping. However, it's kind of fun when someone feels it for themselves. /Kind of/. Meenah is still constantly changing positions. It's slightly distracting. She has always been squirmy; it makes me question why she does this with me every so often. I never ask her to. She simply follows me when I say I'm going to go read and stays with me. It's not her style; one can tell easily from her movement that she's aching to get up and do something. She must be bored doing nothing for an hour. Well, it doesn't matter, I suppose. It is always her decision to come with me or not.
It's been a long time since she's gotten into a fight with any of our friends. At times, it was like war within our own group – all because of her. But, she's calmed down a lot lately, with little to no instigation with the exception of teasing and triggering Kankri .Who doesn't trigger Kankri, though? Her bluntness leading to some situations aside, it's quite nice. Currently, the wind is picking up and flipping my pages back and forth. It'll be time to go soon. Meenah, I can see from the corner of my eye, has stopped moving. She's just lying there, looking at the sky turn from yellow and orange hues to a dusty gray. I close my book quickly, hearing the binding protest my shutting it so fast. It's a brand new book about swashbuckling pirates. I never seem to get enough of those stories.
Meenah is looking at me now – I guess I closed the book too loudly and the noise caught her attention. I smile a soundless "hello" at her, to which she responds back with mute gusto. Her toothy grin sends my head to the clouds. It's clear enough that I can still think, of course, but it's always a shock that her grin matches her persona so well. Sharp, shark-like teeth and the way her eyes crinkle slightly more on one side than the other when it is a truly happy smile. It's adorable. My heart catches in my throat and I look away, hoping I'm not blushing and that, if I did, she didn't catch it. It's the little things like that that get me. There are plenty of flowers under the cork screw tree to distract me. I pick up one on my side, the other arm lying listlessly closer to Meenah, as petals fall to the ground, swaying in the air before noiselessly placing themselves in the grass. The sun has laid itself completely beneath the horizon now, the moon taking over its solemn duties upon the sun's departure.
There's a small, but noticeable touch against the hand that's nearby Meenah. It's the faint in and out touch reminiscent of a bug. Maybe it's an ant. While I do not dislike bugs, I do dislike when they crawl on me. I stifle the urge to shake it off right away, and check to see if an insect is really there. To my utter surprise, it's really Meenah's small pinky. She has tiny hands for a girl who constantly gets into fist fights. Her face is now turned away from me, but her fingers are inching closer to my hand. Suffice to say, I have no idea what she's doing. My hand stiffens slightly, and she takes back her own for a second. But it's not long before one of her fingers is back on me. She hooks it around one of my fingers; it's cool but clammy at the same time. What is she even doing? I'm obviously blushing by now; she's not looking, so it's okay. Alright, Serket. It's time for some deductive skills. Why is she doing this? This first hope that comes to my mind I shake away, because while it is a slim possibility, that's just it. It's slim. Her loving me the same way I love her is simply out of the question. Maybe she's looking for some heat since her hands are so cool. Her dark skin against my pale flesh is a stark contrast that, for some reason, makes my heart pump faster when I look at it. Her skin against mine…it's nice. I want to say something – anything. Yet, my words are so discombobulated in my own head – words are forming, echoing – joining each other in sentences that don't even make sense at all. My head is spinning out of control – this isn't making me feel particularly pleasant. Maybe I should enjoy what's going on here – instead of questioning it so much.
Yes, actually, that sounds like a good plan. Better than getting dizzy and having to let go of her hand, at least.
Meenah's hand warms up soon, after her whole hand intertwines with my own, and mine gets a little sweaty, but she doesn't let go. I could sit here a thousand hours doing this, oddly. It's quiet. Not a word is said between us for the next half hour, in all reality. It doesn't sound fun; however, it's probably the best thing that has happened to me in a very long time. Her face is looking up toward the stars in the sky. I catch her peeking at me sometimes, and I'll smile, then she'll look back up, the corner of her mouth upturning slightly. I wonder what she's thinking. I always do. I wish she would tell me what's on her mind. Right now it doesn't matter, I guess. It's just us here. Her and me, side by side. I'm not hers. She's not mine. But it's fine to pass the time like this, I think. I know it's weird that I don't want to talk. For once, though?
I'll take the quiet.