Chapter Two:

SILENCE AND NOISE.

Silence.

Is him.

But definitely, not the world around him.

Life itself is a noise. A never-ending one. Once you go outside, the chaotic noise will never stop.

What have you been doing lately? Are you living your life? How's your job? Did you study for that test? Life sucks. I hate it. I wish I could get rich. I just want money. Did you see that movie? He's really cute! You think she'll notice me? Ah, that guy looks like a creep. The government sure is being a failure. The chatters span from the most trivial to the most controversial ones.

And as if these words were not enough to sway the city noise into a much more chaotic explosion of sounds, the honks of cars are certainly worth to mention. Day in and day out, they sped across the busy streets whenever he had to step out of his room to go to the usual place. Oftentimes, when he sees a fire truck coming, he would cover his ears. He hated the sound of the siren. The ambulance was no exception. Of course, it was common sense that they were loud sounds. But to him, it was more than that. It agitated him. As if these noises say-somewhere, someone out there, there was danger. A person whose life is at stake.

Perhaps, he was also jealous.

That inanimate things could make these noises.

But not him.

He sees his mother enter the room. Ask the doctor questions. Hear her saying something about how the patient is still struggling. This was not his decision after all. He had been very much against this. He would have wanted to stay inside his room and read about his favorite volleyball team.

And that's the problem.

He could shake his head profusely, wave his hands in such an aggressive way that could probably make him like some ridiculous mime actor.

But they just speak for him. His parents. The people around him.

He yearns. He yearns for it.

To open his mouth and just scream. Words. Sentences. Even a mere whimper, grunt. Laughter. Scowl. Hiss. All the sounds that a living thing like him could make. And when he does, he'd make sure he'll drown out every sound that exists in the city.

"Kageyama, we're gonna be back here next week, okay?"

He bit his lips. Actions speak louder than words? Yeah right. He'd pretty much given up on using all the hand signals that he could think of.

He just stared back and glared. At least his eyes could do the job. Hopefully.

The doctor smiles. "You'll be able to speak one day."

He clenches his fists, but he hides them behind the chair.

Her mother bows and thanks the doctor for all the "help". He does the same. It's better to live through society's roles anyways.

He follows her mother's back, not even giving a glance at the people that walked to and fro the hospital.

Until his eyes caught something.

Something striking.

A color.

Orange.

The boy looked back. Crap. He must have noticed his stare.

He then got a full view of that boy to whom the orange hair belonged to.

Their eyes met.

It was weird. The moment it happened, he swore he wasn't able to perceive any other noise. Not a single sound. It was as if…everything just muted.

But soon he realized, the boy wasn't exactly looking at him. The pair of amber eyes looked unfocused as he stared at a space that was inches off the spot where the lad stood. Still, it seemed that he was aware of the fact that there was a presence before him.

"Who's there?"

The question made him flinch. He remembers the time he painstakingly spent just to get adjusted to the doctor's questions. Sure, she was a nice woman but still—strangers are just not within his circle of comfort.

"Kageyama?" Her mother called.

His name brought him back to his senses.

He bit his lips again and offered the boy a silent apology.

The orange head smiled to himself. He then reached out his hands to see if he was taking the usual route to his spot.

"Must have been some curious kid…" He mutters as he finally gets hold of a post. Placing his free hand against the wall for support, the orange head stands in front the window.

And stares.

The noises are lively as always. And to him, these noises are his proof of comfort.

It is the proof that what stretches beyond him is not plain darkness. And that someday, he would see it.

It is a proof that the world around him exists. And he was a part of it.

As the black-headed boy walked, he felt a strange pinch in his heart.

For the first time, he wished he could have said something.

As if to affirm his existence and say:

"Yes. I am here."

And I am a part of your world.

A.N.: So I decided to continue it. XD.