"A pleasure, to see you again." He said, smiling as he sat down.

There was quite a long pause. Elsa looked at John, expecting him to be impatient. But he wasn't. He sat still, motionless, possibly thinking. It always took Elsa a little while to reply to people in person.

"Hello again, John."

They sat opposite each other. The school year was fast towards concluding and they were all to be drafted into high school. Elsa was not giving it much thought. She was truly scared. Primary school hadn't made her very trustworthy of others her age. High school, people were older. The work itself she wasn't thinking about.

John was much the same, but he saw himself as being able to stay out of trouble if he could. How interesting to him that he should even expect trouble.

"How was your weekend?" he asked. Elsa did not wish to bore him. But not wanting to be impolite. "You would find most of it boring."

Conversation. They each had their own parchments for it. John was flexible, but cautious. He would say hello, compliment you on your hair, say he was fine and try to get out if he could. He rationalised himself by considering that he didn't exist to entertain others. He lived for conversation he found interesting, but most other people had no need for the same ambitions.

Elsa memorised what others said. She was silent most of the time and rarely ever spoke. She could talk to Anna, to Mother and some others, but not often. She was more afraid of what conversations could lead to than anything. But what really got to her was how exhausting it could be. Breathing properly, speaking at the right pace, speaking loudly, clearly and listening to the other person or persons, she struggled to keep up. How others did it, she was sure she was unaware. Unlike John, it never occurred to her that she might want other people to find her interesting.

The only sure way to get her to talk, she thought, was honesty and an absence of pretence. She couldn't make herself talk if she wanted to, but honest people, people who spoke fearlessly and weren't afraid to talk about themselves in lights other than good ones; they were people she wanted to hear from when she could be bothered.

The colour and wavelengths of light people viewed themselves through, from bright and warm lights to dark and flickering ones, Elsa was only sure that she saw herself without a rose tint. She thought that John saw himself in some strange yellow light. She assumed, without really wondering why, that he was more full of himself than he liked to say.

The notebook, the way he spoke, he seemed terribly self aware. What Elsa did not yet know was that Anna had met him and decided he was compensating for something. The past clung tightly to his heels and no matter how hot they got from whatever was chasing him, he stood still. Elsa was thinking all of this slowly and she came back to earth to see John writing in his notebook. She had forgotten where they had been. She was frustrated.

"Uh. I'm sorry I...I daydreamed."

He replied with a sheepish smile. "It's quite alright."

"What did you do on the weekend?"

John thought about it. He collected the events.

"Well, I went and spent time with my friend Kristoff. Then I did things like stargazing."

He was boring himself.

"Did you do anything fun?"

"How do you mean?"

"Did you do anything that was worth talking about?"

He thought. He had been thinking a good deal about music. Music made him move around and his brain felt like it was actually walking when he heard it.

"Well, I think I have discovered something about music on MP3's and the brain."

Elsa never found interest in recorded music. She knew pieces to play for the Violin and a select few songs that got to her in some way she couldn't understand, but she was intensely unwelcoming to new sounds.

"And what have you discovered?" If she could understand it, she would have deployed sarcasm on the last word.

"I think that when you feel like moving to music, it's a good sign. I think it can actually help people." And on he went.

Elsa's boredom was being held back by her compulsive need to be nice. She thought she had to tell John something, but having the skinny dolt in front of her made her feel no compulsions. She felt nothing was to be said.

She hated this feeling. She didn't feel so bad on his part. There were people like him all over. She had met people 'like her' before but they were almost always frauds.

All that history, the past. Things worth writing the night before...all of it seemed gone. Rushed like a snuffed flame from wounded ash.

She felt bad because there was not anguish, which would have made her confide, nor joy or companionship, which would have made her respond, even half-heartedly. But he had one thing about him he had mentioned thus far: Music.

A thought, a pause, a look.

"John, I want you to do something for me. With music."

Am I testing him? Do I test people? Well, I don't have a lab so...

And John was also infused with a sense of manic attention above anything, but Elsa only noticed his cheeks seemed tauter.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I want you to do something with me in mind involving music."

He paused and then realised she had taken him at face value and smirked. It was like a confirmation.

"Yes of course. What would you like me to do exactly?"

Elsa was showing up blank.

"I don't know, John. Sorry. Something absorbing" She said flatly.

He had already decided he wanted her to hear a song he had loved for years.

Or he had, until she gave him a different suggestion.

"Music that is challenging to hear."

He smiled once more.

"I have just the thing. Don't suppose you can meet me after school? Visit my house? I promise it is not far."

"I can. Where is your house?"

He gave her an in-depth serious of instructions as to where it was. He thought about asking why she needed to ask but quickly discounted it. Constant need for justifications of the boring stuff would just make him boring.

He was internally ecstatic.

But before fun and potential friendship- Tedium.

And the school provided tedium.

After School

Counting shadows. The clouds were moving quickly and stroked the atmosphere. A carpet would show itself on the ground and scuttle away, smoothly, easily. John saw it as similar to a loading bar. Elsa experienced it more vividly. She had to stop walking every few seconds because when the sun went away for a moment, she could feel it leave. She found it akin to the sensation one has when one forgets to breathe in having stared at something for slightly too long.

The contrast came though and as the sun came back, she imagined a breath of air filling her lungs and dividing until it reached the blood. Fuel for thought.

She was so lost she almost failed to notice the house, with its stone steps, grass flanking it and pebble paths on each side. The door was a very vivid green, like hers, but its style was different. Everything seemed untouched. The walls were of stone but on the inside, it had been more comfortably furnished. The smell was one of intense disparity. She imagined a rose red like blood oozing with smell. It was a warm smell but it was unstable and seemed to change depending on where you stood. Other less interesting smells were permeating and Elsa was getting too lost in them for her own liking. The intense sunlight, the extremes of everything around them, just by the front door.

They stood inside the door and removed their outer clothes, of which she had none. No need for coats or jackets in this weather. She wore her school uniform, which she found comfortable enough.

They were now approaching his room. It was cool in the house. There were little bits and pieces every it could be placed. Tables with things on them. John mentioned his Mother had a love for small cow trinkets. Elsa found it strange, but she herself had collected stranger things, she realised. Geologic stones. Different styles of theatre tape. Oddly shaped stones. Walking sticks from times at beaches and in the woods. A coin, of different values, one for each year since 1971. Petals from different flowers.

Then, at her mentioning, Johns Mother, a blonde haired woman with a very young face for her age, appeared.

"Hi Son."

"Hi Mum. That's me in. And this is Elsa Antonia."

His Mother stood taken aback for a moment as the girl turned the corner. But the woman cracked open a smile and frothed friendliness.

"Hello there Elsa, nice to meet you!" The Woman chorused.

"You know each other from School?" She asked with rhetorically.

Elsa, not quite ready to look at the woman, replied truthfully.

"Yes. We met in school and started speaking last week."

There was a pause of unknown origin, so Elsa continued.

"He started speaking to me on Friday. He came up and spoke to me and also gave me a blue notebook..."

Elsa had not seen it but Johns Mother gave him a look of what he guessed was derision, but she kept it sly. He thought harshly that Elsa would not have noticed anyway. His mood was getting not just bad, but angry. At his Mothers sudden appearance. Childhood. What a time.

Let's hope the teenage years serve me better.

"Well, I'm glad to see you are making friends, John."

He mimed his door open and exaggeratedly gestured to Elsa to come in. He did this to get away from his Mum as much as for Elsas benefit. Neither intention wasted, she stepped inside and he closed the door without a third thought.

John's room was smaller than Elsa's. She thought it was appropriate, as John seemed to live a great deal of his life in his head. The room was clearly well lived in. There was a chair, a computer and desk. The desk had stains from ink, what seemed to be paint, possible chalk and what she hoped was food.

A globe sat near the window, which was letting in the resplendency of the sun. There were books on it, one turned up right, the others neatly arranged next to each other. One red cover, then yellow, green and blue, in such an order it had to be intentional.

The bed was well kept and the pillows erect and fluffed. His cupboard was cluttered in extremis, but neat, like everything else she could see, with the exception of the desk. The cupboard faced towards the bed, which itself was laid out from the window, pillow window side. The desk was next to the cupboard, tan coloured. It was packed with paper, pens, other writing utensils, post it notes and a mirror with a cloth over it, defeating its purpose, she thought.

She smelled something interesting. She guessed it was incense, or something similar. He had a bedside cabinet and on it sat three objects which for Elsa seemed strange things to put there, as they were easy to reach but she seldom thought them in need of such ease of access.

One was a picture of a girl. A small picture, the girl looked about John's age now, but the photo looked older by what must have been a year or two. It was facing openly at an angle that made it visible to most of the room. There was a touch of dust upon it.

Another was a small, circular glass. After a moment she thought it was a shot glass. It looked very ornate and beautiful. It had some kind of purple bottom and it stood with another object beside. It looked brand new.

The final object was an ovular pendant. It had little teeth, in Elsa's view, which curved on top of one another, over and over into a circle. On the top, each leaf-like section had a metal colour in it. The colours made a rainbow of what must have been 10 to 15 shades. It started at red, moved towards Violet and then faded back into red. There was something new and old about it, global but personal too. It seemed a symbol to her. But she was not sure what of.

The walls were coloured white. It had been purple before, which she could tell from the flames of it at the very edges of the walls.

In summary, the room was well lived in with many things to accommodate. Everything looked organised and ordered except his desk. It was not chaotic, but slightly dirty and seemed to be where John was most. There was practically no dust except a faint trace of it around his bedside cabinet and the objects therein. All other things seemed to be placed and used in a precise way that Elsa could not help but admire. This place would have been immensely satisfying for her to view, more than it already was, but the rooms very raison d'être seemed tarnished by its small but interesting occlusions to this organisational rule. The Desk and the Cabinet.

"Why did you paint the walls white?" she said with a sense of curiosity towards him.

"Well observed. I realised that white walls reflect light more and promoted clear thinking to my brain. I get fewer headaches at night, but more in the daytime." He explained.

She was staring contentedly out the window.

"It's a good room. I like the colour of the walls and the bed." She muttered sheepishly. She was trapped in that awful swamp of not knowing what to say which, with John, she took slightly more seriously.

He didn't seem too annoyed. He sat on his chair and moved towards his desk, spinning to face her.

"Elsa, don't stand on formality here. If you don't feel like talking you don't need to. It's rare I get visitors so I like to show off a little a bit. All the effort I put in for my own piece of mind. It's nice to see it appreciated."

"I think I know what you mean. You keep order because if you don't you feel like you can't keep up with everything. But the price of keeping order is that you are the only who bothers keeping up."

John turned to his computer. "Something like that."

He spent the next 5 minutes starting it up. It was a big, heavy and dull thing that Elsa had not often come across. She stood still in front of the by now closed door behind her, facing his bed and the window. She wasn't just taking it in. She didn't want to trespass on anything of Johns. Manners kept were never lost.

He turned to find her still standing there, the sun was right above her eyes and in her hair.

"Elsa, you can sit down if you like."

"Where?" she asked pre-cociously .

"The bed, the floor. I have a spare chair but it doesn't spin like mine." He span in the thing, grinning foolishly. She didn't find it funny at first, but found his grin made her and she breathed in, chortling for a second. John was surprised.

"Can I please sit in the spare chair?"

"Of course. It's over there, to your right." He pointed to it and then turned back to the computer screen. She expected him to get it for her, not wanting to trespass. But he seemed non-acting. So she reluctantly went over and got the wooden chair. It, like almost everything else, was very sleek and clean. She pulled it up and sat next to him, slightly behind him.

"Ok, I have several songs you might like. Do you like lyrics, instrumentals, a mix of the two?"

Elsa thought for a long moment. He didn't look at her but John was momentarily fascinated by her thinking. She would go quiet and take her time. Yes, he noticed it more now. She did it whenever he asked her something challenging or, admittedly, strange. He didn't think it was a sign of patience however, rather a sign of just being careful.

"Instruments are what I know. Some lyrics are good but most aren't. I find them distracting to hear usually. But please, do try them."

John nodded with her answers, seeming engaged, partly to hide his own feeling of distance from her, something he did not like. He felt very unaccommodating and even forceful in his idea to bring her along. He was desperately hopeful that she wasn't uncomfortable. It may have been her idea but still.

"Well, I have these headphones, untouched and unused, because you said you like to be absorbed in music?"

"Yes. I do."

"Ok, three songs. Ill adjust the volume until you give me a thumbs up. If you don't like it, just take them off. Ok?"

Elsa nodded. "I understand." She thought for a moment as she put the things on.

"Let's see what you have for me, Mr Hardy."

John smiled. "Let's"

The first sounds were of drums. They were intense and sudden and reverberated quite loudly. John as turning down the volume and trying indicate with his hands how much she liked its intensity. She gave thumbs down and was slightly displeased to find the music had stopped, but she was still feeling indifferent to her manners and said nothing.

"That was "I don't care anymore" By Phil Collins. Have you heard of him?"

She shook her head non-committal.

"Ok, Elsa Antonia, try this one."

Play he pressed.

Elsa could hear a very strange, very high sound. It was vaguely 8-bit, but this did not satisfy her. No, she could see, in her mind's eye, a great many lights suddenly. They were on a palette. She found it intense and closed her eyes to see it better. It was consistent but random all at once. The background was like a white light, opaque and a very orange sunlight crept around it. The lights were like stationary fireworks. They worked with the rhythm well and Elsa could not quite move to it but the feeling in her mind was of intense pleasure and hyperactive imagination.

Then the guitar riff came in.

The lights of many hues were suddenly a flash and then faded back into their random, ever changing pattern with the other, less identifiable sound that she was enjoying much more.

Duun. Dun-dun...Duun. Dun-dun...

The rhythm began to make more sense as the guitar made its routine apparent. A quick succession of drums and then it all streamlined. She was unsure where she was but she was fascinated by the effect the music was having on her imagination. It was so intense and immediate, she got lost in it in a way she could only compare to the way she felt when she lay in the field in that lonely morning.

It kept going and she was getting content with it. The 8 bit, or at least, digital sound was going through an ever changing pitch. She found the way it materialised like gentle, tiny flies with huge luminescent lights on their backs. They were being seen from afar.

"OUT HERE IN THE FIELD."

She was startled by the lyric but liked what was said. She didn't understand the next one but she was too distracted now and waved to John and opened her eyes.

The music died away. Elsa was not as glad of it as she thought after a moment to adjust back to the room.

"So, what did you think of that one? You certainly listened for longer."

"It was...I'm not sure. I liked it. Loved it, in fact, at first but I just got distracted by the lyric. But the music...oh my god. Very few songs make me feel like that."

"I'm glad it was so engaging. You had your eyes closed and you seemed a lot calmer."

John was not exaggerating. From his Point of View, Elsa sinked into the song quickly and was quite empty of everything around her. Everything was going on behind those eyes. He knew that, and he knew little about people.

"I felt a bit lost, but in a pleasant way. I don't like being lost but I like the idea of being somewhere totally isolated or looked over and seeing things in it. And that song, musical piece, whatever it was, got me lost in those thoughts. I didn't know I could still do that."

"So this has happened to you before."

"Yes. I was a little younger. It was in the car. The song was "Crazy". I loved the music behind it."

John didn't try remembering what the song was.

"I can't recall that song."

"Oh well." Her eyes looked at him for the first time since she sat down. She didn't often realise quite how he looked. His eyes were a shade of brown that, as shades of such colours went, were unimpressive in his own mind. But his face seemed thick with thoughts trying to come forth but being lost somewhere along the way. She imagined his neurons contained many a dead messenger.

His hands were placed in a reptilian way over the keyboard. Everything about him looked evasively tired. He noticed her looking at him.

"You ok? You're staring off again."

Not staring, John, looking. Observing.

"Sorry. I'm fine. What was that song called?"

John turned back to the computer. "It was a song called 'Baba o'riley' by "The Who".

I've never heard of them before.

"Well, I liked how it started."

John felt a little better but uncomfortable with the way the day was turning out. He didn't like how pleased with himself he was getting with this 'development'. He almost felt like he couldn't think that thought. Assumptions. He was too prone to making them but hated himself for make them too.

"If you want, I could make a mix of that song for you to listen to. Cut out the annoying parts?"

Elsa thought for two minutes while John shut down the music player. He didn't want to ruin her mood by playing something else right now. He still thought that was over thinking things, but he was feeling resigned.

"No John. It's fine. You don't have to. I enjoyed it; I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do."

"Elsa Antonia...I don't see making it as a penance or chore. I want to be your friend. I want you to know I'm not 'out to get you'. And yeah, I'm aware lots of boys and some girls are total inconsiderates who only think for themselves. I don't want to seem 'special' by not doing that. I just wish to be friendly."

What the hell do I mean?

"I know John. And today has been fantastic. Really, it has been interesting. I wasn't bored. Do you hate being bored?"

John didn't even have to think before answering.

"More than anything. Misery is better than boredom. Pain can motivate one out of it and tragedy is never boring, even when it's self inflicted."

Elsa experienced a new found geniality with this sentiment.

"Boredom is my enemy too. The enemy of my enemy...is my friend."

John exhaled and moved his head down and up again.

"That was well put. Nice."

"So John, we are to be friends. I'm satisfied that you aren't annoying, violent, dangerous or anything except a bit weird. Sorry to put it like that."

"That's fine. My family have said worse. Yes Elsa. We can be friends. We will, by being so, Improve each other, maybe. I can help you to not apologise so much. I know it isn't your fault. It's always girls that do it. Makes me sad."

"Well, I know what you mean. I hope I can motivate you to open up perhaps.?It's quite clear you actually keep a lot of things in and I don't think it helps you."

"Same with you." He retorted, out of defence.

Elsa stood up and stretched her legs.

"So, we both admit we are flawed in the way we handle our own emotions, then?" She was still unsure about asserting any uniting truth with him, even now. Overstepping the mark was not an ideal thought to her.

"Yeah, let's go with that. Keep things simple."

She smiled. He did too. She walked towards the door with him following behind. Each played their role well in the exit. Following scripts, like everything in their lives, avoiding confrontation, terrified of making conversation, isolated from others, keeping prepared phrases and locking away the truth when it simmered in their minds. Not just because they didn't understand the world in which we loved, but because that world wasn't being much help to them. But encounters like this. They were worthwhile. And they helped.

"You are not alone, Elsa Antonia."

"John, since we spoke, I found myself hoping that sentence can be true. I offer you the same. Please, try to relax a bit. I can't read faces anymore than I can understand hieroglyphs but even I can tell you are much stressed. Sleep. Have a kit kat."

She walked away . She didn't like how she ended things though and as she reached the door, she wanted to make it clear to him she was being serious.

"There this quote I know. I can't think what it's from but I hope it makes more sense to you that it did to me."

John was intrigued and brightened up a bit.

"Lets see..." He prompted.

"Every villain is a hero in their own mind. The good people wonder far too much if they are really villains."

John was taken aback at this. For him, it meant a great deal to hear those two sentences.

"Who told you it?"

"My dad, King."

He stood dumb for a minute. Then he said a quick goodbye.

"I'll see you here again, Elsa Antonia."

And shut the door.

Well, King is right. Which does that make me?

Authors Commentary:

I've been busy with work since college finished. It's exhausting physically so I haven't been able to get into the mindset to write, but I had a lot of the details for this scene thought out in advance and I apologise for the delay. I enjoyed writing this scene very much and yeah, these two characters are my favourite to write.

10 Chapters!

Authors notes:

Longest chapter of any story yet on any of my fics, I believe. This story will continue to be written and I intend to finish it, but not for some time. There are still many chapters ahead. This fic will get longer because I feel I have a lot to say. I'll touch on the autism stuff soon.