5. Silence
There are times when we have to speak. We have to make a noise; a sound in the quiet to remind ourselves of the danger. Because silence can be extremely dangerous. Like a panther stilling the world around it as its prey lays unwary of the threat. We together are in panic. We must be.
It can be as simple as breathing a little faster, or rustling the carpet underneath bare feet, even the brush of fingers against fabric is enough to quell the fear. A moan so soft it sounds like a prayer. His lips will part, and he will release a drawn, shuddering sigh. I wonder if he ever really is trapped in silence. He is different than us, than them, than me. Does he will the voice away? Is it possible? For someone who rarely makes a noise as he, I often believe he isn't quiet at all.
But then again, there are times when we cannot shatter the calm with sound. These are the most beautiful; the times when I know he sees me in front of him, with those clear blue eyes that drain away the sadness of my heart yet leave me weeping. Though he can't know it. I will never make him questing this, because after finding him, I cannot bear to lose him.
So we stay here, in one room or another; often sitting; sometimes standing when either of us is too ignited to wait, or in the most alarming and exciting times we lay together, the force between us crackling like electricity. Sometimes, he will let his walls down and close his eyes and acknowledge me, us, this, as I run my fingers over his pale face. That way, I know he sees me. He sees me in the darkness with his hands and his skin and his mouth. And that is how we can be.
It makes up for far more than I can say. It will kill us if we aren't careful, but we can release it in another way entirely; one I had never imagined. He who speaks only to himself, and I who cannot stop. We are bound by the same medium. The silence between us, hovering in the room, closing around us, that is how we can be.