Muted

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

You had a day off of work.

You spent it doing what was normal for any law-abiding citizen of the District. You woke up in your one bed-room apartment, at exactly the same time you woke up all other days of the week, and then took your Daily Supplements.

Then, after a meager breakfast, you inserted your government-provided earbuds and listened to the District's morning news, while you began your exercise routine. After all, physical fitness was not optional, but a duty owed towards one's community.

You were only feet away from making it back to your apartment door after your jog, when a body collided with your own, causing your earbuds to eject from your ears.

"Yoisho," you heard, and watched as your earbuds, along with another identical pair, scattered on the ground.

You looked up, studying the offender.

He looked just like you, adorn in the government-provided exercise gear, also likely coming back from his recommended morning cardio regimen.

Your eyes lagged on the way the fabric of his Over Armour hugged his waist before they met the steady gaze of your next door neighbor, who you had shared thin walls with for at least five years now.

Yuzuru Hanyu.

"I apologize, neighbor," he said plainly, quickly picking up both his fallen earbuds and yours. He held yours out to you, before you could reach for them yourself.

When they met your palm, you heard a foreign sound coming from them.

It sounded almost like a wind chime or perhaps static feedback, but rhythmic. You had never heard something quite like that before, especially coming from your earbuds. 

But, as quick as it came, it was gone.

You looked upwards, towards the man who was likely only a few years older than you. He was dark haired, neatly groomed. If you remembered correctly, which you always did, he was an elementary school teacher, and like you, had graduated from the only university in the District. 

Like you, he was a model citizen.

He looked back at you plainly, face blank and waiting for your response, clearly not having heard anything out of the ordinary coming from your earbuds. 

Perhaps your overwork and fatigue was beginning to affect your neurological functioning.

Your palm closed firmly, hand clasping around the items.

"Not a problem, neighbor," you said, before turning to your apartment door.

Upon entering your living area, you did a quick double-take on the earbuds in your palm, before neatly tucking them into their case, watching as a green light turned on, indicating an electrical current.

They must be low on charge.