A/N: First of all, I'd like to apologize if this seems really inaccurate. Secondly, I wrote this on a whim. I think it's a little bit awkwardly paced, but I think it's good to explore different kinds of things. I don't want all my stories to have to deal with romantic relationships, you know?
So yeah. Enjoy this oneshot.
I do not know how I got here.
I mean, I did know. I got here because my parents decided we had to move, but their reasoning seemed fake to me.
They just told me they knew of an area that was more friendly. That was enough, I guess, to stop my racing thoughts.
I'm in the school cafeteria now, sitting by myself at a table. I know none of these people. There are faces I recognize from some classes, but that is it.
You would think people would try to ask about the new kid who popped up in the middle of the year, but everyone was too busy in their groups to even approach me.
But at the same time, I felt safe being by myself.
There's no way to sit by myself in classes. In my math class, a piece of paper that's folded lands on my desk. I look at it, before opening it up.
hi. i think i heard your name was dan. i'm phil, the kid who sits to your right. it's nice to meet you. ^-^
Immediately, I look to my right, and see him. Phil. He's got black hair in a fringe, and in that way we kinda look similar. But he's got blue eyes, so that's probably where the similarities end.
I look down at the paper and write my reply.
nice to meet you too, phil. this class kinda sucks, doesn't it?
As I put the paper on his desk, gently, I turn to look at him. He grins at me, before picking the paper up and reading it. His eyes lit up.
And that's how our friendship started.
----
I wouldn't call myself mute. I do talk, just very rarely. I don't like to. I normally don't think about the reasons behind it, but it's been on my mind lately.
With our friendship, Phil talks, and I (mainly) write down my responses on paper. He doesn't mind it, thank god, but I know he's concerned.
He tries to get me to talk more, but I don't know. It doesn't work that much, but sometimes, when I do talk, it's normally because I want to make him happy.
Although he doesn't show it, I'm probably a burden to him. One day, he's going to get tired of talking for me, and just talking to me. And then he'll leave, and the thought scares me.
I don't want him to leave. He's one of the nicest people I've ever met. (Though, I do believe he doesn't have much competition.)
But I didn't want to get him excited and have him thinking I'll totally start talking a normal amount. So, I practice at home.
I start with small things. Like, asking my mom to pass the salt. But I always feel so nervous, and it ends up sounding like a quiet whisper. I'm not sure how well I'll be able to do this.
And I hate the fact that my parents picked up on my attempts to speak more. Their eyes have a certain joy to them now, and I'd hate to have to take it away.
I try harder.
-----
"So, I mean, it really wasn't my fault, you know?" Phil rambles on. Since I don't talk much, I'm more of an observer, and it's fun watching him. He's really expressive, in ways I don't think I'll ever achieve.
