B.U. | Grizz Visser (The Society)

peter pan

part two.

One foot in front of the other. This phrase repeated in Grizz's mind as he made his way out of his residency and toward the centre of campus; head hanging low, shoulders slightly hunched, fingers entwined in the front pocket of his hoodie. He didn't have a destination; he didn't particularly need one. This was his new home, and he would have to explore it on his own terms. He mentally kicked himself for not bringing along a pair of headphones. He wished he could relax and listen to music, wander on his own for hours and avoid the awkward first-time interactions. Everyone on campus now would be looking for friends, putting up a fake front, acting like someone they weren't. Grizz wasn't exactly interested in falling into that sort of crowd... So he wouldn't.

He approached the campus library, shelves upon shelves of characters he could deem "friends". It wasn't exactly a perfect scenario, but he didn't need it to be. He wanted something real, and this was as real as he'd ever experienced. Who's to say the lively pages of a book aren't real?His index finger trailed the spines of dozens of novels as he navigated the isles, his breathing slowing and his smile growing. He couldn't help but admit contentment with his choices."Grizz?" A small and reluctant voice echoed through the shelves, causing Grizz's heart to practically skip a beat. He exhaled as he turned around, softening his sudden startled expression into one of surprise.

"Becca?" Grizz asked, his eyes widening. He stared just across the isle at the girl, who, standing at over a foot shorter than him, looked both excited and pleased. He hadn't seen her in months, since graduation, in fact. Her dark mop of pencil-straight, dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, and her skin was glowing, like she'd just been on a very fancy vacation to the Bahamas or Hawaii.

"So this is where you disappeared to," she exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest. She stepped closer to Grizz, their height difference becoming more and more noticeable with every step. She must've been hardly pushing 5'1. "Everyone said you just dropped off the face of the Earth."

"Yeah," Grizz replied with a deep chuckle, his cheeks flushing, "I guess I did." Reaching one hand up to his neck, Grizz held his fingertips over the back of his hairline, pulling at the roots and awaiting the sweat to collect on his palms.

"Well," Becca continued, "how've you been?"

"Busy, really busy," he replied, flashing a brief smile. He didn't mean to be weird. He didn't want to be. As a deep breath expanded his chest cavity, Grizz felt his confidence swell and his smile grow wider, "I'm excited to start school, though. I just moved in today. What's your major?"As his mood lifted, Becca's did, too. She noticeably perked up, standing taller and speaking louder than before.

"Undecided," she replied, keeping her head on a swivel. She searched the isles for something, or someone. Perhaps she'd lost a friend in the library? "You?" She asked in return.

"Same here," he replied, "I have a few classes I'm excited for though, like I'm tak-" Grizz began to explain, cut off by Becca's hand flying up in front of her, waving at someone behind him. Grizz turned his head and his eyes trailed a boy walking toward the two of them. This boy was shorter than him, with red hair and bright blue eyes. He reminded Grizz of a ginger Peter Pan.

"Grizz, this is Sam," she introduced, pointing toward the boy who planted his feet right beside hers. She turned toward him and held her arms out in front of his chest, moving them in what Grizz identified as sign language. He was actually quite curious about it, having taken the language as an elective in the following term of school.

"Hello," Sam spoke softly, signing along with his words. He smiled up at Grizz, who, in response, could only stifle a nod of his head.

He'd never spoken to anyone in sign language before, and he didn't know where to begin, or how to begin, for that matter. The only phrase in sign language he knew was "bullshit," which he didn't think was particularly appropriate for the current conversation.

"We were actually about to grab a coffee," Becca explained to Grizz, signing along with her words for Sam's convenience, "you want to come?"

After a moment of contemplating whether coffee or sitting alone in his room with nothing to do would be better, Grizz decided on the former.

"Yeah, sure," he replied, his eyes darting between Sam and Becca's, unsure of where to look. Realizing that his hand had been glued to his neck for probably an unreasonably long amount of time, Grizz quickly shoved his fists back into the large pocket of his hoodie and followed behind Sam and Becca toward the exit.

Once the three had found a table in the coffee shop, Becca stood to her feet, making her way to the counter to order them all drinks.

"How do you know Becca?" Sam asked in his familiar quiet tone, leaning forward, his weight on his elbows on the solid oak table.

Grizz opened his mouth to speak, his eyes moving from Sam to the table, to his hands, back to Sam, and so forth.

"I can read lips," Sam explained.

Relief washed over Grizz like a hot morning shower, relieving all of the stress in the world and boosting his overall confidence immensely.

"We went to school together," he explained, leaning back in his chair, allowing his body to sink into the seat.

"In West Ham?"

"Yeah."

"Great place!" Sam exclaimed with a raise of his brows and a light chuckle.

Grizz picked up on his sarcasm right away. "The greatest," he replied with a grin, "what about you?"

"I met her when I was five," Sam explained, "family friends. I didn't see much of her until this summer."

"Did you teach her sign language?"

"I did," Sam replied with a wide, triumphant smile, "it helps me out a lot."

Grizz took a moment to frame this image in his mind. Sam's soft, bright smile was contagious. The corners of Grizz's lips turned upwards, almost like a reflex. It was in this moment that Grizz decided he wanted to spend more time with Sam; try and understand what goes on in the mind of someone who doesn't hear a constant background noise. He wondered if it held a twisted sort of peacefulness, an easy method of excusing himself from the harsh activity of carrying a conversation. Maybe, he thought, it was quiet enough in Sam's mind that he could hear himself think.

"Three iced coffees," Becca returned to the table, placing her tray on the oak and taking her seat alongside Sam.