Silence

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It had been a few days, trying to keep things at a calm distance. It wasn't exactly healing, nor did the days apart act as clarification, but it did allow it not to be at the front of the mind at all times. 

Now, with the sun barely shining in through the window, the clouds too thick for the sun to break through, they were lying on the ground and staring at the dust particles illuminated by the gray sunlight. 

Charlie was on this fuzzy rug that barely covered the hardwood floor of the bedroom. It was blue, the same color as the walls, except maybe a shade lighter from the sunlight. Charlie didn't particularly like the color blue, but it did help to fall asleep at night; it wasn't some unsettling color in the night like orange or red or yellow.

Jordan was lying on the hardwood floor, the cool floor and the pain in the back stopping any ideas of acting out, worried that anything could cause an upset for Charlie. 

This lack of communication just exhausted everything. Words pounded at Jordan's teeth, but because of this revelation, the cautious heart and mind were screaming "no!" thus leaving the room filled with silence.

After a while, Jordan grew used to such a silence. Instead of viewing it as a daunting force that was choking off communication, Jordan tried to view it like cleaning the thickened air, making the room empty instead of full.

What helped was Charlie's eyes were closed, and Jordan couldn't help but smile. For such a high-strung person, it was nice to see Charlie relaxed.

Jordan took a deep breath, and for the first time since Jordan has been there - for almost an hour now - Charlie noticed. Charlie had never heard Jordan be so silent, and as soft as it was it was loud. Something was different, it was in the air, it was in the gray light from the window, it was in the shadows in the bedroom. 

Charlie pushed up off the floor, sat cross legged, hands becoming occupied with grabbing at the stringy blue fabric of the rug. Charlie began to play with the tassels and messing with the threads, keeping busy. 

Charlie could feel the gaze, and that brought a blush. Sighing, Charlie figured that Jordan would call out some insult for the blushing, because there was no obvious reason why it was happening at all. 

Jordan didn't say anything though. Just watched as Charlie's head hung lower and lower, trying to hide the blush, but not willing to bring the hands away from the rug to cover up the rosy cheeks.

Charlie continued to fiddle with the rug, almost compulsively - anything to keep from looking up - and that caught Jordan's eye. Jordan sat up just like Charlie, and watched as Charlie's hands passed over the rug changing the rug's shades. Since the room was so quiet, Jordan could hear the swoosh of the fabrics being upturned and put back, and for a moment, Jordan could pretend they were at the ocean.

Closing eyes and leaning back, Jordan relaxed.

" . . . " 

It was only a moment, for Jordan couldn't keep the facade up long enough. They were not at the ocean. They were stuck in this "kind" and dreary little town, where everyone was as dull and tasteless as the city, where hearts were only allowed to be poured out by crimes on moving trains, and because of that they smiled bitterly and said "I love you" in the cold.

Jordan waved a hand in front of Charlie's eyes, but Charlie's attention did not sway from fiddling with the rug. Furrowing dark eyebrows, Jordan watched Charlie intently, stomach in knots. Charlie's nerves made Jordan jittery, and it was like with each pass over the rug Charlie was fraying the strings of sanity. 

After a few more minutes, Jordan put a hand over Charlie's, bringing it all to a stop. A gentle closure, an ending pure and simple, nothing to go after it. 

Charlie exhaled, fingers twitching underneath Jordan's hand.

Hyper-aware of Charlie's humming fingertips, Jordan folded their hands together, catching the jitters that were running through Charlie's hand. Their hands together were warm and electric, in a way that was both comforting and energizing, but also unnerving. 

It wasn't unnatural, but it wasn't natural either. Natural was shoves and slaps and pulls; it was telling lies with honest slurs and stumbling over hurdles they'd run a hundred times.

This was like when Charlie forged Jordan's writing - it was merely almosts. Their hands together were no slashes-for-dots 'i's and no violently crossed 't's. They were close, but it wasn't natural yet.

The fact that it was so close, though, was enough to terrify. So as soon as the air wasn't so thick, as soon as the fascination was beginning to fade, Charlie bolted down the stairs - "needed a glass of water" - and never came back up.

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