Sinking

faded

I'd stopped because me speaking had been what had caused the worst day of my life, six years ago. Me, saying one sentence, had been what had ruined my life, and multiple others lives. I didn't want to hurt anyone else, so I kept my lips sealed whenever another human was near me.

"Do you sign?" He questioned next, and I nodded, before he skipped out to stand in front of me. Me too, He signed, and I couldn't help the corner of my mouth that turned up the slighest bit.

Why don't you speak? He signed, continuing to walk backwards as we both were nearing the last block of the way to school.

I just don't, I replied, shrugging once more. I wasn't going to tell him the truth. There might have been something special about Phil, but this was the first time we were communicating since I helped him three years ago.

He gave up on signing, returning to his spot on the pavement beside me. "I sign because my brother is deaf. Lost his hearing in an accident when we were little. I've always found sign language incredibly interesting."

I nodded, slightly glad to have learned something about the mystery known as Phil Lester. He's been in an accident before. Worse than the one I had six years ago?

"I don't really like talking, either," He continued, clear voice piercing the silent air around us, "But sometimes I just babble on and on and I can't really help it. I like talking in my sketches, you know?"

I know, I signed, I'm like that with painting.

"Your paintings are amazing," He replied, a hint of awe present in his voice. "I've only ever seen the ones you do at school, but I'm guessing you have many more at home."

I do. I just have one question. Nerves were eating away at me as he nodded for me to ask the one question that had been bugging me since the start of our conversation. Why are you only talking to me now?

He shrugged, actually looking sheepish as he shoved his hands into his jeans and grinned at me. "I don't know. You always seemed so... against the world. Quiet, fragile; I felt like I didn't want to bother you."

I looked away from him, instead focusing on the pavement in front of my feet, my thoughts suddenly clouded with his words. Did I really seem like that? Like I was against the world? I didn't mean to be. I loved the world, I loved the clouds and the stars and the trees and the sky and the sun and the moon. I was only against talking to people that didn't want to talk to me. No one ever wanted to talk to me, though, and the fact that this boy, this amazing Phil, was making an effort to; it was insane.

No one talks to me, I signed tiredly, so I don't talk to them.

He nodded, as if he understood.

***

That night, I heard Adrian making noise around the house as I worked on my painting of the boy in the rain. The day had been uneventful, consisting of me ignoring people and paper thrown at me, and an art class filled with Phil once again drawing the anonymous boy in his sketchbook. He didn't say anything else to me, but we walked home together. It had brightened my mood.

Mom was out; I didn't know where to. Part of me was hoping it was to look for a job, but I doubted that she was doing anything besides either drinking or hooking up with someone. I'd have to look for a job this weekend.

I felt as though I couldn't focus on my art tonight. It was increasingly annoying, my mind never sharpening to where my hands mended with the paint, instead, my brain pounded as I dragged the brush across my canvas.

I stopped after five minutes, knowing that if I continued any longer I would mess it up somehow. The corner I'd begun already looked wrong, but I knew I would be able to fix it once I exited this slump. Wearily, I carried the easel over to the corner and leaned my elbows onto the windowsill. I shut my eyes, cracking the screen open slightly, breathing in the night air. It was two in the morning at the moment, but today was Saturday so I could finally catch up on all the sleep I'd missed this week.

My eyes opened as a cricket chirped from a bush beneath me. My gaze lifted upward when I saw motion in the window across the way: Phil's bedroom window. The light was on, and I could see his silhouette through the blinds.

Soon enough, the blinds opened. I felt frozen; a big part of me wanted to close my window and shut the light off, then get into bed and stare at the ceiling until I managed to fall asleep. But I stayed still, watching as the image of the boy across the way appeared behind the glass.

He had glasses on, I noticed with surprise. Phil had never once worn glasses to school, which I found strange considering he looked extremely nice in them.

He looked at me then, and I stilled like a deer in headlights, trapped in his gaze. And then he smiled, and I let out a sigh, my shoulders relaxing as my elbows dug into the edge of the window.

Hey, stranger, He signed, and a small smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

I waved. Can you open your window?

Phil shook his head, grimacing slightly. I'm not allowed.

I furrowed my eyebrows, confused, but I decided not to press it any further. I remembered the stain I'd seen on his jaw just yesterday. Was Phil really happy with his life?

Are you painting? He signed, smiling at me once again, thoughts from a moment ago wiped away as even in the darkness, his smile was bright.

I was, I shrugged, I'm feeling out of it tonight.

I understand, he replied. Hey... He hesitated, and I motioned for him to continue. You know this morning, when you asked why I was just now talking to you?

I nodded.

You're interesting, He explained. I heard you singing last night. I blanched before he continued. You have one absolutely beautiful voice.

My cheeks quickly went from their pale white to a deep blush, a realization hitting me, hard.

Phil Lester was the first person to hear my voice in six years.

So he'd heard me. I'd been loud enough through the slight crack in my old window for him to listen through his wall and hear my hoarse voice, making it's way through the darkness.

I wanted to be angry about it, but I wasn't. With my cheeks burning, I let my eyes return to where he was standing by his window. He was still smiling, albeit much more sheepishly now.

I hear my dad coming upstairs, He signed, so I have to go. Get some sleep, Dan.

I nodded. Goodnight.

And with that, his blinds shut and the light behind them was gone, enveloping our backyards into darkness.

I stared out at the stars for a moment longer, a dreamy smile forming on my face as I watched the blinking lights in the blackness.

After a minute, I settled into bed with the lights off. I found my gaze wandering out the other window, the one next to my bed.

And then a star was shooting across the horizon of black, and I couldn't clear my mind of the one thought floating across my mind.

Phil, I thought, and then my eyes were closing, and I was sinking into sleep.

_
Wow this chapter was deep
WTF THANK YOU guys for 200 reads my list was frozen for like two weeks i thought i only had 90 reads but WOW
I was actually going to say something interesting in this authors note but hey im here to disappoint once again
I watched the dan and phil crafts video with my friends and legitamately died laughing and i cried