That's all that people are, to me. Different sounds. Different voices, different laughter, different footsteps. No two people sound exactly the same.
When all you had were sounds, you needed to find someone who could help you with the more difficult things in life. Basically, things that require functioning eyes.
That's where Ashton enters my story. He was my eyes, since mine obviously didn't fulfill their intended purpose. He was my best friend, and his voice and laughter were probably my second favourite of them all.
My most favourite, now that... That's a different story.
That voice was my favourite by a landslide. I could sit and listen to them talk and laugh all day. Unfortunately, I only got to hear it in person every Thursday morning, during my weekly coffee shop run with Ashton, and that was about it.
His voice was as rich as the coffee he made, as sweet as the whipped cream that topped it.
To me, he was a wonderful sound, something I could listen to for ages and never get bored of. To him, I was probably just another customer. A customer with dark glasses even on cloudy days and no voice to associate with.
I do have a voice, actually, but I've never said a word in front of him. I've asked Ashton to talk to him, to make him laugh, and he did so, but never once had I talked to him myself.
Ashton told me his name was Calum. I liked that name. I had never met anyone that name, which made him even more unique to me.
But uniqueness will only go so far. He probably doesn't even notice me. He most likely had his own favourite voice, a voice with a pair of working eyes and a lot more interesting life. He was probably what they call "straight".
Ashton had explained that whole concept to me, but obviously I didn't see the importance of it. People were not body parts to me; people were sounds. I didn't care about the clothes they wear or the colour of their eyes. I cared about their voice and the way they expressed themselves with it. I wasn't interested in rude people or people who talked too loud, which, in my opinion, was a lot more important than the way someone dresses or what body parts they had.
But maybe that's just me.
Currently, I was sitting in Ashton's car, silently listening to the music playing as he sang while he drove.
"You okay, mate?" he asked me, putting an abrupt halt to his singing.
I nodded, turning my head in his general direction. "Yeah," I answered, pushing my sunglasses back up my nose. "Just thinking."
"About Calum?" he teased.
I felt my cheeks grow warm and turned my head away from him. "Maybe."
He laughed, the sound filling the car and making me smile. "You're predictable."
"I don't have much else to think about," I pointed out.
He made a noise of agreement. "I guess you're right."
I smiled, more for myself than for anyone else. "Are we almost there?"
"You ask that every day!" he giggled. "Yes, another minute or so. You're always so eager. Are you ever going to talk to him? I swear to god, if you tell me another stupid joke to tell him, I'm scared he might shoot me."
"He wouldn't..." I mumbled. "Would he?"
"No, not literally," Ashton answered sheepishly. "He's too caught up in staring at you."
"That's not true," I muttered.
"I'm not lying! He can't ever take his eyes off of you."
"He's probably just wondering how someone can be so... Strange."