Speechless

The park was empty at the current time. Usually kids would be hanging around and making such ruckus that Raven's father felt the obligation to run outside and bribe the kids with candy so they could leave his family in peace. Raven always thought he exaggerated too much. Now whenever they wanted candy they'll just come back and make more noise so that her father would repeat the gesture. Honestly. Didn't he ever learn?

Raven stared out the window to her bedroom, thinking all kinds of things. Whenever there was enough silence to think, her mind was engulfed in every single thought that had ever swept its way through her mind; it was sometimes a wonderful experience to dig up things that she'd forgotten for weeks. Other times it was troubling because there were also sad thoughts within them. This time there was a little bit of both. She couldn't say them out loud to her therapist, so she kept them to herself. Now really wasn't the time to pointlessly describe them on paper. If she was truly a therapist, all she had to do was hypnotize her and get the information herself.

However, even with a certificate, the therapist could not do what only one person in the entire world was able to do ever since Raven was an infant and they learned she could not speak: know what was bothering her exactly when it was bothering her. Only her sister had such an uncanny ability. Oh, her wonderful sister, a true beauty, inside and out. Right now she should be at her recital. The rest of the family─her father, her brother, and her mother─were there too. She would have also been there, but she thought they wouldn't miss her this time.

Raven pressed her pale palms against the glass of her window and stared at it blankly. She continued to do this for various of seconds, reminded of fish gills by the skin at the space between her fingers, how they stretched when she spread them across the glass.

“Raven,” she heard a soft female voice say behind her.

Raven turned her head to look at her therapist. She was a woman in her middle ages with thick rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of her pink nose. Her faded blonde hair was a slightly messy ponytail, leaving most of her front hair to hover over her pale blue eyes. She had puffy pink cheeks, and a thin smile that was always sweet. The only thing she didn't like about the therapist was that she wasn't warm; she didn't radiate genuine care anywhere from her body. She was just...a stranger.

The therapist was getting her things together, preparing to leave.

“Raven,” she said again, brushing her front hair away from her eyes, “is there anything else you need?”

Raven shook her head immediately.

“Are you sure?” the therapist asked again, staring at her searchingly.

Raven hesitated, blinking away from her cold gaze. She nodded and turned back to the window, glad to not have to look at her anymore. She didn't quite enjoy being looked at as if she had something to hide; as if there was something to find if they searched more. It made her feel defenseless.

There was a slightly audible click when the door closed as the therapist stepped out of the room. She looked back at the door to see if it wasn't just her opening the door and was relieved to find that she finally did leave. The walls around her suddenly collapsed, leaving behind what one would find if she wasn't on her guard as she was a second before: herself.

She turned back to the window just as she felt soft fur caress her bare skin. She looked down to see a ball of black fur on the window sill next to her. The ball uncurled, revealing the ears and paws that hid within; a pair of green ovals stared out at her as the cat opened her eyes, releasing a loud meow that ricochet from the glass window and back.

Raven picked up the black cat from the window sill, placing it on her lap. She cupped its ears with her hands, and ran her hands down its back, stroking its soft fur. She started to scratch behind her ears, earning a low and happy purr in return. She smiled down at the cat as it blinked slowly, staring up at her.

Something stopped her hands in mid-stroke, frozen on both sides of the cat's head. The cat continued to purr happily, rubbing the side of its face against her palms greedily, asking for more attention and care. Her hands began to move again at this, scratching behind her ears gently. The cat's eyelids closed, hiding the emerald green that hid behind them.

The green that reminded her of that boy named Alphonse.

A song was playing at Fallen Harp. It was an extraordinary piece of music, one many have learned to play and even less have mastered. It was evident that the song playing throughout the store─filling the ears of the customers in the first floor and echoing off the corners of the store─was mastered. Perfectly, at that. Without even a glance at who was playing it, anyone who was listening would have immediately assumed it was a full grown man with lots of experience at playing the cello. If this ever was assumed and even believed to be true among the listeners of the store...

They would be wrong.

Alphonse sat next to Fallen Harp's store clerk, leaning forward intently. He was transfixed in the music playing before him. He didn't think he'd ever heard this song before. Even if he had, he was sure he wouldn't even be able to recognize it now. This time it was different, he was sure. It was more than just mastered, as the store clerk had said before his courteous insistence of Claude's playing. He knew that Claude hadn't just mastered that song. He taken the song into his grasp and created a mixture of sounds and emotions that were all made into his own. It made him shiver to know that he was living under the same roof as such a prodigy.

How the hell am I supposed to feel when I look at him now?

“Wonderful!” a voice beside him erupted.

Alphonse almost jumped out of his own skin. He had been so deep into his own thoughts that he had forgotten the existence of that whom his thoughts had been so transfixed on.

The store clerk was clapping enthusiastically, having enjoyed greatly Claude's performance. He wiped at his eyes and clapped for Claude, smiling with so much evident pride that Alphonse could feel his stomach twist a little.

Not this again, he thought, watching quietly as Claude bowed before them, smiling with a bit of shyness. Why should I feel jealous every time he does something good? It's not fair.

Claude caught him watching and smiled, more openly. He left the cello to stand against the chair he was sitting on and approached Alphonse excitedly, looking at him with the warmth he knew Claude had for him since he was born. He exhaled once, standing three inches away from him.

“So,” he began, not being able to hold himself back from smiling so warmly at him. “What did you think?”

It's not fair for either of us.

Alphonse shrugged nonchalantly, looking up at the wall where all sorts of instruments were lined up for sale.

“It was cool,” he said, and then cleared his throat, trying to come up with a more convincing tone of a voice. “It was...very cool.” He allowed himself to smile just once at his brother. He'd have to figure out the whole sibling rivalry later.

Claude's smile widened, satisfied with just that. “So are you ready to pick out your instrument?” he asked him.

Alphonse nodded quickly. He'd been waiting for this ever since he got home from school. It was time to pick the instrument he'd use to win his way to his parents' and a certain mute girl's heart.

“Well,” the store clerk began as he showed the violins to the boys, “violins are on a high demand at our store lately, so we only have our finest violins here in this display box for now until we get to an agreement with our supplier.”

I could imagine, Alphonse thought with a grin, gently caressing the glass separating him and the collection of violins inside the glass box.

“What about that one?” Claude asked, pointing to one.

Alphonse looked at it, expecting a graceful aura to radiate from it, like Raven's violin. He saw no such thing. It was a regular violin; a light brown, its strings sturdy and fine. He shook his head immediately and continued to look, telling himself he wouldn't be satisfied until he saw a violin that captured his whole gaze on sight.

“How about that one?”

“How's that one sound?”

“This one's pretty cool...”

“Do you like this one?”

“Okay, okay. This one looks stunning, don't you think?”

It went like this for a while. Back and forth, they would exchange words as to whether or not it was the right violin. They all turned out to...well, not be it. Anything Claude pointed to with excitement Alphonse would say no to immediately. There wasn't anything so far that Claude could find that could even peek at Alphonse's interest. Every single time it was “No!” or “Pfft!”

“Come on, Al,” Claude complained, looking very tired by now, and pointed at a black violin below him. “This one's awesome.”

Alphonse looked at it. It certainly was. Its smooth texture was a stunningly black color, and light reflected off of it, making it look incredibly shiny. It looked brand new, and very, very expensive. The kind someone with thousands in his pocket could buy. It was the perfect violin for anyone who was into that sort of thing, all expensive gifts and fine jewelry. But he wasn't, and he was pretty sure neither was Raven. Her violin may have had the same radiance with its amazingly smooth and black texture, but it was different. It had the grace of a thousand swans, and its strings released wonderful music that made one fall back into a million of pillows of deep peace. The violin Claude was pointing at could only make one fall asleep on one pillow.

“No,” Alphonse said firmly, already looking for another one.

“Alphonse,” Claude insisted, at the edge of losing his patience. “Any good violinist can make wonderful music out of any violin.”

I wish I could believe you.

“So how about you stop this nonsense and─”

Claude's voice cut off abruptly as he made contact with Alphonse's back. Alphonse had stopped abruptly, standing as rigid as a stick. He blinked, startled, and leaned to look at his face.

“Al? What's wrong?” he asked, concerning seeping into the tone of his voice. He grabbed his shoulder, trying to turn him around to get a better look at his face. “Al? Alphonse. Alphonse!”

Alphonse pushed his hands away roughly, snapping back to life.

“Don't touch me!” he ordered, looking at him defensively.

Claude blinked at him.

“Nothing's wrong,” he continued, stepping aside. “I found my violin.” He turned his head back to look at the instrument he spoke of, his eyes glazing over with adoration.

Claude would have continued to stare at him as if he was crazy, but something caught his eye. He approached the glass box, his blue eyes immediately searching for the violin Alphonse spoke of. He continued to look past it, thinking it was something more fancy-looking than what Alphonse was really talking about.

“Where is it? Which one?”

Alphonse rolled his eyes. He grabbed Claude by the back of his neck, making his brother's shoulders hunch up greatly, and made him turn towards the spot where the violin lay.

“That one.”

Again, his gaze continued to travel past it, to the other violins, until a golden twinkle caught his blue eyes' attention. He looked back to where he thought the gleam and felt himself tense up in surprise. It was indeed the violin Alphonse was talking about, but he hadn't expected such an ordinary-looking thing. It didn't even compare to the other violins Claude had repeatedly tried to get his attention on, and yet this thing had done it without even trying?

Is he mentally challenged or something?

His face scrunched up in severe confusion.

The store clerk had come back, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“So. Have you found what you're looking for?” he asked.

Claude shrugged off Alphonse's hands, turning to look at him with an odd expression.

“That one?” he said.

“That one.”