Silence in November

I\'m trying not to stare, but it's too late
The blanket's over there, if you like

"You're going to get better you know."
"Hah. Yes, and pigs will fly Mister Matthias."
"What makes you doubt they do not already do so?"
"What makes you speak like you are intelligent today, Mister Matthias?"
"What makes you answer questions with questions, Mister Vanelle?"
"Touché, Mister Matthias."

Save for the machines that were crammed into the room, everything was white. Actually, everything was disgustingly white. Even the pictures on the walls were white- no, actually that would be exaggerating. There were no pictures, but the windows could've been if those damn clouds didn't move any time soon.
The sounds of the room consisted of the breathing of the occupant and the small beeps and whirr noises that manifested themselves from the machines (or what he'd like to think of as the machines, he'd never been partial to insects). Even in this bleak hospital bed he still managed to look his best, the recently-dyed brown hair cascaded onto his face hiding and showing off his black-grey eyes at the same time. His pale, angular face tilted up to rest against the propped up bed; the tufts of hair that lingered on the back of his head had chosen to settle along the side of the white pillow. Even though the boy was full of color, he still seemed to blend into the white of the room.

I'm broken and I'm colder than hell
I should've said I'd not come back here

He was half-afraid to come back to the place where the only colors that existed were white, blue, and red. He was only afraid because he didn't know what he would find there, if he found anything at all. For what's more, he was messy (not that he was ever not messy, but that was besides the obvious). His thoughts had been scattered everywhere and his feet had brought him here at the door of the room where the only thing that kept him from breaking down and crying his heart out was his bitter sense of pride.
"Excuse me sir."
He ignored the voice, too consumed in his own thoughts to reply; his hazel eyes seemed clouded with suppressed tears and a deep undeniable anger. Or bitter contempt, or teen angst, perhaps. Whatever and whichever it was, it was still there. And god damn it was thriving.
"Excuse me sir?"
"What?" Matthias replied, with a little more anger in his voice than he had meant to put out.
"I need you to move, Mister Vanelle needs to eat." The woman replied her eyebrows arched as the golden frames of her glasses slid down her nose to cover he surprise. The thinning hairline and gray roots showed the trouble of the job she had chosen and the stress it had caused.

Your breakfast will get cold
I really have to go

"Excuse him, Mrs. Bennett." A calm voice replied as the door slid open slightly, the strained small face of the boy peered at the two (looking up at Matthias and then looking down at Mrs. Bennett). "His brain holds no capacity for manners."
"Mister Vanelle! You shouldn't be up. Back to bed with you now," Mrs. Bennett exclaimed, carrying the tray of food with one hand and shooing the fleeting boy with the other.
"But-"
"No "˜butt's unless it's yours and in bed." Mrs. Bennett said, shaking her head and pulled the covers over the reluctant boy.
Matthias watched with a grin slowly spreading on his face before he walked towards the bed, the only sound that was coming from his direction was that of his shoes hitting the ground slowly, the heels clicking as they met the white tiles.
"What are you grinning about?" Vanelle snapped; his nose crinkling as he sent a weak glare in the other boy's direction.
"Oh nothing, of course." Matthias replied airily, half rolling his eyes and half not. "My brain doesn't have the capacity to tell you, does it?"
"Touché, Mister Matthias." Vanelle smirked, waving lightly to the retreating nurse before putting the tray of food on a nightstand, "Touché."

It's easier to lie and be safe
Time and time again I'm half stalled

It was getting late, but the two had lost track of time as they dissolved what was left of their minds into the florescent lights of the television screen. The talk show host's voice boomed from the small speakers that the television had fitted into its sides. The newly-dyed brunette had his head against the raven-haired boy's shoulders, his eyes half-lidded and his fingertips at the edge of his jaw line, tracing it seeing as it was his habit.
The television flickered lightly as the channel was changed by the little remote that was held in Matthias' hand.
"There's nothing good on." Matthias said bluntly, brushing tendrils away from his face before resting his cheek on the back of his hand.
"You're ever the realist." Vanelle replied sleepily.
"I am, actually, very much so." Matthias said back, nodding his head slightly and made a small "˜oh' noise. "Look, a scary movie."

One giant leap of faith is easy
When everyone you ask is so sure

"WHAT THE HELL, TURN IT OFF." Vanelle screamed, covering his eyes with his left hand as he pulled the blanket over his head with his other hand. Matthias, on the other hand, was laughing his bum off (but his bum was very much attached, it's just a figure of speech). "Why are you laughing?"
"Why are you screaming?"
"Because your body isn't SUPPOSED TO TWIST LIKE THAT," Vanelle squealed, ducking underneath the covers once again before resurfacing so his head peeked from the edge of white sheets.
"Well, you just haven't tried hard enough, Mister Vanelle."
"WHAT THE HELL?"

Just give it second thought
What if we don't get caught?

"I'm not going to sleep tonight." Vanelle said, not just for the sake of saying something, but more for the sake of hearing his own voice without screaming.
"Of course you're not." Matthias replied placidly flipping through the channels once again. He rested his other hand atop the other boy's head, petting him as though he was a cat.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Vanelle interjected, brow arching slowly on his forehead before retracting into his hairline and floating back down to its original position.
"Oh, it's nothing."

Just say you love me now
And forget this whole row
Just save your energy
For making up with me


The rain hit against the window of the hospital room slowly as the gray cut through the white and opened a funnel to the tears of heaven, and oh how sad the heavens were today. The dilapidated hospital shook with every roar of thunder, all of the doctors shuddered with every flash of lightening. The ambulance sang their haunting melodies outside of the building, with each song more screams of terror and cries for help sounded. The noises bounced off the cobblestone pathway towards the brick of the hospital. The sounds traveled up the building, scaling walls as though it was a Spiderman clone and began up the drains where they mixed with rain and began to drown in the combination of hydrogen and oxygen.
The doctors and nurses scurried in and out like ants in an anthill that were carrying people on carriers like food to the queen. They each tried to make themselves by taking the biggest pain but disguised it as concern. The thunder boomed again and after fifteen seconds lightening followed again.
Two figures sprawled on the bed meant for only one, their distinct eyes closed so they looked peacefully asleep or dead. Their chests moved in sync with one another as to inhale each other's recycled air. Warmth covered the room and fought with the consistent cold air that pumped into the room, and soon warmth conquered.
Brunette hair sprawled across the broad chest of the older boy, the white sheet balled up in his fist as he shifted slightly, one black-grey eye opening to greet the sight of a white wall appearing to flash blue and green from the brightening emptiness of it all. He muttered something, shifting and buried his head in Matthias' shoulder before pausing and tilting his head while counting to three slowly.
"Matt?" He said softly; his voice was slightly raspy from screaming half the afternoon away. "Mister Matthias?"
Matthias didn't move, he groaned a little bit for a while and fell silent instead.
"Matt?" Vanelle whispered again, leaning up a bit so he was closer to his ear, this meant he didn't have to say anything loudly anymore and that he knew he still had some motor skills intact.
Matthias continued to remain sleeping, his eyelids fluttering in the REM daze.
"Matthias," Vanelle called in a singsong voice, "Matthias Anthony Burke."
Even this didn't make the boy shift any, and left Vanelle making a frustrated noise (which composed of a squeal and a whine at the same time).
"MATT, I CAN'T FEEL MY ARM." Vanelle yelled in his ear.
Matthias sat upright, his hazel eyes wide enough that you could see the yellow at the edges. The back of his hair stood on end from where he had been laying down. Vanelle, fixated below him, shifted his arm away from the warm space that Matthias' back was at and smiled smugly to himself. He shifted to move his wrist and checked the pulse as if he hadn't had an arm in centuries.
"I think I'm deaf." Matthias announced, bluntly. He blinked a few times before turning and pulling the covers over this own arms to try to control the gooseflesh that was appearing now.
"Really; because I never would have guessed." Vanelle smirked, reaching over to grab the remote from the side table and flicked on the TV.
"What'd you say?" Matthias questioned, arching his brow and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "I'm deaf, and I guess you are too."
Vanelle made a simple "˜mm' sound from his throat and bat his eyelashes lightly, turning towards the side table again and grabbed the now-stale piece of bread from the plastic tray and stuffed a piece in Matthias' mouth and sat back, humming lightly, and began flipping through the channels again.