Target of Far Away Laughter

[∴ Anthony]

Anthony sat. He sat and listened, sat and read, sat and smelled the smell of books. Sat, and tasted the the mint in his mouth as it slowly dissolved. Sat and smiled, turned pages, glanced around the room, tapped his feet, and more, but he did not sit and talk.

Sitting and talking was the pass-time of the normal people, if anyone in the Academy could be said to be normal. It was what the popular, beautiful girls did instead of reading. It was what the big, confident boys did when they thought the staff weren't paying attention. It was even what the bookish, intelligent types did, quietly; comparing notes and sharing information with their friends.

Anthony was not popular. He was not beautiful, or so he was frequently told by the other students. He was neither big nor confident, and although he could be said to be bookish and intelligent, unlike the others of that ilk, he did not have friends. But most of all, he did not talk.

Anthony was mute, that much was obvious if one bothered to try and hold a conversation with him, but as to why he was that way, one would reach a dead end trying to pursue the subject, if only because he simply didn't talk about it. On top of this, he didn't bother to try to sign things out, for he could indeed speak sign language, nor did he write them down, though he could indeed write. Some might say being mute was a blessing for the boy, because it seemed he simply did not wish to communicate.

Some would probably be right.

Normally people found this reason enough to leave him to his own devices, but today, for some reason, as his eyes wandered around the room, he found that someone was staring at him. Initially his sweeping gaze passed this person right by, but he did a double-take and looked back, finding that no, he hadn't been imagining things; someone was staring at him. Not an entirely novel concept; he was eternally being prosecuted as 'weird', but there seemed perhaps something different about this time. He was usually either torn into right away or simply left alone, this was just unusual.

Instead of breaking eye-contact as most people would, Anthony proceeded to stare down the other person, his book going momentarily ignored. He was curious, and he wasn't about to simply give it up. After all, they had been the one staring at him first, what reason did he have to be embarrassed about it?

_{ooc; i suppose the easiest way to jump in would be to take the place of the starer, but i'm far from limiting you to that}

[Jared Howard.]

Jared didn't like to think of it as a mistake, thinking of himself as Jared. The act could have suggested remorse, which wasn't something he wanted to consider at all, or the desire to return to being himself, which wasn't at all possible. But, as grammatically incorrect as it was, he did like to acknowledge himself by his birth name when it was just him and no one else. He could say that he missed it, being Jared; Jared was the eldest brother in a big, loving family, though estranged, and he didn't have any doubt that if he went back, they'd accept him with open arms. There were other realizations too, like just how much he wanted to, but he wouldn't concede to those for fear of something greater.

He was in the library today, under some guise or another, although his best one was the truth; he was the older brother of a current student, an ex-student himself, just visiting the Academy. Jared didn't know what he would find, or if he was even looking for anything. He was seeking quiet again, and that was only when he was feeling the most terrible at himself.

Even though he was after silence, the library still reverberated with small and consistent chatter. It was little enough so as not to attract the librarian or aide's attentions, but just loud enough that he was aware of mostly every single student on the floor. It didn't grate his nerves, not exactly, but it did give him something to glower at. Of course, he was a Howard, no matter how hard he tried to forget that he was, and so his angry face, though intense, looked more contemplative and stylized than unpleasant.

He returned Pygmalion to the shelf, and in a simple, cursory human act, his sweeping gaze got caught on a dark, unseemly boy. He was unlike all the others on the floor, almost mute judging by the level of noise emitting from him. Jared was questioning as he looked at the boy, shifting so he could lean on the bookshelf. He was trying to discern something, or maybe he was just caught up in his own thoughts, but he had never expected himself to stare so blatantly or for so long; if he had been anybody else, his own brother, he would have been worried. The boy surprised him too, looking up and meeting his stare, and Jared was unable to look away.

Unconsciously, a small quirk of a grin formed at the corner of his lips, almost admiring in its quality, and he pushed away from his post to head toward the kid.
"You're not shy, are you?" he asked him, smiling more fully now.

[∴ Anthony]

^[♥]

Anthony was not expecting to be approached. He was sort of expecting the guy to suddenly snap out of a daydream, shake his head, and look away. Maybe even try to intimidate Anthony first out of embarrassment, by the look of him. He didn't seem the type that would like being caught daydreaming. Not a 'jock', per se, but...

But that wasn't the case. Anthony ended up being approached whether he saw it coming or not; the guy was walking right toward him. Not just wandering aimlessly, not just pointed in his general direction, walking right at him, with definite purpose in his movements. He was grinning, too, but that was a gesture Anthony found to be far too ambiguous to really be useful. It could be playful, it could be scathing, it could be downright murderous. Still, Anthony didn't move a muscle as he was approached, other than to continue to meet the guy's eyes as he closed in, and to flick his mint to the other side of his mouth with his tongue, enjoying the renewed flavour.

He was further surprised by the simple smile and the question. It wasn't the most unpleasant thing he'd heard, not by far, but it did have sort of a demeaning feel to it, for whatever reason. It was the sound of a guy talking to a younger guy, something he supposed was justified, but he didn't like how people assumed greater age meant superiority. Then again, he knew he could be totally off-base with it.

Do I seem shy to you?

He shrugged, and the small little shrug-frown that so often accompanied shrugs was there as well, but his expression was mostly blank, as if he really didn't know whether or not he was shy. His eyes, though, never having left the other's, answered the question pretty well for him; if he was shy, the sky was underfoot.

And although he didn't communicate further in any sense of the word, he didn't simply dismiss the foreign presence, either. His book, clearly still open and clearly the subject of his attention until just recently, remained ignored, and his gaze was mostly blank, yes, but it was thusly not bored or dismissive, either. It seemed that he was, for whatever reason, interested in this whole exchange. Maybe he simply wanted to know whether or not his suspicions about this stranger were correct. There was a good possibility he was just bored, too.

Hell, maybe he was actually lonely.