From the outside, the world will seem like it’s almost not even there. When one can only observe, everything just disappears. Or rather, it all appears the same. And when everything, everyone, is the same, it becomes hard to care, to go on. It’s not painful, though. But only because I didn’t care enough to be hurt.

When I would go to sleep every night, I could hear all the whispers. Bouncing about the walls were murmurs of “he did what?” and “wasn’t that fun?”. “What should we do tomorrow?” or “could you just go to sleep?”. Everyone talking about everyone; everyone but me.

I’m not stupid, though. I wasn’t then either. I always knew why they didn’t want to talk to me, and it wasn’t complicated in the slightest.

Some people could do to listen more often, and others could do to speak more often. And then there are those who haven’t spoken in so long they can’t even remember the sound of their own voice.

A few days after we’d arrived at the Conservatory, Lio told me that my voice sounds like a girl’s. I like to think it’s just because at that point, I knew the sound of her voice better than my own.

We in the Program were taught to listen; listen to whatever anyone had to say. But in order to listen, someone has to say something to listen to. So, while everyone else was learning how to use their ears, I was teaching myself to use my words - because no one wants to talk to someone who doesn’t speak.

----------------------------------

As the sky rumbles and the clouds darken, the searing heat begins to lift. The horizon but just a line of deep gray, scraping against the black above.

A drop of water bounces off the back of my hand.

I look to Claire, who’s just shouting distance away. Her long, baggy pants submerged in the paddy. The water almost coming up to her knees. She raises her chin towards the sky, the rain now already beginning to come down hard. With a wave of her hand, she signals to make a run for it.

Trudging through water, and the mud beneath, I make my way towards her. Each step harder than the last, I feel the weight of the rain flowing in and out of my boots. The force pulls me back down as I try to move ahead, one step at a time. Then, I feel the mud between my toes. My bare foot sinks into the ground.

I pivot around and shove both arms into the murky water. They flail about, but find nothing. The skies roar louder now. Claire yells out from behind me.

“Just leave it! We’ll come back for it later.”

She steps back into the water, reaching out a hand.

When the house comes into view, the storm is in full swing. Every window is shut tight with the blinds pulled down. Rain pelts down on the porch roof. Along the edges, the water streams over. We enter through a wall of liquid.

Claire makes no haste to head inside. She grabs a towel hanging from the back of a chair and tosses it into my arms. It’s a tad bit wet, but it’s better than nothing.

The bun tied from Claire’s hair comes loose, as she pulls out her hairpins. She takes it by the handful and begins wringing it out. I pop my ear clear. The chatter becomes more distinct.

“I’m guessing you didn’t have a typhoon season where you come from, huh?” She asks.

I shake my head.

“Well, that makes the second time this week. This year’s really starting off strong” She continues. A towel stretched over her head.

Her raven coloured hair lies scattered across her shoulders and sprawled over her back. From behind, she looks just like she used to.

Claire turns to reach for the doorknob, but I move my hand forward, signaling for her to stop. With the torrential downpour around us, I doubt she would notice what I do. And sure enough, she looks to me, lost for reason.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, in almost a whisper.

I point to my ear.

Claire squints at first, skeptical.

“I’m sure it’s just my father.” She says.

She places an ear on the door, her eyes closed, and her breath held. For a moment, the world outside is all that is alive. Then a look of surprise on Claire’s face.

“You’re right! There’s someone else in there. How did you know?” She says with astonishment, but still softly. I shrug off the question.

Claire returns to eavesdropping on the conversation inside. It’s hard to tell how much she can hear, but that’s not much of a problem; I can hear it word for word after all. It genuinely sounds like just a conversation between two friends, and nothing more. Earlier, Claire’s father used the name “Charles” to address this person, but that is not a name familiar to me. And although I’m next to certain they cannot hear us outside, I hesitate to ask Claire.

“I can’t make out a thing they’re saying.” Claire says, quietly.

She looks to me for some kind of reply. I motion for her to come closer, and whisper in her ear.

“Charles.”

She steps back. A grin written right across her face.

“Charles is a friend of my father’s. They used to work togethor, so I guess he’s kind of like my uncle. He’s a fun guy, so you’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about.”

She gracefully spins around to face the door once again. A question tries to escape my throat, but through wavering resolve.

“Where were they raised?”

By the time it makes its way out, though, Claire has already opened the door, and my words falls on deaf ears.

“That rain out there sure is something else.” She says, as she enters the doorway.

A tall man sits at the table. He swings around, leaning an arm over the back of his chair. His gaze meets Claire’s, and he smiles; warmly, authentically. But then, for only just a second, those piercing eyes of his flick upwards looking to where I stand.

My first instinct is to run, to hide. But where to?

It’s possible I could have just imagined it. Recently, I’ve been seeing things that aren’t there. Visions of them. Coming to get me.

“Claire?” The man asks. “Is that you?”

“Indeed it is.”

“My, my, you’ve grown so much since I last saw you. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“What brings you all the way out here?” Claire asks.

“I just came in to escape the rain.” The man, Charles, replies.

It’s obviously a joke, but I cannot help but notice his clothes are completely dry; Claire’s father’s too.

“Will you be staying awhile?” Claire asks, excitedly. “I’ve got so many things I want to show you.”

“Did another doll join the family?” Charles asks.

“Hey! I’m not a kid anymore. And I’m not into those things anymore either.”

The man glances at the shelf on the wall, and the set of handmade toys sitting upon it. Even though they’re clearly just collecting dust, it never occurred to me that Claire had such a childish side.

It feels wrong to be doubtful. Claire had enough trust in me to put herself at my mercy, so the least I can do is give that same trust in return. But if this is all an act, then it seems incredibly believable.

No, what am I thinking? Of course it’s not; I know it’s not. So then why do I feel it more than ever now?

My guilty trust. I can’t bear it any longer.

Charles raises both hands to his side, palms empty.

“Okay, I apologize. I was only joking, okay kiddo? I’d be happy to see what you’ve got.”

“Does that mean you’ll be staying then?”

“Indeed it does. Your father’s got some important business to attend to in the city, so I’m here to babysit for a few days.

Claire’s father nods.

“Sorry to bring this on you so suddenly.” He says. “It’ll only be for a few days, I’ll be back before you know it.”

She retreats into herself, almost sulking.

“And who’s this behind you?” The man says. “Come on in kid, you’ll catch a cold standing out there.”

Perhaps it’s just that I was all of a sudden more on edge, but something about that one line seemed so, forced.

I step inside. The beating of rain dies down as I shut it out behind me.

“Hello, my name is Klaus. I’m helping around the farm these days. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. I’m Charles, if you didn’t pick up on that already. Ambrose and I grew up together, so if you want to know something embarrassing about him, all you have to do is ask.”

He waits for a response, but I do not know what to say. Squinting curiously, staring seeming at the back of my head. I keep my hands held behind me. They squeeze together tightly, but the tremor does not fade so easily.

“Okay kid, here’s the deal,” My ears perk. “I’m not really the best at dealing with uptight children, so you’re going to have to be just a wee bit less nervous around me.”

I remain stiff as a rock, but quickly nod several times, though I do not know why.

Charles sighs, intentionally loudly, but for some reason, I find it rather comforting.

“Well, I guess we’ll get there eventually.” He says.

----------------------------------

Everyone liked Ciel. He was a likeable kind of guy. Always going with the flow, never taking anything all too seriously. Persistently sarcastic, and although he would never admit it, he deeply cared for each of our other peers. He had a way with connecting with others; finding what kind of person it was that they needed and being that person for them. He was everybody, and nobody.

Perhaps it wouldn’t have been unreasonable to say he was never genuine, because he had so many different faces. Perhaps. Ciel was a liar after all. But I don’t think it matters; I’ve met the real Ciel. I’ve seen what he’s really like inside.

Theresa, on the other hand, was nearly as opposite from Ciel as possible. She was never one to lie, never one to pretend. It’s not like people didn’t like her, she was probably the most clever girl in the Conservatory. That alone was enough to earn her the respect of the others. She always spoke her mind, though she didn’t speak very much. But that’s not because she was like me.

Ciel once told me that the less a person speaks, the more value that person’s words carry. He wasn’t the first person to tell me that, though. I heard it from the adults at the orphanage first, probably to try and get me to say something. They stopped trying after a while, but whenever they used that line, I thought it was stupid. So, when Ciel told me the same thing, I told him it was stupid too.

It seems so strange how I never thought it was odd that Ciel and Theresa got along so remarkably well. They were polar opposites. One swaying with the wind, and the other a stern rock. I’d not remembered a single time that they argue about anything. Sure, they would sometimes they would butt ends, in some silly sort of disagreement, but what kind of person doesn’t? And even when they did bicker a bit, they did so almost as a sort of formality; like they were just putting on a show.

There was a night when Theresa was out doing the laundry. Ciel and I had just finished up our game, and we could hear her footsteps coming closer outside. I guess Ciel was feeling rather bored, because he placed a finger to his lips, then snuck himself behind the door. As soon as Theresa walked in, he jumped out in her face, waving his arms about like he’d lost his mind.

He said she got spooked pretty good, but she said she did not. I’m not sure who was right, because I was more interested in figuring out why Ciel hadn’t taken the decisive move. I would have been beaten for sure. Perhaps he just didn’t see it.

Those two had a special bond. Transcending time and space. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if they were on opposite sides of the world, and still knew exactly what the other was thinking.

----------------------------------

A stream of water drips on my head. I would move, that is, if I could.

It’s the first storm of the year. Under the shed whose roof was leaking in the sunlight just a few days ago, all we can do is wait.

Claire sits atop the crate beside me. She thoughtfully gazes out the open front wall. The gray now seemingly every present. Her legs dangle over the edge, above the gravel floor. She kicks them back and forth, beating the wet wood with her bare heels. Although they don’t move, my feet hang too. But then, that’s how it should be, Claire is taller than me.

“So,” She says, finally breaking the monotone pounding of the rain.

“Theresa. Who is that anyways?”

I tilt my gaze slightly downwards, with a bashful reply.

“You still remember that?”

She nods.

“I remember a lot of things.”

“She’s, she’s my, sister.”

I catch a glimpse of a smile.

“Huh. Really.” She says. “I’m a little bit jealous to be honest. I’ve always wanted a sister.

“Well, she’s not actually my sister. More like, a really close friend. No, like family, I guess.”

Claire raises an eyebrow. Her jaw just a bit lowered.

“So,” She says again, this time lingering on the word. “then she is your sister.”

I shrug as far as my numb shoulders can move. For a second, I think I smirk too, but I’m not sure if she noticed.

Claire looks back outside as she begins to speak.

“If I had a sister, I would teach her how to plow the fields, and walk through mud without losing her sandals. And then I’d show her the places to jump and climb, and how to sneak out of the house without dad noticing.”

I smirk again, wider this time; an eloquent smile. I suck my lips in to try and hold it back, but Claire notices, nonetheless.

"What’s so funny?” She asks.

I kick my legs forward. They beat the empty box once before coming to a stop.

“It’s nothing really.” I reply. “I just envy how simple your wishes can be.”

As I speak, I sniffle, just once. The rain has forced me to do so for a while now; Claire too. But something about this one is different.

“Are you making fun of me? That’s not very nice of you, you know.” Claire says.

“No, no. I was just thinking…”

There’s a gap in my thought.

“Thinking, about what?” She asks.

“…nothing. Nothing important.”

My voice comes out weak, and Claire takes notice. Her demeanor changers. She’s concerned, trying to figure out whether it really is just the rain. I try to hide my face; I don’t want to look at hers. She wouldn’t understand. I didn’t.

“Is something wrong?”

Comforting words, but not to me. Not to her.

I hug my knees to my chest.

“You can tell me about anything. I’m good at listening.”

My head shakes no, but she probably only sees it’s back move ever so slightly, side to side. At least, I hope that’s the case.

Claire’s posture shifts, and the wood creaks. She begins speaking with a sigh.

“You know, Klaus. When my mother left, six years ago, the last thing she said to me was ‘you be a good girl until I get back’. She never told me where she was going, or when she would come back.”

Claire pauses. She blinks once – a very long once.

“It was only a few months before we found you, that she came back.”

As she speaks, I can only wonder how she does it. How she can speak, without tears.

“I’ve tried my best to be a good girl, I really have. But, she came back already. So, I don’t have to anymore. Do I?”

There’s a long stillness. I work up the courage to speak.

“I, don’t know.”

A grin forces itself onto Claire’s face, but it’s only a half-smile. I’ve seen it somewhere before. A smile from the inside, but one that’s slowly drifting away.

My words begin coming out, silently. She stops me.

“You don’t have to tell me now, if it’s too soon. I’m good at waiting.” She says.

I face the ground, but my eyes rolled all the way to the side, looking at her.

“I’ll let you be alone for a while. I’ll just be right outside.”

She stands to leave, her movements stiff. With one look from behind, her pitch-black strands, I see only one person.

Claire.

“Wait.”

She looks back over her shoulder.

“Don’t go. Outside, I mean. You can’t see anything from there.”

Her smile says she doesn’t understand. But that’s okay. I’m not quite sure if I do.

“Never mind. That didn’t make any sense. Forget I said that.”

Claire looks out amidst a frame of brighter days. Rain falls from her hair and down her shoulders, gathering up at her fingertips. The sky gives her no pardons. It’s relentless, sparing not a flicker of light. She speaks to the shrouded fields, the unyielding clouds. Her voice reaches all that are willing to hear.

“I’m not going to let it happen again.”

She looks over her shoulder.

“Tomorrow morning, let’s do it.”