They assumed he had learned to drown out all the whispering. They assumed that he couldn’t hear them or that he was ignoring what they had to say. It hadn’t gotten any better nor any worse than before. He just kept his head down and buried in the textbook for their English class. Preparing for tomorrow's test a failure in grade now would only meet the yelling of his mother. And other punishments. He simply had to continue to do his best. 

He knew kids in the past who probably asked him, didn’t he want his freedom or his independence. He wasn’t sure if he had the answers to those questions. It wasn’t a hard yes nor a firm handed no. Either way it was the way things were to be and he didn’t particularly care for the conflict. Both his parents could be downright mean if he tried to say anything.

It was best he wasn’t heard. Just seen. Even if that meant other kids got to talk behind his back and call him odd or weird. He didn’t mind it. It had become something so commonplace in his life that their chatter was like a spring breeze. Every now and then you’d hear something, but then it pass you by. There was no reason to talk to the wind.

That’s how he dealt with it. That’s how he coped with it. He was still uncertain about a lot of things currently in his life. The deck of cards he found on the bench hadn’t been claimed by any owner. And being near the deck made him feel odd about the situation. Like there was someone else inside of it. He tried to ignore it because anything that detracted him from his studies meant a poor future. Or so his family would tell him.

He in a sense believed it. That video games and trading card games were distractions. He found himself escaping into their reality whenever he had a chance to play them. Clearly something that could so easily have someone succumb to their presence was a distraction from an expected perfect future. 

He only glanced away from his textbook once. He wondered if any of the other students had a deck of cards? He wasn’t confident enough to talk to anyone himself, but he saw one of the students pinning up a flier. Trading Card Game Club? Maybe he’d be able to give the deck to someone else. Someone more appropriate. It just wasn’t something he was interested in or knew too much about. 

Standing up and walking towards the redheaded student. He felt his heart racing. All the students eyes on him. All the snickers. The whispers. The murmuring. Was less easy to drown out when he wasn’t so focused on something. He wished he knew the student’s name. He wished he didn’t feel so weird and awkward. Or so strange.

Butterflies forming in his stomach that made speaking the same as feeling like you were going to throw up. 

[@HeroicSociopath]

“Um,” he muttered, “about the trading card game club.” he paused, “are there a lot of people? I...would...like to return something.”

He could hear his own heartbeat in his ear. His heart racing. His chest tightening. Socializing with others wasn’t exactly an easy feat. He was hoping that this would go over smoothly. That he’d somehow be directed to a few people. Maybe someone missing a deck. He didn’t want to believe or really didn’t believe he was meant for this deck, this ring he kept in his pocket. There felt like another person budging their way in his subconscious, but he tried to ignore it.

Obviously, obviously it needed to be someone else.