Because I couldn't be bothered to talk, I made everyone think I was mute. The school's bad boy thought I was incapable of speech. Every day, he'd tell me about the pain his family caused him. I listened to him babble on, annoyed beyond belief. So one day, I beat the crap out of all the debt collectors looking for him, leaving them half dead. Then I turned around and grabbed him by the throat. "You little mute, you..." "Shut up." I kissed his lips. Ignoring the emotions in his eyes. A stray dog without an owner. I'm taking him home. 1 The first time I met Arthur was in the school counselor's office. I was sleeping on a bed behind a curtain. He had just driven the counselor away in a fit of rage, then started flipping through his own file. "Arthur, eighteen years old, violent tendencies, lacks empathy, absent family upbringing..." Arthur read the description of himself from the file while yawning. "What is this nonsense?" He laughed at his own file, then said: "I'm a very kind-hearted good guy." I kept my eyes closed, remembering what the counselor had just said: he instigated a group fight and then ran away himself. What a "good guy." I don't know if anyone ever taught Arthur that disturbing someone's sleep without permission is very rude. Anyway, when he pulled open the curtain next to me, I didn't open my eyes. Five seconds later— "Stop faking it. Why pretend to sleep when you're clearly awake?" I opened my eyes, and Arthur's distinct, handsome, yet infuriating eyes looked straight at me. I didn't say anything. "What? Faking sleep isn't enough, now you're faking being mute?" I pinched my thumb and index finger together and moved them from one side of my mouth to the other. It meant: Zip it. Arthur froze for a second: "Sign language? You really are mute?" I reached out and tapped the file he was holding. My information was in there too. "Chloe, eighteen years old, speech impairment, introverted, antisocial personality, low desire to communicate." Arthur put down the file and looked back at me: "So you really are a pitiful little thing." Let him think whatever he wants. I closed my eyes again. I pretend to be mute precisely to avoid interacting with idiots like this. "Hey, why did you close your eyes again? You haven't told me what that sign language meant." I rolled over, turning my back to him. Even without sign language, that action clearly conveyed my meaning. Piss off. ... 2 If I had known from the start how annoying Arthur was. I might have actually graced him with an explanation on the very first day we met. The next day, out of habit, I pulled open the curtain in the counselor's office. And froze when I saw the person lying on the bed. Arthur acted as if he had been waiting for me for a long time. He propped his head up, lying on his side, and waved when he saw me: "Oh, little mute, we meet again." I ruthlessly yanked the curtain shut again. The third day. The fourth day. The fifth day... By the seventh time I saw Arthur smiling and waving at me, I finally couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed him by the collar, raw anger in my eyes. He twisted my arm and pinned my hand down, still smiling: "Don't be mad. If you tell me what that sign meant the other day, I won't fight you for the bed anymore." After two years, I pulled out my phone again to explain the meaning of a sign to another human being. Arthur looked at the two words I typed out, "Zip it," and fell deep into thought. "The little mute has a pretty fiery temper, huh? Just like this..." He pulled out a picture of a Jalapeño pepper from Plants vs. Zombies to show me. ... For the next two days, Arthur didn't steal my spot again. Just as I was thinking my days could finally return to normal, Arthur was called into the counselor's office once more. "Arthur, I hope you can hold some goodwill towards this world instead of blindly using violence to solve problems. Violence is never the most effective solution." Arthur's lazy voice sounded: "Doctor, you're overthinking it. It was just self-defense." "Self-defense?" The counselor's tone was laced with obvious disbelief. "Arthur, I've seen too many students like you. In reality, most people use self-defense as an excuse to minimize their actions. But ask yourself honestly, weren't you the one who actually provoked the incident?" Arthur laughed softly: "It's really strange. How did someone like you, who thinks so highly of himself, become a psychological counselor? Is the school really that desperate?" 3 The counselor slammed the door and left. Arthur pulled open the curtain next to me: "Little mute, you heard all that, right?" I plugged my ears. Arthur crouched down and pulled one of my hands away from my ear: "Alright, stop faking. Make some room for me?" I opened my eyes. It was only then that I noticed the cut on the corner of his mouth. Arthur stood up and got onto the bed, but how could that poor, tiny bed fit two well-developed teenagers? The bedboards creaked loudly. Just as I was contemplating how to kick him off. The door to the counselor's office opened. The counselor, holding a thermos, froze in place when he saw the position we were in. And just like that, both Arthur and I were banned from entering the counselor's office again. I walked up to the roof, and Arthur followed right behind me. Until I turned around and gave him the sign for "get lost." "That means... you want me to leave?" I looked at him and sneered internally. Reality is far crueler than you imagine, idiot. Seeing I didn't say anything, his intuition told him he guessed right, so he said: "Little mute, I was misunderstood. I need comforting." Looking at his smiling face, I always felt he wasn't asking for comfort. He was asking for a slap. I wouldn't give him what he wanted. So, I patted him on the head like I was petting a dog. Arthur's facial expression went blank for a second. But very quickly, he resumed his smile. "Do you come to the roof often?" I didn't answer, raising my hand to open the roof door. It was locked. I frowned, and before I could react. Arthur pressed up behind me. He leaned against my back, reaching forward with a key in his hand. With a click, the door unlocked. Arthur's smiling voice sounded from behind me: "After you, little mute." 4 Arthur gave the key to me. "It's my fault you can't sleep in the counselor's office anymore. You can hang out here from now on." I typed on my phone and showed him: 【Will you come?】 "Do you want to see me?" He leaned down to look at me. I typed: 【Forget it if you're coming.】 ... Arthur broke his promise to come less often. Out of seven days, he came five times. He even brought his test papers and candy with him every time. Probably because we knew each other now, I started running into him frequently. Sometimes I'd see him staring blankly out the window, sometimes feeding stray cats, sometimes getting confessed to. Arthur was popular with both guys and girls, but his answer was always the same: "Wake up, we're at the age where we should be studying." A guy who looked like a total slacker loved advising others to study. What a fake. "Little mute, want some candy?" I was leaning back against the wall, my hands behind my head, eyes closed. I didn't say anything, just opened my mouth slightly. The next second, an orange-flavored candy was popped into my mouth. But following it were fingertips. I opened my eyes and looked sharply at Arthur. He had already pulled his hand back, looking as if he hadn't expected me to lick his fingers. I had gotten used to Arthur feeding me candy, mostly because rejecting him was too much trouble, but it had always been lollipops. So this was the first time this happened. His Adam's apple bobbed: "That..." I looked at the fresh scratches on his face, took a deep breath, and looked away. I'll spare your life. Because I looked away again, I missed seeing Arthur staring blankly at the finger I had just licked. 5 The more time we spent together, the more Arthur talked. The day he talked the most was the day he got beaten the worst. The sky was nearing dusk, and other students had gradually left after school. I took off my headphones and just opened my eyes. The roof door opened. His usually clean school uniform was covered in mud and dirt, his hair was a mess, and his face was covered in large and small cuts. Great, a face that could easily have been the school's heartthrob was now barely fit for a host club. He walked up to me holding a bag of medicine, smiling a very ugly smile: "Little mute, help me put some medicine on?" When I saw the shocking wounds on his back, I furrowed my brow. Arthur seemed to feel he should explain, so he said: "This is from fighting for the position of mafia boss..." I pressed the cotton swab hard into his wound. "Hiss..." He drew a sharp breath of cold air and quickly changed his tune: "It was from debt collectors." I switched to a new cotton swab, dipped it in iodine, and applied it to his wound. "But they aren't my debts. I'm an upstanding young citizen." Still joking around even when talking about serious things. I couldn't be bothered to respond. "It's debt my dad owes." Arthur seemed to find the situation a bit awkward. He felt his pockets; no more candy. Then he checked another pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He stared at it for a while, then put it back. Then he pulled it out again. I snatched the cigarettes from him and tossed them into the trash can. He froze for a moment, then suddenly started laughing. Listening to his laughter, I thought he had been beaten crazy. "My mom was trafficked. After I was born, she ran away. When I was 13, my dad racked up a bunch of gambling debts and ran away too." The setting sun cast a glow on half his face. The blood had long dried. I listened quietly, my hands never stopping the application of medicine. "But I'm lucky. My grandma came looking for me. She gave me a sum of money. It wasn't enough to pay the debts, but it's enough for me to finish college." I've never seen someone live like this and still say they were "lucky." But I wasn't interested in what he was saying. I just thought it was incredibly rare that someone like him hadn't turned into a scumbag out for revenge against society. After all, living like this, there was no hope to be seen. 6 After bandaging the wounds on his back, he turned his face toward me. I wiped the dried blood off his face, then applied ointment. As I rubbed the ointment in circles around the corner of his mouth, he stared at me, completely motionless. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I pressed a clean finger against his lips, then slipped it inside. Arthur opened his mouth, looking like he was about to suck my finger in. But I pulled it out. Looking at his thoroughly red ears, I remained expressionless, but my stomach was doing flip-flops. I knew I shouldn't hang out with idiots all the time. Now look what happened. I've become an idiot too. Since that day, the dynamic between Arthur and me became subtle. Simply put, Arthur started initiating physical contact with me frequently. Feeding me candy involved touching my lips, leaving together meant he'd grab my wrist, and sometimes when he was half-asleep doing test papers, he'd rest his head on my shoulder. Of course, I knew he wasn't actually sleeping. Purely faking it. I had threatened him, but it was also true that he didn't listen at all. And because he was badly injured that day, rumors flew around the school the next day. Even someone like me, who slept on their desk during class, heard the students in front of me discussing him when I woke up. "He definitely got into a fight again. After all, right after school started, he fought a dozen thugs and beat them all down." "Oh my god, so that was true! I always thought it was just a rumor..." "How could it be a rumor? If it were, would everyone in school be so afraid of him? They even crowned him the school boss." It made sense. I nodded, then kicked the chair of the student in front of me. The two of them turned around, and I gave them the sign for "quiet." This was the sign I used most frequently with them. So, after turning back around, they consciously kept quiet. I looked out the window, a question surfacing in my mind. Are debt collectors really that good at fighting?
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