Page 136 of The Sound of Him

Like how the sound of Ace can range from low and soft, to bright and loud, but somehow, it’s always exactly what I need. Like how he’s usually silly and energetic and nervous and tired, words spilling out of him in waves of chaos, but sometimes something happens, something shifts. The brightness fades, not because of exhaustion or sadness, but because we’ve settled. He calms and I calm and the world goes quiet. Even when the music is playing, and his keys are clacking, and bags of snacks are crinkling. Even when he speaks. Even the usual noise inside my mind. It’s all quiet.

Nights with Ace are always blue, but those moments, those quiet moments when everything is so soft, stuffed-bunny-soft, and everything is safe - those moments are when the blue tints indigo.

Dr. Singh doesn’t have to know about all of that. I get to keep those moments safe. I get to keep them just for me.

But… he could know about Ace.

I take a new sheet of paper.

I draw another crescent moon with a soft yellow. Then a box for a desk and some angles that are supposed to be a chair. I add a bunch of squares for the computer screens and color them light blue like they’re glowing. I’m not sure he’ll understand, though, as I look down at it.

I add an arrow to the side and carefully draw a keyboard. I give up after a few of the letters, not sure they’re even in the right spots. I draw the mouse next. That’s easier. I follow it up with music notes floating through the air, coming out of the computer.

I look at all of it again.

Then I carefully write,ACE.

I turn the paper, showing it to him. He leans forward to get a better look before a soft smile curls along his lips. “Is that… Ace’s office?”

I nod.

I don’t know why, but I can’t meet his eyes anymore.

Was this a bad idea?

“And the music - is that what you do together in there? Listen to music at night?”

I nod again before adding the wordsHIDEandWORKS.

He’s quiet, so I make myself look up at him.

There’s something strange on his face, but it disappears when our eyes meet. His smile doesn’t seem fake. Just…careful, maybe?

“You listen to music while you hide and he works?”

I lean back against the couch, drawing my knees up, wishing I had brought my bunny down with me. He feels so far away up on the cushion.

God, that’s so stupid, isn’t it?It’s right there. I just have to twist around.

I’m so tired.

“Matt? Do I have that right? The two of you spend nights in his office and listen to music?” I nod. “And you hide while he works?”

I rest my arms on my knees and my cheek on my arms. I lift a hand to show him one finger. Yes.

“You know?” Dr. Singh begins. He waits, but I can’t look at him.I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.“That sounds really nice.”

Oh.

Wait.

Really?

I carefully look at him.

Now he has that beaming smile. It just gets bigger when he sees me looking at him, but then he seems to force it to soften and asks, “Is it safe? Are you safe there, Matt?”

That’s the easiest question. I don’t even have to think. I’m nodding and putting up one finger at the same time.