Silence.
Quiet. 
The state in which there is no noise, that's something he enjoys. 
Sound is simply an unnecessary factor. He listens, but he doesn't speak. 
He can, but he doesn't.
--

I haven't said a single word since I've entered this room. But that's nothing new. No one expects me to say anything.
The others chatter on and on. Noisily, talking non stop. Do they not realize how irritating their voices can be, how much it can penetrate through one's thought, how much their speech messes up a person's state of mind? I'd like to tell them to shut up, to keep the conversation to a minimum, but I don't, because I don't talk.

It's not really true that I do not speak, because I have spoken before. Sometimes, it's inevitable. We're debuting soon, we've been through interviews and meetings, things like that. Managers force us to say stuff. When it comes to that, I have to talk, because much as I seem unwilling, I want this job.

I want to dance to a faceless crowd on a brightly lit stage. I want to move about a raised platform with effortless grace, fans cheering and screaming, waving light sticks and banners. That's what I want. I'm not so sure about the singing, buts that's okay, because I'm not much of a vocalist anyway. I'll do my best to make sure the lines I'm given are short, my parts few and far between. 

To get what I want, I have to cooperate, don't I? So when the higher ups ask me to talk at interviews, I do. When they approach me with questions that cannot be answered by a simple yes or no, I answer. My replies are sho