"Hi, and hello." 

Is what Kris first says to him, and it brings a ridiculous smile onto his face. He's imagined what his voice would sound like, but it wasn't nearly as close to as charming. He's also imagined how this situation would all pan out -- but he still hasn't figured out how to let Kris know that he doesn't speak, or more so, that he can't speak. 

He swallows his nervous heart back down his throat and watches as Kris takes a seat next to him, admiring his crooked smile and his kinda-messy hair. He seems to be patiently waiting for his answer, and it's then that Chanyeol realizes he needs to respond, somehow. He quickly pulls out his notepad to scribble a few words, pushing it over to the other who looks intrigued before he reads it. 

Hi, did you bring an umbrella? It's supposed to rain soon. 

Kris smiles again, and Chanyeol's heart does a few jumps from just that, as he watches Kris decides to speak through scribbles as well. 

No, but I can wait it out here until it stops. Thank you for letting me know, Chanyeol. 

The notepad gets pushed back to his side, and he peers over, unable to help the smile on his face that won't fade. He wonders if he looks like a complete idiot, and just hopes his attempts to hide his excitement at their small conversation is working somewhat. 

You can borrow mine! I won't leave till late today when the rain actually stops so... you can return it the next time you're here maybe? 

You're so convinced I will be a good person and return your umbrella. 

You seem like a good person. If not I'll make sure Minseok hyung makes your coffee extra bitter!!! 

At the last note, Kris barks out into a laugh, and Chanyeol observes the way his eyes crinkle on the side. 

I shivered in fear just now, did you see? But... alright. Only because it'll give me another excuse to be able to speak to you. 

At that note, it is Chanyeol's heart that crinkles along the sides, folding and unfolding, again and again at each and every word that Kris scribes onto the notepad between them. Chanyeol thinks he could get used to this, in the way his heart just doesn't stop at whatever it is it's doing. For a moment, their eyes meet. Chanyeol just blinks a couple of times, and so does Kris. Then Chanyeol finds himself smiling absentmindedly, and finds Kris doing the same. There's something warm there, which Chanyeol cannot pinpoint.

Could I ask a question, Kris? 

What is it? 

What kind of music are you alwas listening to, with those headphones you always have in?

The question seems to throw Kris off guard, with Chanyeol observing the way his brows furrow in thought. It takes him a while to think, it seems, before he carefully, one word at a time, jots down the next response. Before Chanyeol is able to read it, Kris moves a little closer, soon close enough to have their shoulders touch. Then his hand comes over to his ear, where he gently pushes an earbud in, with Chanyeol expectant of classical music, or jazz, or something fitting to Kris. 

Except there's no classical, jazz that comes to his ear -- in fact, there is no music at all. He listens to nothing, as he watches Kris finally push the notepad back over to him. 

A kind of song only I can listen to. I can't hear.

It is now Chanyeol that finds himself at a loss for words, struggling to give a proper response. He turns and finds Kris' eyes on his again, except -- at a much closer distance than before. His eyes are quick to fall onto the notepad again, scribbling to give himself a distraction from their close proximity. 

I can hear it, it's a song of my style. Maybe I'll play it one day on stage. Thank you for sharing the song with me.

Kris gives one more smile, and he thinks it's the most genuine one yet.

Can I ask a question too, then?

Of course! What is it? 

Why is it you never sing?

Chanyeol's lips press into a thin line, before his teeth nip at the lower lip at the question.

I can't sing. I can't sing because I can't speak. 

When he meet Kris' eyes this time, they are gazing at his own with ones of understanding. For the first time, it is not pity nor sympathy he earns from another, but rather, pure empathy and comfort. It's a kind of warmth again, which overtakes him even on a chilly day such as this one.