The bus was empty, for my street was the first to be visited. The bus driver and I always remained silent with one and other, so there was that bit of peace before I ended up dealing with the then entering children.
I was Seventeen now. Still as quiet as when born and I still had the wavy blonde hair and blue, almost purple eyes. An awkward curl popped out from my bangs and bounced around as I walked. I wore average clothes;baggy, once being m brothers.. I didn't really enjoy any football or soccer like my Elder Brother and his friends (Though I was rather talented at hockey...), causing many to think I was rather... feminine
And yet, in all certainty, I liked the way I looked. I was plain, and really a calm, simple-minded person.
But other's didn't see me in the same light; Or see me at all.
I was invisible to the kids around me. People would sit next to me, or even on me. As if I were a ghost of some sort.
There was one though. He caught my eye every time. Walking up those black stairs, his silver hair and ruby red eyes, his long sleeves and baggy pants.
Where he sat, none did.
When he spoke, all were silent.
And when he looked at me, plain old Matthew Williams; I couldn't help but widen my eyes at the man across from my seat.
Gilbert Beilschmidt was his name. Quiet. Presence not enjoyed. Ignored by Loved ones.
He was just like me.