• Silence. That's all that there ever was. Silence and the all the colours of the world.
    But whenever he closed his eyes, the sound of the wind never cease, the beating of his wings never stopped, and the song of the sky filled his soul...
    Whenever he dreamed, he was flying. All he could hear was the Song.

    And that was why he did it.
    He stood, the boy with sandy hair, on the very edge of the roof of his apartment building. He closed his eyes and raised his head to the air, already hearing the song of the sky with his deaf ears. Below a crowd had already begun to form, shouting, crying, pointing. He had been there for less than ten minutes.

    Allen stared up at his friend in a sad state of shock. He knew about Chester's dreams, about what he saw and heard behind closed lids. He was the only person that he had told...
    "Chester!" he yelled, but he knew that it was no good. He wouldn't even be able to see his hand-signs from here.

    And then Chester jumped. Allen couldn't tear his eyes away, couldn't move. Even when the sickening crunch of a body landing right in front of him and the harsh, cold feeling of blood drops hit his face, he couldn't look away. His brilliant blue eyes widened, tears falling freely, then he saw the ghost.

    It rose from Chester's mangled form, face skywards and mouth open in the joy of release. It's eyes connected with Allen's, and a momentary look of sadness crossed its features. Allen inhaled past a sob, and Chester's ghost disappeared with the wind. He dropped to his knees, blood beginning to pool around him. His eyes dropped to Chester's body and he clawed at the concrete until his nails bled as he gave vent to his grief.