I Can't Hear You Over The Music Anyway

Abigail is mute. Always has been. She's learned to deal with it, but when two random boys take two random items from her she has to get them back. And what's up with the new kid in class? (A Nat Wolff FanFiction)

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1. chapter 1

Abigail walked into a long abandoned house, she made as much noise as possible to make sure there was no one there. When there was no reply she walked over to the abandoned staircase, and opened her guitar case. Her red hair created a curtain in front of her face as she looked at her fingers. She was silent, and let the guitar supply all the sound she needed. Suddenly there was a sound. It was snapping wood. Next came the voices. She packed up her guitar, and ran to hide behind the staircase. She soon saw two teenage guys walk down the stairs.

"Man, we narrowly escaped those girls." The taller one said. He walked over to the steps, and picked something up. It looked dusty.

"Good thing I decided we should climb that tree." The other spoke. They both had voices like the princes in fairytales had, and both looked like, with a change of clothes, they could be princes. One had hair that was slightly spiked up, and very dark, the other had a head full of curls. Abigail was so busy studying them she didn't notice she had left her only guitar pick on the steps. The curly haired one bent over, and picked it up.

"Alex," the first one said, "Come on! Mom will be worried." He continued walking towards the door. Alex stood up slowly, and looked around to see if there was anyone around that could've left it. He looked in Abigail's general direction. Her breath got caught in her throat as they made eye contact. He pocketed the pick, and walked down the stairs.

"Nat," he spoke, "I could've sworn I saw someone over at the stairs." He said.

"I bet you forgot your contacts, didn't you?" The apparent Nat said. Alex nodded, "And there is a statue over there." Nat said pointing to where Abigail stood.

"I guess you're right." Alex said. They walked out the big double doors. Abigail sighed, and stood up. He took her pick. Her one, and only pick, and she couldn't stop him. Abigail sighed, and picked up her guitar case. She walked over the big double doors, and into the fresh air, and Sun light. She whistled as she walked. Though she couldn't talk, that didn't mean she couldn't blow air through her lips to create sound.

Abigail was born with an abnormality in her genes. She could hear, and see, and smell, taste, touch, everything, but she couldn't speak. She hated that it was the only thing holding her back as a performer. She couldn't sing, but she could make a guitar sing. Abigail came from a happy family with both her protective parents, and two normal siblings. Her family was perfect, yet Abigail hated coming home. She dreaded dinner time, and she absolutely hated how much her parents disliked her music.

"Its just noise, Abby." Her mother always said. And she, most of all, hated being called Abby. Abigail much preferred to be called Gail, but her mother would "have none of that".

All Abigail could do was go to school, come home, and stay in her room until dinner was ready. But occasionally she would climb out her window, and sneak to a quiet place. She would either take pictures, or play her guitar.

She couldn't get a job, so she put out her hat every time she was around other people. She usually didn't make much money, but she didn't care. She loved the music.

Abigail climbed back up to the window in her room, and climbed in. She put her guitar away, and sat down. She sighed, and peeked out her door.

"Abby?" He mother called.

'I'm late for dinner!' She thought.

"Hon?" Her mother called again. Abigail appeared and smiled, "Where were you?" She asked. Abigail drew a 'z' in the air, "Oh, sleeping!" Her mother smiled, "It's time to eat." She said. Abigail nodded, and made her way down the stairs. She sat in her usual spot at the table, and ate while her family talked about how their day was.

"Abby, what about your day?" Her dad asked. She shrugged, "Oh Come on! I'm sure there was something!" He said. She thought over her day.

She woke up, fell out of bed, dragged a comb across her head. She made her way down stairs, and drank a cup of coffee, and looking up, she noticed she was late. She grabbed her coat, and grabbed her hat, made the bus in seconds flat. After that her day was normal.

She shook her head in response to her father. He shrugged.

"Lizzy, Hope, you're gonna clean the dishes tonight." Her mother said to Abigail's sisters. The two girls across from Abigail groaned.

"But mom!" Hope said

"No buts, go." She said, "Now, Abby," she turned towards her, "We know you went out earlier." She said.

"You're not in trouble, but next time, leave a note." Her father added. She nodded, and went up to her room. She picked up her guitar, and played a few chords. She sighed, and picked up her notebook. Or at least she tried to. It was gone.

'I bet it was those intruders.' She thought to herself. She sighed, and leaned back on her bed. Next thing she knew it was morning. She got up, and got ready for school.

"Abby?" Her mother called from downstairs. Abigail stomped to show she was awake, "I'm coming up." She called. Her door soon opened, and her mother appeared.

"Are you ready for school?" She asked. Abigail shook her head, and walked over to her dresser. She pulled out jeans, and a t-shirt, "Hurry up, OK?" Abigail nodded, and got dressed. She decided to drive to school that morning. She stepped outside into the cold autumn air. School had started just a few days ago, and Abigail was already tried of it. She made it to class by the skin of her teeth, and by the breadth of a hair. She sat down, and pulled out her history book.

"Class, we have a new student today," Mrs. Greenfield said, "His name is Nat Wolff, and be has a request for you all."

"Hi, you might recognized me as someone you know, or maybe not, but please don't crowd me if you do." He smiled, "Thanks." He added before taking the seat next to Abigail. He smiled at her, and waved. She waved back and grinned. He seemed nice.

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