"METRO, are you sure this is okay?" Jagger whispers, catching up to my pace. "'Cause if you're getting yourself in shit for this we can turn around."

"No. I insist," I respond, paying careful attention to my quiet footsteps as I lead the group along the dimly lit corridors. Thankfully it is much too early for staff or students to be awake. "I owe this to all of you."

"You don't owe us anything," Jagger assures me.

"I believe I do. Besides the fact, we all could use a lifting in spirits."

I slowly peek my head around the corner before turning; the corridor is empty and I continue, the group following my brisk pace. This Fine Arts Division of the institution is a longer walk than I intended it would be, and much more difficult to find in the dark.

"Anyway," I add. "I cannot foresee the situation becoming worse than it already is, even if we are caught."

Titus laughs.

"Shh!" Jagger scolds him.

"Sorry," he whispers. "We're so screwed it's funny, at this point."

Sommer's small giggle is the first sound she has made since the previous incident. It brings me slight hope.

"Now where are you taking us?"

Finally, we reach the two large auditorium doors I have been searching for.

"Won't they be locked?" Titus questions.

"Most certainly," I respond, taking my access chip from my pocket and holding it against the door. The clicking noise is quite satisfactory to me, meaning it has been unlocked.

"I did not ask you previously," I inquire. "How were you able to gain access to my dormitory? And how were you able to decipher which room was mine?"

I lead the group through the doors into the dark room, closing them behind me.

"I know where they keep the extra access chips," Jagger replies. "Lucky for us, someone left a copy of the room numbers on the main desk. I didn't know you could get into every room with that thing."

"Nearly every room," I correct him.

"Where are we?" Sommer asks.

I feel against the wall for a light switch. I tap it, illuminating the entire auditorium with bright light. The group stares in awe.

Lines of cushioned seats transcend down to an elevated stage, where rows of trumpets, trombones, saxophones and French horns fill the back, their brass glows reflecting on the stage floor. At the angle we stand, the numerous string instruments can be seen sitting offstage; acoustic guitars, cellos, violins; all arranged in perfectly organized rows. It is almost as though the stage has been prepared for Jagger, Titus, and Sommer; shining electric guitars to the left, a grand piano with gleaming white keys to the right, a large drum set complete with symbols and base, metal rims glistening
under the stage lights. A single microphone sits center stage, along with two others on the right and left, all in their stands at the ready.

"We can't actually play, though." Jagger turns to me. "Can we?"

"Of course," I state. "Why else would I have brought you here?"

I turn the auditorium lights off so that only the stage is lit and begin walking down the long staircase between the seats. The group follows.

"What if someone hears us?" Titus questions. "We'll wake the whole building if we start playing."

"The walls are soundproof. Otherwise, the musicians would disturb the other classes during their practice time." I smile at their hopeful expressions as they alight with joy.

"Are you serious?" Jagger gleams at me, arms spread. "We actually get to perform here?"

Sommer runs up the stage steps, giggling while jumping with giddiness. Titus takes Jagger's wrist and pulls him to the stage as well. I take a seat in the front row as my personal performance begins. Jagger switches on the microphone.

Hello darkness, my old friend

Sommer plays a minor chord on the piano to follow Jagger's singing, Titus taking the electric guitar and placing the strap around his shoulders.

The beginning of the song is dark, slow, and simple, the only sound being Jagger's deep voice and a basic chord on the piano.

And the vision
That was planted in my brain
Still remains,
Within the sound
Of silence.

Titus runs his fingers across the strings, a strong cord adding depth to the song for a mere moment before returning to its simple melody once again. Sommer's cords begin to increase in complexity. In an instant, the song turns, Jagger's voice filling with great passion.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.

Jagger's eyes fill with emotion, the music illuminating his expression. I feel the power of the lyrics in the atmosphere, I feel the vibrations of each sound, each cord, within my core. The power and depth thicken, the lyrics nearly reaching out and touching me. Jagger brings his hands to the microphone, clutching it.

People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs
That voices never share
And no one dare
Disturb the sound
Of silence.

Each time the last lyrics of the chorus are sung, Jagger's voice mellows, reaching a high level of passion before dampening it until the bridge of the song is reached. With each movement, which each expression, Jagger appears more enveloped in the song.

"Fools," said I, "you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you."
But my words
Like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells
Of silence.

With these lyrics, his voice executes the greatest emotion I have heard, rasped to the point where I fear he will lose it. He further fuels the emotional song with his voice. The words leave a trail of power behind them as they fill the walls of this room. I see this self-developed power in Jagger's eyes. The song nears its end. I find myself longing for it to continue.

And the sign said:
"The words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And the tenement halls,"
And whispered in the sound

The music temporarily stops and he begins to sing softly again.

Of silence.

The last lyrics drag across Sommer's cords before ceasing with a single powerful one. I rise and applaud, nearly expecting the room to be filled with cheering. The group laughs.

"She can sing too," Jagger says, pointing to Sommer. "when she wants to."

"I dunno..." She blushes, rising from the piano bench.

"And now, and exclusive performance for Metro Riverton..." Jagger winks, speaking in an animated voice, "the amazing, the talented, the beautiful..."

Sommer shoves him, laughing.

"Go get a guitar you loser!" she says playfully, adjusting the height of the microphone.

Jagger returns from backstage with an acoustic guitar, taking the microphone on the other side. He begins the song with a simple, soft melody.

As Jagger plays, the group looks at each other, warm smiles spread across their faces. I am able to see the feelings that connect them, the common bond they have formed from being able to relate to each other, overcoming times of toil and suffering together and providing each other support. After meeting this close group, I am able to see what I have been longing for in my own life; a true bond, a true trust, and connection with individuals whom I care for, a bond neither my parents nor peers could provide; I wish I had grown up a part of it.

Sommer begins, her voice complimenting the soft melody. She does not sing as I expected; vocals deep and rich, hitting each note with elegance and a vivid tone. Titus adjusts the strap of the electric guitar around his shoulders. Jagger finishes the last cord of the first stanza. Both boys look to Sommer, smiling.

It was the roar of the crowd
That gave me heartache to sing
It was a lie when they smiled
And said, "You won't feel a thing,"

The electric guitar replaces the acoustic, changing the song from soft and relaxing to alternative. Sommer's voice takes up a new richness. I cannot pinpoint what, but something about her entire persona has changed, adapting to the pace and taking control of the lyrics.

If I'm so wrong
How can you listen all night long?
Now will it matter
After I'm gone
Because you never learn a goddamn thing.

Titus and Jagger echo her words in a two-part harmony. By listening to the lyrics, I begin to question myself.

If what I say, according to my superiors, is so undeniably immoral and illogical, why am I being listened to? Why has my thinking become such an issue, rather than being disregarded as the thoughts of a foolish young boy? I must have some sense in my words, or else they would be completely ignored and labeled as insignificant.

This music, it enchants me. I am mesmerized by its lyrics and melody and performers. If I have any hope in my being, it is because of these three individuals.

I can see they are appreciative of my act in bringing them here and allowing them to showcase their passion for music, but yet, I wish to do more. I wish to reach out and touch them with my words as they are doing to me with theirs. I wish to be free of the limitations I have been limited by for my entire life. But most critically, I wish to be loud.

At one time, I was satisfied with silence. I was happy to be alone with my thoughts because I would rather be a silent outcast than defy those superior over me. But now, as I sit in this auditorium, surrounded by lyrics and music and loud vibrations, I find myself disenchanted by the silence. It is no longer beautiful to me to sit in solitude and reflect on the poor choices I have made. I wish to speak up, and sing loud.

Sometimes there is tranquility in silence. But, for me, it has been silent for far too long. I have kept quiet because I simply listened and obeyed. Prolonged silence can be the fuel for a bloody revolt, as we have seen one hundred times over in history. It has been hundreds of years since the last revolution; are we in due time for one again?

Sommer smiles at me brightly, her skin glowing under the golden lights. She kisses her fingers and blows to me.

If you think that I'm wrong
This never meant nothing
To you
At all...

The music fades and she takes a bow. I rise to applaud. Before praising them of their excellent performance, I note their expressions, suddenly filled with panic.

"Uh..Metro..." Jagger looks at me, eyes wide. Sommer covers her mouth with both hands.

"What is the problem?" I question.

I glance around the room, startled at the sight of a figure to my right.

Julian glares at me critically through his curly red locks, arms crossed in disapproval.

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"Sound of Silence" is a classic, originally recorded by Simon & Garfunkel. I linked the More recent Disturbed version because its closer to the style Jagger would sing it.

Sorry guys--I know this chapter is really long. Do you think I should separate it into two parts?

Thanks so much for reading <3
I hope you're enjoying so far c:

Please critique me! I appreciate all the help I can get! :D