People make a lot of noise.
Not talking. Other noises. Heats beating, chests exhaling, eyes blinking, stomachs gurgling…
Noises that mean you're alive.
He doesn’t want to make his friends uneasy. So he times his breaths to the beat of Wes' heart, counts silently in his head as he blinks, shifts position whenever Cordy slants her eyes toward him.
At night, alone in his room, he drops the pretense. Even rocks eventually crumble. If the entirety of your existence can best be explained by everything you're not what does that even mean?
He wonders if he's really there at all.