Author's Note: Hey guys; I found a Raven Cycle One-Shot I wrote a while back and decided to post it. Both of my other stories should be updated soon; a few technical problems meant most of my work got deleted. The Horror! Anyway, this is written from a third-person view like the books and looks at Gansey. I have conflicted feelings on him but find him easy to write.

Disclaimer: I do not own Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater is my idol!

There are three types of silence in existence. The first is the normal kind: the kind that is chosen. Someone or something decides to ignore everything around it and remains mute. He is good at being quiet when it is needed. He does not indulge in it but understands the effect it has on people: it can entice and charm people as well as scold and terrorize them. His quiet presence is sought after as a conversation piece; a floral display put out for scrutiny at a later dinner party. He is a doll; forever smiling but unfeeling inside. He is a prop for the use of others in their social exploits.

The second form of silence is ever-present but oft ignored; forgotten by those it concerns. This silence sulks at the back of a person's mind, slowly absorbing their whole being. This is loneliness. He knows this type of silence all too well. It claws at his mind, stabs at his heart. It is the reason he can't sleep. The reason he scours the mountains for Glendower. The reason he is dying inside. He is not strictly alone, but he must shoulder not only his own problems but those of others. He gets no return except his hope and affection mutilated in his face. He tries to repent for his wealth and condescending nature – his efforts in vain. He does try to not be patronizing; he just can't help it. It's the way he was raised – engraved in his genes. He sits in his room wondering what he did wrong. His family doesn't see what's wrong, they push him till he breaks but they don't see. They don't see how much he hates dinner parties and luncheons and all things involved with being a Gansey. They will never know of course: he's good at hiding, thanks to silence.

The final kind of silence is the simplest. No one has ever known this silence yet all know it is real. It is feared by many although it is inevitable. He was torn from this silence by Glendower – he searches now for the reason why. He narrowly evades this silence on a daily basis - lurking in the corner of his eye; daring him to close his eyes. There is only one place this silence may exist: death. He longs for this silence.