Loud and Clear

Fade in; lights are flashing in strobe motions making everything look like it’s happening in slow motion, everything jittery and uneven. The music blares out at you and hits you in the face with the loud thump-a-thump-a-thump of the bass providing a steady pulsating beat for every single person on the dance floor who were dancing, grinding, jumping along together, happy with where they were.

They talked, and laughed and made friends with the guy to the left of the crowd who had the same taste in music as you, or made enemies with the woman who was so obviously flirting with your boyfriend.

Zoom in to the bar; a boy sits. He’s not allowed to be there. He’s only sixteen. He had a group of older friends who’d invited him along to this ‘awesome club’ that had just opened up. They weren’t exactly his friends, they were his boyfriend’s friends, but that didn’t matter, because he’d been quickly accepted into the group. Frank declined their offer; he wouldn’t go without Gerard, not while he was out of town. They insisted and pleaded him to come along, claiming that it wouldn’t be the group without him, promising that they’d stay with him. He’d still declined; what use was he at a club?

In the end, they’d gone behind his back and snagged him a fake ID, explaining to him how much effort they went through to get it and how there was just no way he could miss out now. Frank would admit that he would’ve felt bad if all of the effort they’d put into getting him the fake ID was all down to nothing, so he’d come along.

He sat grumpily on a bar stool, sipping away at a Diet Pepsi, nothing too flash. He’d realised a while ago that he wasn’t in the best situation to be drinking alcohol.

His friends had ditched him, more interested on looking for someone to dance with, something to sleep with as opposed to keeping the friend they’d forced along company. He couldn’t even nod his head or tap his foot in beat with the music that was playing.

People kept approaching him, asking him to dance, and asking him if he wanted another drink – something more exciting than a Pepsi. Several minutes they’d stand there, talking at him, asking why he wasn’t talking to them before getting bored of that, storming back across the room to their friends claiming that “the guy at the bar was an asshole.”

This wasn’t the case. It didn’t matter how long they would have stood there talking at Frank, Frank wouldn’t have responded. Frank probably didn't even know they were there. Frank couldn’t hear them.

He’d been deaf since birth. People often told him that it didn’t matter so much that way, that way he didn’t have anything to miss, but can you imagine going through a whole life...never hearing your mother’s voice? Never hearing your boyfriends laugh? Can you imagine going through a whole life not knowing what the leaves under your feet or the raindrops on your window sounded like? Only ever experiencing half of a thunderstorm, half of the fireworks display?

A man popped up next to him, tapping his shoulder. That was a better way to get Franks attention. He was pretty good a lip-reading, but was struggling to understand what the man in front of him was saying because he’d missed the beginning of the sentence.
The man’s mouth stopped, and he looked at Frank expectantly, who just stared back at him, a blank expression on his features causing the man to frown. Frank felt humiliated, this wasn’t his fault.

He slowly pointed at his ear before pulling a notepad and a pen out of his pocket, he’d gotten used to taking it around for when he couldn’t be bothered to try and read someone’s lips. Unless it was Gerards, he could never get bored of watching them as they moved; the way they curved and the shapes they formed with each and every word.

I’m deaf he wrote on the paper causing the man to frown again, taking the pen into his own hand.

Why couldn’t you just tell me that? he replied.

Frank stared at the man a blush creeping across his features. That was something else about him. Frank didn’t talk. He could, but he didn’t. He was paranoid. He couldn’t hear his own voice, so he never knew whether he was talking too loudly or too quietly. He never knew if his voice was completely stupid, really high-pitched or really low. Could you imagine living your whole life never knowing what your own voice sounded like?

He spoke to Gerard sometimes, but that wasn’t too often. Even around him, he was paranoid about his voice. Sometimes he’d let a laugh or a giggle slip, and that always made Gerard laugh.
Apparently he had a cute laugh, a girl-ish giggle. Frank didn’t know if this was good or bad. He’d never heard a ‘girlish giggle’.

He looked up to see that the man who was originally standing there had gone, but he didn’t mind. He opened up the first page of the notebook, smiling as he saw the familiar writing of his lover.

I got you a present it read. The present had in fact been the note book. Gerard had known how frustrated Frank got when he couldn’t understand what someone was saying, and hoped to ease the pressure off of him a bit.

Franks messy scrawl was underneath the artist’s handwriting, Thank You followed by a small heart. He appreciated what Gerard had done for him, but he also couldn’t help but feel that it was slightly patronising. The way people always had to speak slowly around him as if he were stupid, or take the extra time to write down messages, sometimes super long paragraphs explaining things that would be simple if only Frank could hear.

He flicked through the pages of the book, and became faintly aware of someone standing next to him trying to get his attention. They were just talking at him though, as well as using many hand gestures, but Frank felt like ignoring them.

He wanted to get a sign with an arrow that just pointed at him screaming ‘yes this boy is deaf!’

He came to one of the most recently filled pages in the book, and smiled sadly, thinking back to that day.
I’m sorry Frank had written.

For what baby?

For never listening.

He could remember the look of sadness that had crossed his boyfriends face; the way he instantly pulled Frank into his arms and whispered things in his ear. That just made Frank hurt more. He was sure that he wasn’t supposed to know that Gerard was whispering to him, but the unmistakable feeling of lips upon his ear, moving quickly and softly against his lobe as Gerard frantically spoke unheard words was what gave it away.

“I love you,” Frank had whispered...or yelled. He wasn’t sure, he couldn’t know.

It was obviously loud enough for Gerard to hear because he pulled away from Frank slightly, wiping the tears that Frank didn’t know had fallen from under his eyes with his thumbs before leaning in a placing a short kiss on his lips.

When he pulled away, Frank couldn’t help but stare up at him with so much admiration. Not many people could actually cope with being with someone who couldn’t even hear them and who rarely spoke.

Frank had often wondered why Gerard even bothered. His question was answered though; by four words that Frank refused to let Gerard write. He always wanted him to say it, out loud and for the world to hear. He wanted to see Gerard’s lips form the words that he loved more than any other, although he’d never heard them.

“I love you too,”

Thinking back on that day, Frank no longer cared how alone he felt right now at the bar with the people who thought he was weird or rude, or the people who would always treat him solely as if he had a disability, because he knew that he wasn’t alone. He knew that he had people who cared for him, and even though they were out of town or too busy chatting up a girl across the room, he truly believed that these were the people who he could always hear. Loud and clear.