Your Voice

At half past six, we arrive back to Dylan's. I have a bag of warm Chinese food in my lap; it's almost too hot, making my wet pants itch against my thighs. I thought riding Tidal Wave might have been a bad idea, but it was loads of fun and Dylan's arm was wrapped around my shoulder and holding me close. Plus Dylan took his shirt off and rode the entire way back to his house shirtless and it was amazing. Honestly, he had tan skin and there were freckles on his shoulders and his body wasn't really muscular but it was at the same time, and he had a happy trail, and he just looked like a man and I wanted to kiss him. Repeatedly. With tongue and everything.

So I don't think Tidal Wave was much of a mistake.

When he parks, Dylan takes the food from me, offering a smile as he climbs out of the car. I follow him, grabbing my backpack from the back of the car. I follow behind him, shivering a bit in the cool air which makes me walk a bit faster. Dylan had the same idea as me, holding the door open when I get there. This makes me blush but I duck my head and go inside, suddenly nervous even though I've spent all day holding Dylan's hand and kissing him. Now that we're in the safety of his home, I'm suddenly a lot more on edge.

Gemma surprises me by turning the corner, grinning widely. She doesn't even get out a hello before she's pushing me out of the way and grabbing the Chinese, signing as she walks, "I'm starving."

I smile, shaking my head at her retreating form. Before I can follow her, Dylan rests a hand on my shoulder. Looking up at him, I see a gentle smile on his lips and I desperately want to kiss it, but instead I watch his hand movements. "You can go get in the shower first," he says. "I'll make Gemma wait to eat."

I nod hesitantly, and noticing this, Dylan chuckles. At least I assume he does, by the way his shoulders shake a little and his teeth show off. He takes my small, bony hand into his larger one, pulling me past the kitchen and to the small bathroom. I turn to look at him as he says, "I'll set the clothes on the counter after you've gotten in."

I nod, and Dylan leaves with a smile, causing me to step into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. For some reason my breaths are a little unsteady, but I shake my head repeatedly to try and get ahold of myself. It isn't that big of a deal; I'm just showering in the bathroom of the guy I like. Nothing too crazy.

I stare at myself in the mirror and blink slowly, taking in my features. I have a thin face, with a pointy chin and slightly sunken cheeks. My eyes are an average blue and my eyelashes are way too long, brushing my cheeks when I blink. My lips are a pale pink, like my cheeks are naturally, and they seem sort of chapped, but when I spread them out in a smile, show off my semi-white teeth, I don't hate what I see. Actually, I sort of like it. Dylan called me gorgeous last night, and he spent all day kissing me, so I feel good. I think that shows even just with my features.

I keep smiling even when I'm done looking at myself, and I find the towels under the sink. When I turn the water on, and the steam starts coming, I shiver. Taking off my clothes is hard because they're like a second skin, and when I've finally pulled them off there are goose-bumps on my arms and legs. I jump into the shower as quick as I can, not wanting to get frost bite or anything. It's an exaggeration, I know.

The water is warm, almost too warm but I like it that way, even though my skin starts turning pink. I stand under the spray for what feels like hours, letting it wash over me, and my eyes slip closed as I push my face into the spray. Along with the warm water, I let my memories wash over me.

I hadn't know what to expect when Dylan told me he'd be at my house at nine; I know he said he'd reserve the whole day for me, but I figured I'd come over that afternoon like I had the Sunday before. Instead he picked me up at my house at nine sharp and told me to dress warm. Secretly, and I'll never tell Dylan this, I loved the fact he made it a surprise. It seemed to me more intimate, and like he really put a lot of thought into what he was going to do. I felt special- and trust me, that's a rare occurrence. Feeling anything more than a burden or problem doesn't happen often for me.

But we went to Thorpe Park. Thorpe Park! I'd never even been there before! He probably spent a fortune on the tickets alone and that made me feel bad, but I was more preoccupied with the whole Thorpe Park thing. I'd never ridden on a rollercoaster before, I've never even been close to one, but there Dylan was offering me a whole day in the theme park. And he let me ride what I wanted to; even when I said Tidal Wave, which soaked us, he didn't say no. He just grabbed my hand and dragged me there himself.

I will admit that at first, I was put-off. We got in the park and I felt so distracted, as if I couldn't concentrate right. There were so many people that it disorientated me. It's not like I could hear all the noises or anything, but I think that's what made it worse. There was so much going on and I didn't have enough senses to balance it out. It probably would have been worse if I was blind instead of deaf, but it was still bad.

It's easy for me to get grounded, especially then when Dylan took my hand in his and I asked if we could go on Stealth. It was a tall ride and went so fast, I thought I would get whiplash. I'd wanted to hold Dylan's hand the entire time, scared because I couldn't communicate with him strapped in, but I was more preoccupied with holding onto my harness. It felt like I was going to fly right out and being so skinny didn't help. Of course I was more than safe, but it was still a scary thought. It felt like I'd slip right out and never be seen again.

Although it was the greatest day of my life, and it was without a doubt, I felt like it wasn't as good as it could have been. Not because I didn't go with the right person- Dylan was the perfect person to experience it for the first (and probably last) time with. He was so sweet and held my hand and signed to me like people weren't staring at us. But that's the thing; people were staring at us. Not so much because we were two boys holding hands, though don't worry that thought passed my mind more than once, but because to speak we used no words. I didn't anyway; Dylan still spoke because it was easier for me to interpret and I needed to get used to his use of language. People looked at us as if they'd never seen a deaf person communicate, and it was unsettling. I wanted to yell at them to leave me alone, but I haven't spoken since I was eight. And then there was the fact that it felt like, because I am deaf, I couldn't experience the theme park properly. On the rides, I couldn't hear everyone scream in terror. To be completely truthful I don't even know if I was screaming. My mouth had been wide open but I wasn't sure if I made sound or not. And it's sort of depressing, in a way, because it didn't have the full effect. I wished more than anything I could have the cochlear implant. So that I can hear Gemma squeal when I tell her about the date, so I can hear Dylan laugh, so that I can hear my mum sing early in the morning and my dad tell me he loves me, and so I could speak for myself and not be stuck in all this silence.

I shake my head, finally turning off the water and reaching out for the towel. I feel a lot better now, warmer, and I smell a little bit like Gemma. I thought her shampoo smelled better than Dylan's thought, at least for me, and I guess that's what I get. When I step out I see Dylan set a small stack of clothes on the counter, making me bite my lip. Soon I'd smell like Dylan instead; I couldn't tell you what wearing his clothes did to my stomach. It churned in butterflies of the best kind.

I slip his clothes on and even his boxers he offered me were too big. I had to pull the drawstrings as tight as they would go and even then the pants fell off my narrow hips a little bit, and the bottoms covered my entire foot because they were too long, but I sort of loved it. He gave me both a t-shirt and a hoodie, so I put both on and couldn't help but smile at the sight of myself. I definitely looked like a sight; the sweats were too long and the hoodie swallowed my entire frame. I was already really small, but compared to Dylan who was all broad shoulders, I looked like a pole. That was apparent enough by his clothes on me, yet I felt secure. Like the large clothing would keep me safe. From what, I don't know. And quite honestly, I don't think it mattered.

I step out of the bathroom slowly after hanging my towel on a rack, my cheeks heating up as I shuffle through the house to the kitchen. Sure enough, Dylan did make Gemma wait. He dished the Chow Mein onto separate plates and got water for us all to drink, although I was really craving some tea, which was weird. Dylan had changed into a t-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders and a pair of pajama bottoms, his hair messier than I remember it being. He grins when he sees me, motioning for me to sit at the table. Gemma smiles at me as well, wearing pigtails and pajamas too, and I blink when I realize she'd taken her sound processor out; meaning she was as deaf as I am right now.

Before I can ask about it, though, she's signing, "I have to save battery and it was bothering me anyway." I nod at this, though I don't entirely understand. She'd never taken it out when I was over late to save battery. But I guess if it was bothering her then that made sense; personally if I had the implant I don't think I'd ever turn it off. I'd be too fascinated. "The clothes look a bit big," she signs with a smirk, making my face heat up.

"Shut up," I sign, and if I spoke, it would be in a hiss. Gemma just smirks wider as if she's won something, and I want to reach across the table to hit her. I refrain, fortunately, and just take the plate once Dylan offers it. "Are you not going to shower?" I ask curiously, picking some at my food. I'm not particularly hungry but Dylan starts scarfing down as if he hasn't eaten in days, so I'm afraid I should be.

"I will later," Dylan says, signing with one hand. I can barely make out what he was saying but I get the gist; his mouth is half full of chow mein and his fingers are clumsy, but I find him sort of cute this way. When he finishes his mouthful, he leans up and wipes at his mouth, smiling sheepishly as he says more clearly, "I was too hungry to shower first, and I'm already practically dry."

"Probably from driving home without a shirt on," Gemma signs, grinning evilly as I blush bright red. For some reason she isn't speaking aloud like she usually would, and I can't help but think it's because she doesn't have her implant in. Dylan doesn't seem at all bothered by the fact that he's the only person here who is talking or can even hear, and for some reason this stumps me. I know it shouldn't, but I'm just not used to this behavior. So accepting of what his sister is; he doesn't care at all. He just loves her and that kind of blows my mind.

I want to experience something like that.

"How was the date anyway?" Gemma asks between bites of food, not even glancing up as she signs.

I blush lightly, picking at my food but not interested in eating it. Out of the corner of my eye I watch Dylan lift his hands to say, "It was great. I had a good time. Stealth is still my favorite," he has a little grin when he says this that makes me smile at my plate, butterflies in my stomach.

I blink when I see Gemma's hand dart into my line of view, and looking up I see her smiling at me. "Did you have a good time?" She asks.

My eyes widen when I see that Dylan is looking at me closely, as if he thinks I didn't have a good time. That was the last impression I wanted to give, and it makes me feel like such an awful person. Why can't I do anything right?

"I had an amazing time," I say quickly, glancing at Dylan to make sure he's watching. "I've never been before and it was probably the most fun I've ever had."

"You've never been before?" Gemma asks, eyes wide. I bite my lip and shake my head, feeling self-conscious. It seems to surprise her as much as it surprised Dylan, and I didn't want to tell them I'd never been because my parents didn't care. God knows what they'd think about that. "That's crazy. Why not?"

I shrug, not wanting to answer, but I sign anyway, "I guess we never had the money," which is a lie. I mean we don't exactly have a ton of money, but I'm sure we had enough to indulge in a trip to Thorpe Park at least once during my childhood. The problem was I was deaf; it's not like I could enjoy it properly. I'm sure that was the justification in my parents' minds. Yet today was the best day of my life, and I experienced it with Dylan. Not my parents; because they don't care.

I almost miss the concerned frown Dylan shares with Gemma, but I chose to ignore it.

"Well at least you got to experience it today," Gemma signs, smiling reassuringly at me. "I haven't been in ages. I'm pretty jealous! I thought of making Dylan take my too," she laughs, looking at her brother fondly but he just rolls his eyes.

She stands up then, making my eyes widen as I watch her. She says that she's gonna get in the shower and that when I was done eating, I should meet in her room. I want to follow her now, because I haven't touched my dinner and I don't think I will, but Dylan is also getting seconds and I don't want to leave him in here alone. I don't want to leave him, period.

I don't think he knew that Gemma texted me earlier in the day asking if I'd come over. She apparently wanted to tell me what happened with Chris today; she'd secretly had him come over while Dylan and I were out. I didn't feel right keeping this big secret, but she told me she'd tell Dylan about Chris when the time was right. Plus he never asked about Gemma today so I didn't exactly lie. Gemma had told me to bring my uniform for school and to just stay the night; truth be told I'd never stayed the night at someone's house. Before I got sick, my parents never thought I was old enough. And then I was never able to make friends, not even at my specialty school. I'd never slept in a bed other than my own a day in my life, and while staying with Gemma was kind of terrifying, I said yes. That meant before we went to school I'd see Dylan, right? And I'd take any opportunity to see him.

Dylan's hand on my knee startles me, making me look up from my untouched food with wide eyes. He smiles crookedly at me, shrugging his apology. "You okay?" He asks. I nod with a blush, resting my cheek against my fist as I stab some noodles but don't eat them. "Do you not like your food?" Dylan asks me, brow furrowed with that cute line. He moves his hand from my leg, and I suddenly miss the warmth it emitted.

"No, I do," I sign quickly, not wanting him to think I'm ungrateful. "I love Chinese. I'm just not really hungry," I suddenly feel awful, because Dylan went out and bought me this food and I haven't even touched it. I just can't help it if I'm not hungry though, can I?

"You're never hungry," Dylan says nonchalantly but it makes me duck my head in shame. He must notice this because he reaches over to grab my hand and signs rapidly, "I don't mean anything by it, it's just that you're skin and bones. When I was your age I ate four helpings of everything. I still do," he tries to smile as he adds on, attempting to lighten the mood.

I smile back at him, squeezing his fingers before I lift my hands to sign, "I'm honestly just never hungry. Or it doesn't take me long to get full."

"I know," Dylan whispers, staring at me intently. Somehow I'd gotten good at reading his lips so that I could tell the difference in the way he was talking. At least I could differentiate between him talking normally and when he spoke more gentle, like he did often around me. His lips were smoother, softer and there was barely a gap when he whispered, as if the words were slipping off his tongue like butter. But his eyes were the telltale sign, narrowing just the tiniest bit and looking like liquid when he was soft with me. I'd gotten good at observing the way Dylan spoke, as if I was trying to make up for the fact I couldn't hear him by being able to read his expressions. Yet still I wasn't able to read him and his thoughts like an open book; just his voice. How ironic.

Before I know what I'm doing, I begin signing, and I can feel my lips moving with some of the words as if I'm going to speak them out loud. "I got meningitis when I was seven going on eight. That's how I became deaf. There wasn't much they could do for me by the time I got into the hospital. The doctor even told my mom that with the amount of brain swelling I had, there was a chance I'd have learning difficulties. Which isn't true at all," I tact on, because I don't want Dylan thinking I'm stupid the way my parents thought. There was nothing wrong with me mentally, I was just as smart as every other person in A-levels. Just because I couldn't hear didn't mean anything. But Dylan doesn't smile; he just stares at me, as if looking past and reading my written-out soul. "It stunted my growth some, because of where the swelling occurred, and I'm just never hungry. It's not because I have a disorder," I say quickly, "it's just because I'm so small and skinny. There isn't much to be done about it." I don't know why I confess it all to Dylan, as if I'm pleading with him to understand. But being around him is just so easy; I want to let loose constantly. It's like he understands me though really we have nothing in common. My walls just come down, as if he's the sledgehammer running at them. And to be honest, although the prospect is both frightening and exciting, I can't wait for them to crumble. So long as Dylan doesn't mind the mess it will make.

Dylan sits up straight, gentle smile on his face. "I understand," he says and this time he is using his regular voice. "Do you think you could do me a favor?" He asks me, uncertain. I nod frantically; I think I'd do anything for him, no matter what he asked of me. "Do you think you could try eating a bit more?" When he sees the confused look I give him, he signs quickly, as if afraid he's offended me, "I mean eat a more healthy amount, and eat every meal please? Just try? For me? I don't want anything bad to happen to you and I was hoping you would be around for a long time, yeah?" His cheeks are a little pink, the second time I've seen him blush, and he is biting his lip as if afraid I'll get mad. Instead, I blush harder than I ever have in my entire life.

Needless to say, I ate pretty good that night.
~

It turns out Gemma just wanted to tell me she had a snog with Chris. Like I really wanted to know all the details, but she'd never done that with anyone before and she wanted to gush about it, so I let her. She nagged me for every single detail about mine and Dylan's day out, and I told her as much as I was able to. A few things I kept to myself, purely because they felt intimate, but she was satisfied in the end with what I told. She nodded her head and told me how much Dylan liked me, and I still wasn't too sure of that. If he liked me then why couldn't he just flat out say it? I needed it spelled out for me, otherwise I felt like I was reading everything wrong. Besides, I still didn't know where we stood with all this. Just because we kissed a dozen times and held hands in a theme park didn't mean we were anything official.

I try and stop my thoughts there though because the word boyfriend makes my heart hurt while at the same time making it thump erratically. I don't think I could handle those opposite emotions right now.

The next morning, Gemma wakes me up with a hand on my shoulder. I was too tired to get up, my feet still kind of aching from walking so much the day before. I was exhausted so much that I fell asleep about nine, without even knowing if Gemma was ready for bed or not. And I was still tired. I guess being coped up in your room your whole life and then suddenly going out into the real world did that to you. I think I could get used to it.

Gemma was ready, in her uniform and her make up done and sound processor in. She smiles brightly at me and tells me to get up, that she thinks Dylan was making breakfast. I blush at the prospect of finding him in the kitchen this morning, but do as she told me. I'd yet to skip a class and I did not plan on starting today.

For some reason, and I will never admit this, I wanted to wake up to Dylan, not Gemma. And I don't mean Dylan shaking me awake, either. I mean waking up to see his face inches from mine, still sleeping, and his bare shoulders peaking out of the covers. But I have to push those thoughts aside because they're crazy, aren't they? Dylan's just throwing a charity event, and even if he isn't he won't be stuck on me for long. He could do so much better.

I don't bother to do my hair, not caring if it's a mess, and slip my uniform on. I pout as I knot the tie, wishing I didn't have to wear the stupid thing. I would rather go to school in sweatpants, but I've been wearing uniforms my entire life. I should be used to them by now.

Sure enough, Dylan is setting the table when I finally get to the kitchen. He wears his work suit; a pair of form-fitting slack pants and a button down with a blue tie that looks great on him. His hair is done and his smile is huge, as if he got a lie in. I felt like the walking dead, but I smiled back at him nonetheless, taking my usual seat at the table and flopping down.

"Tired?" Dylan asks and I'm pretty sure he's laughing. He sits close to the table and sips at orange juice, tossing his tie over his shoulder so as not to get it dirty and I can't help but giggle lightly at him. He just smiles in return.

I see he'd given me a larger portion than I would have given myself, but I decide right then I'll eat it all. I'm actually hungry this morning and I don't want to disappoint Dylan. If eating like an actual sixteen-year old boy means he sticks around for a little longer, I'll do it. Even if I'm not the biggest fan of scrambled eggs. But who doesn't like bacon? I'll definitely eat all of that.

"You should feel special," Gemma says from across the table, grinning around her toast. She's actually speaking this morning, and I almost wish she wasn't. I would feel like less of an outcast. "Dylan never makes me breakfast."

"That's a lie!" Dylan says, glaring at her, but his cheeks are warm and I want to squeal because Dylan blushing is just so adorable. "I do make breakfast," he tries to convince me, though I don't believe him.

"It is not!" Gemma says, picking up a piece egg and throwing it at him. Dylan's glare turns more heated and I think this is the most I've seen them act like proper brother and sister. At least from what I think siblings should act like. "It's just because you're here, Kade! He's trying to impress you but don't be fooled." Too late, I think. I already am. I just smile at her and then she says, "He's even going to give us a ride to school! And you know I usually walk."

"It's cool out," Dylan pouts, picking at his eggs. "I don't want you to freeze, Kade doesn't have a proper coat with him."

"Yeah," I finally speak up, grinning widely. Dylan and Gemma look at me oddly as I nod at the eldest. "You better finish that," I say, jabbing my fork in the direction of his plate. Dylan looks down at it and then back at me; I wink and when the slow grin works its way onto his face, I feel accomplished.

By the time we get into the car, I'm so full I'm afraid I'll throw up. It is freezing out, I note as we head outside. Dylan is swinging his car keys around and I briefly wonder if this means he'll be late for work, but I'm not about to complain about a ride to school. I can't remember the last time I had one; at least since I started A-levels. There was a bus I road for the specialty school.

Gemma surprises me when she climbs into the back, making my cheeks heat up. This means I'll be in the front with Dylan, right? Why would she do that? It's not like we're dating or anything. (A thought I refuse to linger on). But Dylan is grinning so I climb in anyway, rubbing my hands together for warmth. The blazer I wore did nothing for me; being skin and bones meant I was always cold, I'm pretty sure.

The ride is silent, though I think Dylan's put the radio on. He is nodding his head along to whatever beat is playing, and when I check in the back Gemma is moving her lips as if singing along. I feel left out, but then I slowly, hesitantly, reach my hand over to press my fingertips against the speaker in Dylan's door; I can feel the slight vibrations, leading me to believe the music isn't loud by any means. I stare at my fingers, feeling the music rather than hearing it. And I think I enjoy myself just as much as the siblings do.

When we get to school, Gemma hops out without even a goodbye, though I suspect she was running to meet Chris. She was pretty smitten over him, but I was the same way about her brother so I wasn't going to complain. Besides, Chris was really nice and his sign language was getting somewhat better. Dylan looks over at me with a gentle smile, and he reaches his hand across the console to take my own freezing one, chuckling lightly.

"You're as cold as ice," he says, pulling my one hand over to encompass in both of his.

I smile like an idiot, blood rushing to my cheeks as I stare at the way his hands are so much different than mine. I don't have tiny hands or anything, they're proportionate to my size, but my fingers are bony and long. Dylan's are bigger, both in width and in length, and his palms can cup around my hand until it disappears. All I can do is stare, because hands are my form of communication and they're kind of a beautiful thing.

"You're going to be late to work," I sign with the hand he doesn't hold, still staring.

Dylan shrugs, dropping my hand so he can speak to me properly. I focus on his lips though, watching as they move. "I think I'll be okay, I haven't been late a day in my life." He smiles crookedly at me and I just about melt. We stare at each other for what feels like forever, my hand slipping back between Dylan's to warm up. He leans closer to me, his breath blowing over my cheeks. I want to lean into it, to press against his chest and feel his arms wrap around me. And Dylan must be thinking the same thing, because the next thing I know he's kissing me.

It's not a 'snog' like Gemma described, and it's innocent, but it's different than the day before. One of his large hands cup my cheek and mine rests against his elbow, and we hold it for a lot longer. Our lips aren't as still, but this time move together, like they're dancing and I don't care how sore my feet still are.

When he finally pulls away, my chest is heaving. I shouldn't be this breathless from one kiss, but it feels so different than from before. And that's proven when Dylan raises his hands and asks me, "Will you be my boyfriend?"

Stunned, I sit there. My hands are in my lap and my mind is racing. Boyfriend entitles so many things, doesn't it? It means no one can take Dylan away from me. It means he isn't just going to disappear on me. It means we aren't this complicated mess of things that confused me. Dylan actually likes me, doesn't he? I've been begging for him to spell it out for me; what are we? And here he is, offering it to me in his car in the middle of the car park, his caramel eyes somewhat scared but his face confident.

Without lifting my hands from my lap, for the first time since I was eight, I say, "Yes."