Your Voice

If I wanted to get away from Dylan, I probably shouldn't have run off to his room. But I was more comfortable in here than I was anywhere else in the house, and I couldn't very well run off to my own house. I would certainly rather be here than there, especially if I'm crying.

It's not like I'm sobbing, but I definitely have tears falling from my eyes. I've never been a full-on sobbing type person. It's a lot more private than that, and it's usually silent. Not that I can hear it or anything, but I know I don't make noise. I don't make noise period, crying is no exception. But my cheeks are still wet, despite the fact I continuously wipe them.

I'm not sure if my hurt feelings are justified or not. Dylan pretty much called me a freak to my face. Maybe not in so many words, but that's definitely how it felt. He at least called me abnormal, implied that I'm an easy target because I can't hear. Implied that I'm less. Or that's how it felt!

I'm not disabled, I'm not an idiot, I'm not vulnerable. I'm deaf. Just deaf. What's so hard to understand about that?

I wipe at my cheeks again, ultimately just smearing the tears, when out of my side vision I see Dylan's bedroom door open. I rapidly smear them all around in hopes you can't tell, I turn to see Dylan peak his head through the crack in the door. When I don't make a move to throw a pillow at him, he slowly steps inside and shuts the door behind him. I know he notices the wetness on my cheeks as soon as his lips pull into a semi-familiar frown, his feet stuttering in step as if he wants to come to me. I hate that he hesitates, but at the same time I don't want him touching me just yet.

"What?" I sign weakly when he refuses to say anything, looking down at my lap. I've got the blanket pulled over myself, sitting up against the headboard with my legs crossed. It's like a comfort position, though I still don't stop crying.

Dylan slowly walks over to me, but thankfully he doesn't move to embrace me. He sits at the foot of the bed, just on the edge so his feet can hang over and rest on the ground. At first, he doesn't say anything. I don't look at him, just wipe at my tears in a futile attempt to control them. I don't want Dylan seeing me as any more weak than he already apparently does. I should have known; hearing people never understand. Not even Dylan.

When he finally signs, I've gotten my crying more under control. At least only the odd tear or two falls now, and I am breathing regularly again. Dylan says, "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean it the way it came out."

"You did," I argue, not making eye contact as my hands move fluidly albeit weakly. "Or you wouldn't have said it." It's the truth; Dylan would have been fine with me cuddling innocently with a friend if I could hear. But since I'm deaf it's a completely different story; because I'm not normal- and you know what?

Dylan's right. I'm not.

And he certainly rubbed that in my face, didn't he?

Dylan sighs, his shoulders slumping low and eyebrows drawing together. I don't like the look on him, but there isn't much I could do. What he said, is it forgivable? That's the golden question, I guess. And it's all coming down to me right now, in these few seconds. What am I suppose to say? What am I suppose to do? I've never so much as had a friend to argue with, now I suddenly had minor relationship issues. Which weren't that minor in my mind. Dylan crossed a line... He really hurt me.

"I'm sorry," he says again, as if that's going to help his case. But looking as pathetic as he does, it just might. "I don't know what to say. I just worry about you, about you being taken advantage of in general. I don't think it has anything to do with you being deaf."

I shake my head, reaching up to wipe my last tear away. I can't let Dylan see me cry any more, I don't know what it's doing to him and I don't want to appear as weak as I honestly am. Not to Dylan- not to the guy who is my hero. "No Dylan- you said plain as day because I am deaf people are going to take advantage of me easier than a non deaf person!"

"Well you're more vulnerable!"

"I am not vulnerable!" I yell. Not verbally of course, but my fist slams down against my left hand as I sign, and I'm sure there's the sound of skin slapping skin heard. You can always tell when a deaf person is upset based on how harsh their hand movements are. And mine are not fluid. I'm sure my facial expressions are dramatic as well. Gemma told me once I did that often. I run a hand through my hair, taking deep breaths to calm myself down.

When I look back at Dylan, he's nodding. "You're right," He signs and says, scooting just a little closer to me on the bed. For a split second, one of his hands runs over my ankle before moving back up to continue signing. "You aren't more vulnerable than anyone else, and that scares me Kade. I don't want to lose you- I can't even think how to explain myself right now. I just- I'm so afraid that you'll be gone, and I won't know what to do with myself."

"Dylan," I breathe, in actual words, and his eyes squeeze shut. Without so much as a second thought, I surge forward to trap Dylan's face in my hands. His jawline is a little scratchy, and I smile at the texture. His dark eyes slowly open, lashes casting a shadow over his cheeks as he looks at me unsurely. I smile gently, running my thumb over his stubble. I pull my hands away to sign but keep our faces close. "Don't be silly. Chris is a friend and nothing more than a friend, okay? I've told you this ten times." Dylan nods slowly, hands reaching out to grip my waist. I smile, letting him pull me close to him and halfway in his lap, that little line between his brow that I love so much visible. I lean forward to kiss it, smiling to myself. "I'm not going anywhere unless you get rid of me." And I have to add the last part because it's a possibility, isn't it? I think that's the only way I'll inevitably leave. Dylan will be the one to end this relationship.

"That won't happen," he signs with one hand, kissing me for the first time since we fought. Which in retrospect was only ten minutes ago. But it still felt like an eternity. I kiss him back happily, glad that all is forgiven. Was I too easy on him? Maybe, but maybe not. I don't want to give Dylan a reason to leave me, and being a prissy brat over a misinterpreted statement might make that happen.

Dylan grips my hips, pushing me onto my back. My head falls onto the pillows and I think I let out a breathy moan, my hands cupping Dylan's neck. He lays himself over me, our feet touching and his torso pressing down on my own. I love feeling him like this, feeling him so close and so strong above me. It always feels like we're connecting on a new level. And his tongue probing my lips definitely helps.

Before he can take this further, I gently push on his chest, coaxing him to lean back. Dylan pouts down at me, making me giggle. I bet he can hear it too, if his twitching lips is anything to go by. He pecks another kiss to my lips before rolling off me, to the side so he can face me. I hadn't meant for him to move exactly, I'd only wanted to say something.

"Will you drop the Chris thing?" I ask, turning on my side as well and widening my eyes as I wait for him to answer.

Several emotions pass Dylan's face, but he finally says, "I can't help but feel insecure over him. Worry over him. I think I'm the jealous type," he bites his lip and looks so darn cute, I can't help but peck a quick kiss to his lips.

When I pull back I shake my head and sign, "Trust me, nothing is happening there. He's completely straight."

"How do you know?"

I open my mouth and then close it. What am I suppose to say? I know because he's Gemma's boyfriend. But that's not acceptable. Gemma doesn't want Dylan to know about Chris for some ungodly reason, which I might should address. Especially if it's going to keep causing problems like this. Instead of telling the truth, however, I sigh and say, "I just know."

Dylan rolls his eyes, obviously not accepting this answer. I want to yell at him to stop being an idiot, but instead keep my mouth closed. "I don't trust him. He's too cuddly with you for it to just be friendly. I don't like it."

I want desperately to scream and yell, tell him Chris was dating his sister and held no interest in me. Point out that I already barely had friends and he didn't like one of the only two! But instead I shake my head and sigh. I should just drop it. Talking about it further will only make things worse, and the last thing I want is Dylan tiring over his teenage boyfriend.

"We should just drop it," I say, and though Dylan hesitates, he nods. I smile, reaching out to grab his hand in one of mine. My eyes droop some, though it feels like all I've done so far today is sleep. I was certainly a little hung-over as last night as the first time I ever drank. But Dylan was nothing but sweet to me. I really didn't deserve him. "My head hurts," I sign lazily with one hand, barely recognizable. But Dylan chuckles, showing his teeth. He leans forward to kiss my forehead before wrapping his arm around my waist, pulling me close to his chest. I smile, snuggling close with my head under his chin and nose nuzzling into his collarbone.

I think, despite having just fought, this is one of my favorite memories of us. And before I know it, I'm falling back asleep.
~

Dylan must have been watching Netflix while I slept, because when I woke up credits were rolling for some movie. I rub my eyes and lean up, smiling to myself when I realize Dylan must have fallen asleep. His head was at an awkward angle that couldn't have been comfortable, mouth open and I guessed he was snoring. Luckily I couldn't hear so it didn't bother my own slumber. He looks cute anyway. And when exactly did he have time to slip his shirt off?

Running a hand through my hair, I get out of bed, careful not to wake Dylan. He jerks a little, but ultimately rolls over and goes back to sleep. Which is good, maybe now he won't have a crick in his neck. I smile, shaking my head as I grab a random hoodie on the ground and slip it over my head. It's definitely Dylan's I realize as it hits me mid-thigh and dwarfs my skinny frame. And it sort of smells like him, maybe I take a sniff maybe I don't. Either way, I pull the sleeves over my hands and go in search of my best friend.

I find Gemma in her room, and I'm nervous to talk to her but I know it's the right thing. She's sitting on the bed on her laptop, staring at the screen as if it holds the answers to the universe. I can tell right away she doesn't have her sound processor in, which is such a weird sight. But it means she wouldn't hear me even if I did knock. We're equals right now, exactly the same.

I step inside and then wave my hand a little to the left. She blinks and looks over at me, smiling once she realizes who it is. Politely, she closes her screen just a touch and signs, "What's up?" I want to laugh because the exchange feels like it's between relatives, not best friends.

I smile, tucking my hands into the pocket of the hoodie before shrugging. I take a look around her room, stepping inside and walking toward her bed. I sigh as I sit down, shaking my head. Gemma laughs and tosses her hair behind her ear, exposing her bare ear. Sometimes I wonder what it's like to go from hearing to deaf. And I wish I could experience it first hand. But I never will.

"I just wanted to talk," I say, biting the inside of my cheek nervously. I think that I am more confident to approach Gemma on subjects than I am Dylan, but at the same time our relationships are completely different. Gemma is suppose to be a best friend, right? There to listen to me through whatever. And sure Dylan is a boyfriend and is suppose to stick through thick or thin, but he has a lot bigger chance of leaving me than Gemma does.

Or maybe I'm just a coward.

Gemma nods, laughing again as she sets the laptop aside and moves beside me, sitting crisscross-applesauce. "Well I'm all ears," she jokes, and I can't help but genuinely laugh at the irony of it. Neither of us can hear, and she said she's all ears... It's a morbid type of funny and really I should be crying. Had a hearing person said it I would have been offended. But things are different with Gemma. I think that's the reason we clicked so well.

"It's about Chris," I sign slowly, and Gemma's face falls as if to ask me what. I gulp, staring into her dark eyes all of two seconds before looking away. "And Dylan," I sign. I'm not sure if she's still following but I'm too scared to look. "You and Chris have been together for awhile now... Don't you think it's time Dylan knew?"

Gemma instantly shakes her head, moving to pull her knees to her chest. I furrow my brow as I stare at her; is she serious? "No way. Dylan would freak. I'm not telling him.

"Well,," I sign, making an obvious hand gesture. "It would do me some favors if you would. Considering Dylan is obsessed with the idea of Chris being into me."

"He's an idiot," she signs, shaking her head. "That's just his jealousy coming out. I've never seen him with a boyfriend so I didn't know he'd act that way. But that doesn't mean I need to tell him about us. Dylan would just over react and I'm not ready to have to break up with my first boyfriend."

Is she serious right now? I love Gemma, but maybe she should think about someone other than herself for once. "I'm asking you to tell him." I say, turning to give her a look. I'm not backing down any more, and I'm not going to be shy about this. Gemma's relationship might just save mine, if she would just tell Dylan the truth. Then he'd realize Chris is straight and would have no problems between the two of us... Just problems between Gemma and Chris spending time together. That wasn't selfish of me, was it? To want the tables to be turned so I can be happy again? Surely I deserved some breathing room too.

"And I'm saying no," she signs back, shrugging as if that's the end of it.

And it kind of pisses me off- a lot.

"Are you kidding me?" I ask, making a face and leaning away from her. Gemma seems confused but I refuse to let her play the victim here. "Because you're afraid to tell Dylan about your boyfriend, I have to suffer?"

"Don't be stupid," she rolls her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ear again. "This thing with Dylan will pass. He'll realize Chris is only a friend and the two of you will go back to fucking."

I'm appalled at her language, but more than that I'm just flat out upset. Why can't I ever catch a break? "So what you're saying is pretty much that you will let Dylan continue on with this idea that Chris is gay and he's into me, and that you'll let him take away one of my two friends? Rather than tell the truth?"

"Dylan can't stop you from being friends!"

"It upsets him enough!" I yell, standing up. Once more my signs are precise and heavy, making Gemma's eyes widen up at me. Dylan's seen me fierce once or twice, but Gemma has definitely only seen my submissive personality. She probably doesn't know how to react, but I could care less right now. You know, for once, I would appreciate it if I didn't draw the short straw. I would like to be selfish every once in awhile! But it looks like I'm always going to be stuck here. I glare down at Gemma, my mouth curling up a little as I shake my head. "You know what? Forget it. I'll keep your dirty little secret for as long as I can. Because soon I'm sure Dylan will just ask me to leave. But at least you're happy." Maybe that isn't fair; Dylan won't break up with me over jealousy issues with Chris. But Gemma could be a little more selfless and maybe help me out.

I watch her face crumble and her hands reach up to sign, but I'm not sticking around to listen to her excuses. Rolling my eyes, I wave my hand dismissively and turn to leave. I don't know if she calls me back, or if she tries to stop me, because I slam the door behind me and head back to Dylan's room. Forget her. Forget Chris. Forget everyone.

I've always been better off alone.

In Dylan's room, he's woken up. He's leaned back against the headboards, rubbing his eyes. He looks at me blearily and smiles, and I try to muster one up back. I stand at the door, unsure what to do. But Dylan asks me where I went, and I shrug. I want to tell him that I went to talk to Gemma about coming out to him with Chris, but that would be wrong of me to do. It isn't my secret to keep, no matter how heavy the burden on my shoulders. "To talk to Gemma," is all I say as I walk toward him, smiling timidly. "Will you hold me?"

Dylan's brow furrows, and he stares at me in confusion. But rather than say or deny me anything, he just opens his arms. I fall into them, laying on top of him and knowing he could handle the weight. My head comes to rest against his chest, ear just above where I should hear his heartbeat. I can't, but I pretend for a moment, that I can. And it soothes me.