Hear Me - Part One
Title: Hear Me
Part: 1/9
Rating: R for language, themes and sex
Summary: I can't speak. I mean that literally. I am literally incapable of doing so.
Daniel's life changes dramatically in a few months. His sister has changed. His best friend has changed. He's fallen in love. He's fallen apart. His one constant suddenly isn't just a constant. (This is a REALLY bad summary about this. Honestly, just give it a go! It gets better after this chapter!!
PART ONE
I can't speak.
I mean that literally. I'm not talking about shock or surprise. I am literally incapable of doing so. I was born lacking that ability and the doctors never really found out why. There was absolutely nothing wrong with my hearing; in fact, it was very good. I was simply born that way. I remember that the doctors told me why once, when I had made the signs that I wanted to know, but I didn't pay attention. All it meant was that I wouldn't be able to speak. They told me that when I was old enough, I could have an operation to try and give me some sounds. We declined that offer, as the surgery was more likely to kill me, seen as how sensitive that area was.
But that doesn't matter. I can still communicate with people. My whole family has learnt signing, in order to communicate with me. Or rather, so I could communicate with them. I also do a lot of writing, if the person can't understand what I'm trying to say.
The fact that I can't talk has little impact on my life now. At home, it means that at least one of the children won't talk back. Of course, I can sign it, but if my parent's can't hear it, they don't care.
In addition to that, my sisters make more than enough noise to cover my lack thereof. I have two younger sisters, Charlotte and Amy. Charlotte is three years my junior, being fourteen. Sometimes, she likes to say she's only two years younger, because her birthday is months before mine. In other words, I'm still sixteen, and she's fourteen, despite my being in grade twelve, and her only being in grade nine.
We get along reasonably well, mostly because I don't argue back. She takes after our mother, while I take after our father. He's the more submissive and quiet of the two, as I was with my sister. The only thing she got from him that I didn't was the height. Our father was tall, while our mother, who was short, made up for her lack of elevation in personality. I was short, and couldn't express my personality properly. Charlotte was taller than I was, and had enough personality for four people.
She's loud, obnoxious, although she lacks self-esteem. She's relatively smart, but nothing to brag about. She passes school, although she doesn't seem to give a damn about it. She's sporty, to a degree. She does school sports, but it's always more of a social activity than anything else. She has no musical ability whatsoever. She can barely sing along with the radio. What she does have, however, is the looks. She is one of the most beautiful people I have ever met.
What I love about her beauty is the fact that she's natural. A lot of the girls I know apply loads of makeup, tart themselves up, and then, they look alright. She just has the hair, and this smile, those lovely eyes, and the structure that screams perfection.
Me… I'm another species altogether. Like her, I'm pretty. Now, pretty is okay, but well it's not okay when you're a boy. I have a figure that's even more slender than Charlotte's, with an even better bone structure. She has dark hair, while mine is a very pale blonde. We both have blue eyes, because both of our parents have them; it was inevitable. Mine are greyer, while hers are the purest blue.
I guess I don't really help my androgynous appearance much. I let my hair grow long enough that I pull it up for school (much to the irritation of those stickler-for-rules teachers; well, there is no rule that says I can't pull it back!). In addition to its length, I have it layered, so it looks very similar to those of some anime bishounen.
Add this to the fact that I'm musical and everything and you get yourself, me, a pretty little creature. Not that I mind. It's just nearly had me raped twice. But hey, it didn't happen, so that's all okay. Well, to a degree.
The newest member of our family came thirteen, nearly fourteen years after my birth. She was an accident, considering our mum didn't even think she could get pregnant. Needless to say, she did, and poof! Nine months later, Amy was born.
She's such a little doll. She is what makes a person wonder why people have children, while at the same time makes you want to have kids of your own. She can be so annoying, but you can't help but love her to death. She gets spoilt rotten, but only because she's so cute. Already, you can tell that she's going to take after Charlotte in the looks department. She's already gorgeous, although at this age, its cuteness, not beauty. Time will change that though.
My mum is a matriarch, although in a good way. Like my sisters, she is incredibly beautiful, which is fairly good, considering that she is nearly fifty. She's a lecturer at a university, in teaching, as a part-time job, so she can look after Amy for another year. When Amy goes to kindy next year, she'll become a full-time professor.
Dad is the main bread-winner I suppose. He is a computer technician, a bit of a geek, but hey, who cares? He's quiet, and just sits back and watches as everything unfolds. He never says much, but when he does, it's usually worth listening to. I find him to be a very enlightening person.
But anyway, that's my family. We're nothing too special or different to the next, but I still love us.
We live in a small set of apartment buildings on the edge of the city. You know, the area just before it’s the city, but not quite suburbia either? Yeah. It's nice and just big enough for each of us to live comfortably. We'll probably be moving soon, seen as my parents were finally blessed with a kid that loves to run around all the godamn time! Amy will be the sporty one, without a doubt.
I played soccer up until last year, when I decided that I didn't have time for regional training. I was good enough to get on the best team in town, while my best friend actually got on the state team; he stills plays though. I'm limited to playing for a club once a week, basically so I don't get fat, something regarded as an almost crime in my house.
Amy is one ball of energy, and my parents have decided that we should move to suburbia so that she can play as much as she wants. She'll be going to kindy out there too, so it'll be nice for her to play with her friends.
My parents didn't allow me to start kindergarten when other children did, for fear that I'd be picked on, and of course, being unable to speak, they'd have no way of knowing. I also couldn't write, so all I could do was make clumsy hand signs. The doctors convinced them to let me go, so I could get used to other children, I mean, besides my little sister, who was barely two at the time.
On that first day, it wasn't that I was just shy. We all know how little kids don't say anything when they're shy, well I couldn't even speak. Even if I weren't shy, I wouldn’t have been able to speak.
I was terrified. They made so much noise! Charlotte made a lot of noise, but that was because she was a baby. After coming from a house where Charlotte was the only real source of noise, it was a strange experience. They all ran around, laughing, screaming, talking, singing even (I swear, there were butterflies surrounding them!)
I kept my brave façade up until mum left me. For an hour, I sat in the playground, not talking to anyone, not looking at anyone. The jungle gym was huge, and a good place to hide, but too many kids went through it. I had resigned myself to sitting under one of the big trees around.
I can't remember what I was doing but I heard someone say my name. I looked up and saw a boy standing there, holding out his hand. He was smiling and I couldn't understand why. I pointed a finger at myself, a silent ask if he was speaking to me. He nodded and held the hand out further.
"Play with me?" He asked, still smiling.
Shocked, I nodded. He smiled wider, and pulled me up to my feet. He introduced himself as Damien, and he already knew my name, as I'd been introduced that morning to the class.
Ever since that day, we've been best friends. It started off as a completely dependant relationship, with me clinging to him. But as time progressed, I became more confident, and somehow, I helped him. He never seemed to care that I couldn't speak, never really became impatient. It was as if we were normal friends, as if he'd forgotten that I couldn't speak.
From that first week, I taught him the hand signs I knew, and to this day, whenever I learn a new one, I teach him, so we can communicate properly. He became my mouth to the outside world; he understood me even better than my parents.
At school, we were in the same class until grade three. But then, they split us up, which is generally what happens in schools. But the teacher found it too difficult to teach me, so we were put back to sharing a class within a week.
I was fortunate enough that I didn't ever have to go to the special education unit. I could work as well as any student with the only hindrance being that I couldn't answer questions quickly, or do oral presentations.
I was picked on a few times between now and then, but I found that more often than not, people were willing to stand by my side. I guess it came from the fact that I couldn't disagree with people, so they liked that. The world has enough talkers, I was told, and it needed more listeners.
Damien and I weren't the most popular people in school, but we weren't hated or shunned. We were about average on the social scale, if not higher. Damien was considered "totally hot" and I was considered "really cute". We had our share of girls after us.
We got average grades, occasionally excelling in some areas, falling in others. Damien was quite good at sport, and I was very good at music. Damien did soccer and football while I played the violin. I was good at math and English, but oddly, did terribly in science, while Damien topped chemistry and biology for three years, thereby earning him the science award each time. I got myself the music and English award too. Damien almost failed English, and probably would have, had I not edited every single one of his assignments.
We did just about everything together, and now that I think of it, I'm surprised we never got sick of each other. Of course, we had fights, but nothing that lasted more than an hour.
When I say we do everything together, I mean it. We're always seen with each other, even outside of school. We were on the same soccer team for three years straight. We were always sleeping over each other's house, and we'd both pretty much been accepted as an extra son in each of the families. We had holidays together. When he was ill and away from school, not only had I lost my voice, but I myself was… lost. It was just so strange without him by my side.
It was always considered something akin to a crime to see us apart at school, and if we weren't joined at the hip, everyone began to query if we were fighting. Everyone knew about our friendship, and only once in almost twelve years had I heard a quip that we could be a couple. That was saying something, considering how good my hearing was. We weren't a couple, for the record. We'd never done the thing that all the stories say, about best friends teaching each other how to kiss.
It wasn't like it would be that bad to kiss Damien though. I mean, it would be weird and all, to kiss your best friend, but it wasn't like the thought of it was… gross. He was actually quite good-looking. As I said, people thought he was one of the world's gifts to women.
He was a head taller than I was (the weirdo actually ate his vegetables…) and his shoulders broad enough that if I were to lean against him, he would be at least an inch wider on each side. He wasn't overly muscled, but his constant energy had left him with almost zero fat and very strong legs. He had a washboard stomach too (and I only know this because I've seen him without a shirt on heaps; I am not checking him out!).
His hair was brown-black and hung to his neck; the school was forever telling him to cut it, but I did it for him, making it just legal. Like mine, it was dead straight, although it was thicker than mine, and had a choppy style to it. His eyes were dark too, framed by thick dark eyelashes. His skin was lightly tanned, from continuous exposure to the sun. He had a huge smile, with perfect teeth, thanks to braces. Now, from these descriptions, it doesn't sound like he's much, but I can tell you, there is something truly… intriguing about him. It is best not to think what attracts you to him, because you'll just get a headache trying to work it out.
Damien came from a family of four. There was him, his older sister, Serena, his mother, Katrina, and Scott, his father. They had a dog, and a cat, not to mention goldfish. He lived out in suburbia, in a large two-storey house. Damien and his sister dominated the upstairs, his parents the lower floor. Serena and Damien had their own television room, their bedrooms, and a bathroom, in addition to a spare room being up there. It was quite a nice set up.
Damien's room was not quite typical for a teenage boy's, in that it was actually tidy. Mine was messier, although it was still unnaturally tidy. It's not like he was anally retentive about anything, but he simply didn't make mess. Posters of his favourite soccer and football teams were hung nicely on his walls. The furniture in his room was his mothers doing, I admit. She'd selected it all to match. Everything in the room was dark green and cream, which looked quite nice with the dark ebony furniture.
My room, on the other hand, was mismatched furniture, clothes on the floor, books in random places, and CD's just about everywhere. I preferred to call it "organised chaos". After all, I knew where everything was! My mother didn't agree, unfortunately.
It was so obvious that Damien and I were the most important people to each other. He was everything to me. Sure, I loved my family, but he was like a brother, a best friend, just… everything. I knew he cared about me too. I don't know if it was the same as I felt, but I never felt like he didn't care, and that was all that mattered to me. Our relationship changed dramatically one day. It all began with 'the new kid'.
Ne? Comments?
Part: 1/9
Rating: R for language, themes and sex
Summary: I can't speak. I mean that literally. I am literally incapable of doing so.
Daniel's life changes dramatically in a few months. His sister has changed. His best friend has changed. He's fallen in love. He's fallen apart. His one constant suddenly isn't just a constant. (This is a REALLY bad summary about this. Honestly, just give it a go! It gets better after this chapter!!
PART ONE
I can't speak.
I mean that literally. I'm not talking about shock or surprise. I am literally incapable of doing so. I was born lacking that ability and the doctors never really found out why. There was absolutely nothing wrong with my hearing; in fact, it was very good. I was simply born that way. I remember that the doctors told me why once, when I had made the signs that I wanted to know, but I didn't pay attention. All it meant was that I wouldn't be able to speak. They told me that when I was old enough, I could have an operation to try and give me some sounds. We declined that offer, as the surgery was more likely to kill me, seen as how sensitive that area was.
But that doesn't matter. I can still communicate with people. My whole family has learnt signing, in order to communicate with me. Or rather, so I could communicate with them. I also do a lot of writing, if the person can't understand what I'm trying to say.
The fact that I can't talk has little impact on my life now. At home, it means that at least one of the children won't talk back. Of course, I can sign it, but if my parent's can't hear it, they don't care.
In addition to that, my sisters make more than enough noise to cover my lack thereof. I have two younger sisters, Charlotte and Amy. Charlotte is three years my junior, being fourteen. Sometimes, she likes to say she's only two years younger, because her birthday is months before mine. In other words, I'm still sixteen, and she's fourteen, despite my being in grade twelve, and her only being in grade nine.
We get along reasonably well, mostly because I don't argue back. She takes after our mother, while I take after our father. He's the more submissive and quiet of the two, as I was with my sister. The only thing she got from him that I didn't was the height. Our father was tall, while our mother, who was short, made up for her lack of elevation in personality. I was short, and couldn't express my personality properly. Charlotte was taller than I was, and had enough personality for four people.
She's loud, obnoxious, although she lacks self-esteem. She's relatively smart, but nothing to brag about. She passes school, although she doesn't seem to give a damn about it. She's sporty, to a degree. She does school sports, but it's always more of a social activity than anything else. She has no musical ability whatsoever. She can barely sing along with the radio. What she does have, however, is the looks. She is one of the most beautiful people I have ever met.
What I love about her beauty is the fact that she's natural. A lot of the girls I know apply loads of makeup, tart themselves up, and then, they look alright. She just has the hair, and this smile, those lovely eyes, and the structure that screams perfection.
Me… I'm another species altogether. Like her, I'm pretty. Now, pretty is okay, but well it's not okay when you're a boy. I have a figure that's even more slender than Charlotte's, with an even better bone structure. She has dark hair, while mine is a very pale blonde. We both have blue eyes, because both of our parents have them; it was inevitable. Mine are greyer, while hers are the purest blue.
I guess I don't really help my androgynous appearance much. I let my hair grow long enough that I pull it up for school (much to the irritation of those stickler-for-rules teachers; well, there is no rule that says I can't pull it back!). In addition to its length, I have it layered, so it looks very similar to those of some anime bishounen.
Add this to the fact that I'm musical and everything and you get yourself, me, a pretty little creature. Not that I mind. It's just nearly had me raped twice. But hey, it didn't happen, so that's all okay. Well, to a degree.
The newest member of our family came thirteen, nearly fourteen years after my birth. She was an accident, considering our mum didn't even think she could get pregnant. Needless to say, she did, and poof! Nine months later, Amy was born.
She's such a little doll. She is what makes a person wonder why people have children, while at the same time makes you want to have kids of your own. She can be so annoying, but you can't help but love her to death. She gets spoilt rotten, but only because she's so cute. Already, you can tell that she's going to take after Charlotte in the looks department. She's already gorgeous, although at this age, its cuteness, not beauty. Time will change that though.
My mum is a matriarch, although in a good way. Like my sisters, she is incredibly beautiful, which is fairly good, considering that she is nearly fifty. She's a lecturer at a university, in teaching, as a part-time job, so she can look after Amy for another year. When Amy goes to kindy next year, she'll become a full-time professor.
Dad is the main bread-winner I suppose. He is a computer technician, a bit of a geek, but hey, who cares? He's quiet, and just sits back and watches as everything unfolds. He never says much, but when he does, it's usually worth listening to. I find him to be a very enlightening person.
But anyway, that's my family. We're nothing too special or different to the next, but I still love us.
We live in a small set of apartment buildings on the edge of the city. You know, the area just before it’s the city, but not quite suburbia either? Yeah. It's nice and just big enough for each of us to live comfortably. We'll probably be moving soon, seen as my parents were finally blessed with a kid that loves to run around all the godamn time! Amy will be the sporty one, without a doubt.
I played soccer up until last year, when I decided that I didn't have time for regional training. I was good enough to get on the best team in town, while my best friend actually got on the state team; he stills plays though. I'm limited to playing for a club once a week, basically so I don't get fat, something regarded as an almost crime in my house.
Amy is one ball of energy, and my parents have decided that we should move to suburbia so that she can play as much as she wants. She'll be going to kindy out there too, so it'll be nice for her to play with her friends.
My parents didn't allow me to start kindergarten when other children did, for fear that I'd be picked on, and of course, being unable to speak, they'd have no way of knowing. I also couldn't write, so all I could do was make clumsy hand signs. The doctors convinced them to let me go, so I could get used to other children, I mean, besides my little sister, who was barely two at the time.
On that first day, it wasn't that I was just shy. We all know how little kids don't say anything when they're shy, well I couldn't even speak. Even if I weren't shy, I wouldn’t have been able to speak.
I was terrified. They made so much noise! Charlotte made a lot of noise, but that was because she was a baby. After coming from a house where Charlotte was the only real source of noise, it was a strange experience. They all ran around, laughing, screaming, talking, singing even (I swear, there were butterflies surrounding them!)
I kept my brave façade up until mum left me. For an hour, I sat in the playground, not talking to anyone, not looking at anyone. The jungle gym was huge, and a good place to hide, but too many kids went through it. I had resigned myself to sitting under one of the big trees around.
I can't remember what I was doing but I heard someone say my name. I looked up and saw a boy standing there, holding out his hand. He was smiling and I couldn't understand why. I pointed a finger at myself, a silent ask if he was speaking to me. He nodded and held the hand out further.
"Play with me?" He asked, still smiling.
Shocked, I nodded. He smiled wider, and pulled me up to my feet. He introduced himself as Damien, and he already knew my name, as I'd been introduced that morning to the class.
Ever since that day, we've been best friends. It started off as a completely dependant relationship, with me clinging to him. But as time progressed, I became more confident, and somehow, I helped him. He never seemed to care that I couldn't speak, never really became impatient. It was as if we were normal friends, as if he'd forgotten that I couldn't speak.
From that first week, I taught him the hand signs I knew, and to this day, whenever I learn a new one, I teach him, so we can communicate properly. He became my mouth to the outside world; he understood me even better than my parents.
At school, we were in the same class until grade three. But then, they split us up, which is generally what happens in schools. But the teacher found it too difficult to teach me, so we were put back to sharing a class within a week.
I was fortunate enough that I didn't ever have to go to the special education unit. I could work as well as any student with the only hindrance being that I couldn't answer questions quickly, or do oral presentations.
I was picked on a few times between now and then, but I found that more often than not, people were willing to stand by my side. I guess it came from the fact that I couldn't disagree with people, so they liked that. The world has enough talkers, I was told, and it needed more listeners.
Damien and I weren't the most popular people in school, but we weren't hated or shunned. We were about average on the social scale, if not higher. Damien was considered "totally hot" and I was considered "really cute". We had our share of girls after us.
We got average grades, occasionally excelling in some areas, falling in others. Damien was quite good at sport, and I was very good at music. Damien did soccer and football while I played the violin. I was good at math and English, but oddly, did terribly in science, while Damien topped chemistry and biology for three years, thereby earning him the science award each time. I got myself the music and English award too. Damien almost failed English, and probably would have, had I not edited every single one of his assignments.
We did just about everything together, and now that I think of it, I'm surprised we never got sick of each other. Of course, we had fights, but nothing that lasted more than an hour.
When I say we do everything together, I mean it. We're always seen with each other, even outside of school. We were on the same soccer team for three years straight. We were always sleeping over each other's house, and we'd both pretty much been accepted as an extra son in each of the families. We had holidays together. When he was ill and away from school, not only had I lost my voice, but I myself was… lost. It was just so strange without him by my side.
It was always considered something akin to a crime to see us apart at school, and if we weren't joined at the hip, everyone began to query if we were fighting. Everyone knew about our friendship, and only once in almost twelve years had I heard a quip that we could be a couple. That was saying something, considering how good my hearing was. We weren't a couple, for the record. We'd never done the thing that all the stories say, about best friends teaching each other how to kiss.
It wasn't like it would be that bad to kiss Damien though. I mean, it would be weird and all, to kiss your best friend, but it wasn't like the thought of it was… gross. He was actually quite good-looking. As I said, people thought he was one of the world's gifts to women.
He was a head taller than I was (the weirdo actually ate his vegetables…) and his shoulders broad enough that if I were to lean against him, he would be at least an inch wider on each side. He wasn't overly muscled, but his constant energy had left him with almost zero fat and very strong legs. He had a washboard stomach too (and I only know this because I've seen him without a shirt on heaps; I am not checking him out!).
His hair was brown-black and hung to his neck; the school was forever telling him to cut it, but I did it for him, making it just legal. Like mine, it was dead straight, although it was thicker than mine, and had a choppy style to it. His eyes were dark too, framed by thick dark eyelashes. His skin was lightly tanned, from continuous exposure to the sun. He had a huge smile, with perfect teeth, thanks to braces. Now, from these descriptions, it doesn't sound like he's much, but I can tell you, there is something truly… intriguing about him. It is best not to think what attracts you to him, because you'll just get a headache trying to work it out.
Damien came from a family of four. There was him, his older sister, Serena, his mother, Katrina, and Scott, his father. They had a dog, and a cat, not to mention goldfish. He lived out in suburbia, in a large two-storey house. Damien and his sister dominated the upstairs, his parents the lower floor. Serena and Damien had their own television room, their bedrooms, and a bathroom, in addition to a spare room being up there. It was quite a nice set up.
Damien's room was not quite typical for a teenage boy's, in that it was actually tidy. Mine was messier, although it was still unnaturally tidy. It's not like he was anally retentive about anything, but he simply didn't make mess. Posters of his favourite soccer and football teams were hung nicely on his walls. The furniture in his room was his mothers doing, I admit. She'd selected it all to match. Everything in the room was dark green and cream, which looked quite nice with the dark ebony furniture.
My room, on the other hand, was mismatched furniture, clothes on the floor, books in random places, and CD's just about everywhere. I preferred to call it "organised chaos". After all, I knew where everything was! My mother didn't agree, unfortunately.
It was so obvious that Damien and I were the most important people to each other. He was everything to me. Sure, I loved my family, but he was like a brother, a best friend, just… everything. I knew he cared about me too. I don't know if it was the same as I felt, but I never felt like he didn't care, and that was all that mattered to me. Our relationship changed dramatically one day. It all began with 'the new kid'.
Ne? Comments?