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From their angle, Wren couldn’t make out what they were signing, but he could see the expressions on their faces. They looked happy.
No, it was more than that. It was deeper.
They seemed like they’d finally found what they were looking for.
It made Wren want to glow with joy because he’d watched his brother’s shit-for-brains ex slowly drain his brother of all contentment, and for a long while, Wren had been afraid he was going to destroy Caleb for good.
Then, he felt a small pulse of jealousy—not at what Caleb had because Wren didn’t want what his brother had. He was jealous of his freedom—of his certainty that he was exactly where he was meant to be and living the life that defined him. Caleb had always been Deaf. He’d never existed on the fringe of two worlds. He’d always been gay and content with romance. He didn’t have the added complication of not knowing where he fell into the spectrum of his own identity. And while Wren knew there were thousands—if not millions—of people like him in the world, too often, he felt alone.
And he hated being an island.
Wren startled a second later when a body fell into the chair beside him, and he looked over to see Luke staring. He had a thin sheen of sweat across his brow, and his hair was mussed, so it was obvious how Ananda had calmed down whatever had gotten under his skin.
Wren smirked as he reached for his drink and took a sip.
“Stop,” Luke signed, grimacing at him.
“You have sex hair.”
Luke immediately tried to flatten it, failing miserably. “Anthony told me you just about jumped up his ass when you thought I was being mean to your little hearie friend.”
Wren let out a soft sigh. Apparently, this was happening. “It’s nothing,” he signed, knowing damn well Luke wasn’t going to let it go so easily. “He explained it was a CPS case thing.”
Luke’s gaze didn’t waver. “I might be an asshole sometimes, but I’m not cruel. He’s the one who made a fool of himself at our place of work.”
Wren licked his lips. “Because he was misinformed.”
“It’s his own fault for taking actual, professional language lessons and not realizing that they’re two different languages. And the fact that he came into our work and started accusing me of?—"
Wren reached out and touched his wrist, stilling his hand. “I know.”
Luke deflated a little. “I hate people like that.”
“I know.” Wren’s hand hesitated before he pulled it away from Luke. “But he’s not like that. He’s…complicated.”
Luke rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s complicated. That’s the human condition.”
Wren couldn’t argue with that, but he also couldn’t explain further without betraying Percy’s confidence and history to someone who clearly didn’t like him. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I think he stopped speaking to me.”
“Didn’t you want that?” Luke asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Doesn’t being his friend break your rules?”
He knew better than to assume the question was judgmental, but he felt judged all the same, and it sat heavy in his chest like a fat, slimy boulder. Especially because Luke was right: it did break the rules. But with Percy, he wanted to obliterate them, and he didn’t know what the fuck that meant, like, cosmically.
His eyes felt hot suddenly, and he realized with horror he was about to cry. He tried to turn his face away, but Luke was faster. He caught Wren by the chin, stared at him, then slapped his hand down on the table and stood up.
Wren had no choice but to go along when Luke seized his fingers and tugged, and it wasn’t long before the rumbling vibration of the music was gone and they were outside in the cool breeze, standing under the ugly, dim yellow light of the community center.
The parking lot was full, but it was quiet, and Wren felt suddenly itchy all over. He didn’t want to be there. Fuck. He didn’t want to be anywhere.
The tight feeling in his chest got worse, and he couldn’t stop a few tears from falling. God, what was wrong with him? He hadn’t cried since he was young and so, so lost.
“Wren,” Luke signed, his hand soft.
He shook his head. “Don’t.”
Luke, of course, ignored him. He engulfed Wren in his big, bulky arms, and the warmth and weight of him was exactly enough to shatter all of his resolve. He felt the sob that had been lodged in his chest escape. It rumbled against the back of his throat, hurting as it ripped itself out. He clung to Luke so tightly he swore if he let go, he’d collapse.
They stood there for so long Wren lost track of time, and when Luke’s grip on him began to loosen, Wren felt overwhelmed with shame. Had he seriously just lost it in the middle of a parking lot? And over what? Emotions?
