Normally, when I close in the early afternoon for lunch, I jet up the street to the gym so I can get a short workout in. I’m still inmy “new year, new me” era, but right now, there’s not a chance in hell I’m spending any time away from my apartment until I know that Cielo’s going to be okay. And honestly, I’m not feeling a hundred percent after the flare.
It also doesn’t help that I’ve already gotten a handful of worried texts from Everest. I’d think the guy was in love with my monster if I didn’t know he was so ass-over-tits in love with his own.
But after the last bout of worried texts, I promised Everest I’d go check on Cielo, which is the perfect excuse to see him. I make my way back across the street and let myself in through the front door, a little anxiety fizzing through my veins.
I think I’ll be worried for a while that one day I’ll come home and he’ll just be…gone. Like he was never here at all.
Luckily, the first thing I hear is music on the TV, and when I walk into the room, I see a very old, familiar video playing. It takes me a minute to recognize what it is, but at the sight of laughing, signing children, I realize they’re the tapes my parents brought home so Gia and I could practice our ASL.
“Who gave you those?” I ask, stepping into the room. I spot Cielo, who’s on the couch, eyes heavy-lidded with fatigue. Some of his scars and marks are fading, but I have a feeling that even with cum, they’re going to mar his body forever.
He blinks at me for a moment, then lifts a hand and spells flawlessly, ‘LUCA.’ Then he gives his sign name.
My brows fly up. “Wait, Luca visited you before he left for Vegas?”
‘Yes. Few hours ago.’ Again, flawless ASL. No hesitation, no searching for the signs. It’s a wonder how quickly the Vyastil learn. With Cielo, it doesn’t scare me, but some of the others… ‘You finish work?’
My mouth twitches as I lift my hands. ‘Not yet. I finish at four.’ My hands hesitate, then I sign, ‘You learn fast.’
He huffs and shrugs, trilling out half his melodic song. ‘ASL easy. Need more vocabulary.’
“I can help with that,” I sign and say at the same time. Sim-com is a pain in the ass, but I’ve been doing it for Luca for so many years, it’s become easier. “Can I sit?”
He makes a happy noise in the back of his throat and shifts over, making room for me. His eyes are on me, a heavy weight, and the moment my ass is planted, he lifts his hands to ask, ‘You feel better?’
Biting my lip, I shrug. “Yes. The pain is on-off.”
‘Medicine,’ he signs.
I shake my head. “There’s nothing I can take. Not really. Nothing works.”
I see something flare in his eyes, but he doesn’t sign anything.
After a moment, I ask, “Did you get the cum I left for you?”
His cheeks darken to an almost violet, and his hand dips to the cushion beside him, then he lifts the paper I left with my scribbled note. His clawed thumb brushes over it tenderly, like those pointless words actually meant something to him.
‘Thank you,’ he signs.
All I can really do is nod. I can’t tell him where I’ve been getting it. I can’t tell him why I’m doing it this way because I don’t know. But there’s something in me viscerally opposed to letting him drink from anyone else. The very idea of it makes me furious and jealous in ways I have never been in my life.
But I can’t tell him that. I’ll sound like a fucking crazy person.
“It’s no trouble,” I eventually say. Because it really, really isn’t. I wouldn’t mind doing it more often if I knew I wasn’t going to get caught. “How much ASL have you learned?” I ask, voicing still.
‘Much,’ he replies, and his tail peeks out from beneath him and gently touches my thigh. I pretend I don’t notice it. Instead, I turn my gaze back to the TV and watch it with him. It brings back so many memories of growing up with Luca, learning to sign as he acquired his natural language.
It wasn’t easy. My parents struggled with the whole thing, but at least they tried.
It’s more than most Deaf kids get. When we met several of Luca’s Deaf friends from his school, it became obvious that he was the exception to the normal rule, which was probably also why he was so much happier than they were.
He taps me on the shoulder and asks, ‘When did you learn sign?’
“After Luca was born. We all learned. There was no halfway. We immersed ourselves in it. There were days when there was no voicing in the house.”
‘No voicing?’
“Turning your voice off,” I twist an invisible knob at my throat, and my voice disappears. ‘Like this. Like you, sometimes.’
