Page 169 of The Sound of Him

-Ace

His signed name is a little smooshed in the bottom right corner, like he definitely still ran out of room despite trying not to ramble. I flip it over, thinking he could have written on the back, but the back is filled with random letters, numbers, and scribbles.

I slip it into my pocket alongside my iPod, notebook, and bunny. The top corner seam of the pocket is starting to come loose a little. My other favorite hoodie is having the same problem in the lower corner. I’m probably going to need to cut down on how much I’m stuffing into my pockets soon. Or learn how to sew so I can fix-

The door to the office swings open. I freeze, all of the warmth from the blankets and the note and the safety in here seeping right out of me. Then it all rushes back in, stealing my breath with relief, as I find myself locking eyes with Ace.

His grin is slow, but not because he’s drunk on exhaustion. It’s just like he’s waking up for the first time in a really long time. “Good morning, sunshine.”

I don’t have the sign for ‘sunshine’, so I fingerspell it instead, raising an eyebrow at him as I do.

He shifts on his feet. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. Weird. That was weird, hey? It’s just - you’re always - I mean, you - it’s gonna sound real stupid, okay? Like, I know it’s going to sound stupid. And weird. And just, like, feel free to throw something at me or run away or… I don’t know. Whatever. It’s just that you make me feel really fucking warm and you’re like the brightest fucking thing in the world, especially on the darker days, you know? Like, there’s the blues,” he pauses to put his hand out flat, chest level. “And there’s you.” He raises the hand as high as it can go. He’s not looking at me, his eyes fixed somewhere over my shoulder. It feels like I’m burning up inside. “So, like, yeah. You know. Sunshine. God, sorry, what a weird fucking-”

I sidestep until he’s forced to look at me. My cheeks are warm and achey, eyes stinging. His shoulders drop. “That,” he whispers. “If you could see - it’s that right there. That smile. It’s all sunshine.”

There’s something jittery inside of me. That alive feeling that is so rare for me to find these days. I want to dig my fingers into it and cling. Or wrap myself up in it.

One night, when listening to the blues together, we found the sign for the color. I do it now,Blue, followed by,Safe,and,Warm,and,You.

“The blues make you feel like that? Warm and safe?” His smile widens. “That’s great, Matt. I’m glad-” he stops himself when I start to wave at him, shaking my head.

I move around the coffee table and put my hand out toward him. I hesitate right before making contact, looking at him to check in. He nods and murmurs, “Go ahead.”

I step into him and place my hand right over his heart. I tap it, still looking at him. Then I sign the same sequence. Blue. Warm. Safe. I tap him again after, trying to get his part in the equation to register.

He swallows hard enough for me to hear the softclick. “So, I’m… blue? And warm and safe? For you?”

I grin.

His smile wavers a little, though. “Is it - what’s the blue, Matt? Do I make you sad sometimes, too? Is it when I-”

I bring my other hand up to place beside the first and he stops.

His chin is tilted down, his brown eyes big and worried, eyebrows drawn in and also up.

He looks…scared.

I try to breathe through the frustration of me not being able to speak. I want to explain this to him, quick and painless, so he canunderstand. So he can know that he’s my sunshine too, but it’s different, it’sbetter- because I don’t want to have to be in thebright places, I don’t want to have to squint into the sun, I want to be able to hide. I want to be able to tuck myself somewhere safe and sink into the fuzzy soft blue that he makes me feel, all while borrowing that sunshine warmth from him.

But that doesn’t make any sense, it doesn’t work like that, and so he’ll never be able to put the signs together to understand, and my head is starting to hurt which means writing it down won’t end up making sense, the words are going to get slippery, I can already feel them getting slippery, and I - I - I -

“Is it good?” he whispers.

I blink up, my eyes blurry. I feel his hand hovering near my shoulder. I look over at it, taking one of my hands off of his chest to wipe at my eyes until I can see better. Then I use my hand to grab his, pulling it until his fingers are wrapping around the curve of my shoulder. I look up again. I can see him clearly now.

He squeezes my shoulder and asks, really really quiet, “I can touch you?”

I nod.

His other hand very slowly comes to rest on my hip. He squeezes there too. I put my free hand back on his chest and curl my fingers until I have his sweater in my hands. It’s new. Fresh and unwrinkled and soft. I can smell his soap now that I’m paying attention. His beard is shaved.

“Is it good?” he asks. “Me being blue? You don’t have to explain it, as long as it’s good.”

I grin.

Good, I sign. I make the movements big.Very good.

“Good,” he agrees, mimicking my movements.

“Then you’ll be my sunshine,” he murmurs. “And I’ll be your blue.”

There aren’t words for that, even if I could say them. I just slide my hands down and around his waist, press my head to hischest, and hug him. He hugs me back, resting his cheek on the top of my head.

Everything is so warm.

Everything is all sunshine and blue.