Chapter Text
Jack bit his lip intensely, hoping his experimentation would pay off.
He had been in the art room for about two hours, working on a new backdrop for the drama classes during his art lesson. It’s not like they could teach him anything he couldn’t already do and his new foster mother, who was the drama teacher at the school, thought it would be a better use of his time.
He paused.
Medda Larkin was a lovely lady. Much better than his last two foster parents. But he couldn’t help but be wary. She was nice now but what if she wanted something in return in future?
Perhaps it was wrong to doubt her kindness. After all, he had only been with her for two months. But when you live a life like Jack’s, wariness came with the territory.
He continued to paint. The backdrop was of a library and he was quite enjoying making up titles for the books. It’s not like anyone would see what they said from a distance but he still took the time to come up with either something witty or a little dedication to his friends.
There was a knock on the door and Jack turned to see a dark haired boy open the door hesitantly.
“It’s lunch, you shouldn’t be here.”
The boy stared at him and stepped into the room instead, closing the door.
Jack narrowed his eyes when he saw the boy’s hands flutter upwards before dropping.
“Are you new? Want me to show you where to go?“ It would be nice to stretch his legs a little before he spent the rest of his lunch ignoring his sandwich and painting.
The boy nodded.
Jack chuckled. “You can talk to me, I won’t bite.”
Again, the boy’s hands moved up and dropped to his sides again.
A sudden realisation hit Jack.
He put down his brush, trying to recall lessons from several years ago.
He pressed his flat palm against his chest. Then he held out his index and middle fingers on both hands, tapping them twice in an x shape.
The boy's expression was one of shock as Jack kept going.
He closed his fist, swinging his pinkie.
Then he closed his hand, facing the palm in the boy's direction.
Next: he curved his hand into a c.
Finally, Jack held his hand up in a peace sign, separating his index and middle finger with his thumb.
He hoped he was successful in saying, "My name is J-A-C-K," and hadn't accidentally swore in sign language.
The boy in front of him was astounded but still didn't say anything.
Jack decided he needed to offer some encouragement.
Now that he started, he began to remember and the signs came a little more naturally.
“What's your name?” He signed, simultaneously speaking it aloud.
The boy’s hand moved up again as he signed his name, “D-A-V-I-D.” The boy, David, still looked a bit astounded.
Jack smiled, glad he hadn't screwed it up. “Sorry, I don't remember enough for a full blown conversation, but you can hear me, right?”
David nodded, pulling out a notebook from his back pocket and scribbling a reply.
“I can. I'm mute, hence the no talking.”
“Ahh,” Jack nodded, his suspicions confirmed. “How you finding it here?”
David grimaced, as he scribbled a response. “I had an appointment this morning so I've only been here for one lesson. I got shouted at for not answering the teacher’s question and it took 20 minutes to explain I physically can't speak to answer her.”
Jack wasn't surprised at the answer. His school wasn't great with helping any student with a disadvantage. They were the exact opposite of "no children left behind".
Teachers not even listening (well not listening) to mute students only ellicited an embarrassed groan from Jack.
"I'm so sorry, man. Half the teachers don't know shit here. If it weren't for Medda, I wouldn't be getting a dyslexia diagnosis. They spent years just telling me I'm a fucking idiot."
"Medda?" If David's writing was suddenly bigger and less cursive to make it a bit easier for Jack, neither of them said a thing.
Jack rubbed the back of his neck, almost embarassed. "The drama teacher here...and my foster mother."
David nodded thoughtfully before gesturing towards the backdrop.
"Oh, right. Instead of doing whatever rubbish everyone else does in art and drama, I get to make the backdrops. So much creative liberty."
David clapped, evidently thoroughly impressed. Jack faked a bow. As he righted himself, he noticed something on David's hand.
"Woah, you've painted your nails."
He was pleasantly surprised when Davey extended one hand for Jack to observe as he jotted an explanation down for him.
"My sister did it to give me "a bit of confidence on my first day”.”
"Ain't you worried about someone realising you're-"
David raised an eyebrow, slowly writing "gay?" Jack nodded sheepishly, wishing he hadn't jumped to conclusions. He gulped at the displeased expression David gave him.
So when Davey started laughing, Jack was startled.
"I'm very very gay, don't worry."
Relief flooded Jack and he allowed himself to observe David's silent laughter.
Even if he couldn't hear it, the way David’s eyes were closed and crinkled and his lips stretched into a wide smile, Jack knew he had a beautiful laugh.
“Sorry, I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. But your nails are so cool.”
Jack felt envious. He'd always loved the idea of painting his nails. But even years later, he could recall the shouting of the foster parents he had asked. Very Christian and very homophobic. Which meant Jack had had to endure months of lectures about how things like "painting your nails will lead you to indulge in promiscuous behaviour with men, which is a sin".
And even though Jack had no personal religious beliefs, he was young and it had shaken him.
So seeing David flashing his painted nails around like it was nothing was incredible to Jack.
"Thank you," David smiled at Jack as he signed the short phrase. Then he picked up his pen and wrote, "I think you'd look great with painted nails. That is, if you're not afraid of seeming gay." David dropped the pen and gave Jack a pointed look, amused.
Jack rolled his eyes. "I'm bi. I'm basically twice as gay as you, Davey."
The smile dropped from David's face as he tilted his head in confusion. "D-A-V-E-Y?" He signed, gaze questioning.
"Don't tell me you ain't never had a nickname before?" Jack gasped.
David - Davey - shrugged, his meaning clear without written word or signs. "Not really."
Jack nodded resolutely. "Well, I think Davey suits you pretty good."
Davey narrowed his eyes at Jack. "Do you have a nickname?" he wrote, shoving the paper in his new friend's direction.
"I mean, My buddy, Race, calls me Cowboy?"
If he thought the answer would appease Davey, he was wrong. "I'll think of something better."
Jack sat back down and patted the chair beside him. "You can think while we eat." At Davey's befuddled expression, Jack burst into laughter. "Did you forget you came here to ask for directions to the cafeteria?"
Davey slapped a hand to his forehead and laughed before sitting next to Jack.
They spent lunch talking, switching between ASL, writing and, in Jack's case, speaking.
Jack told Davey about his friends, about Medda and a little bit about his previous foster homes, careful to keep those anecdotes light.
In return, he learned that Davey was Jewish, had a sister who was older by a year, and a brother who was younger by eight. He also discovered that Davey had been mute since he was twelve but Jack wasn't told why.
He didn't care. He liked Davey, anyways.
At the end of lunch, they consulted Davey's timetable and Jack whooped loudly, nearly knocking Davey down with his celebrations.
"Sorry, but look! We're in most classes together. Including next period in English!" Then he glanced at Davey with feigned caution. "How good are you at English...and biology...and-"
He was cut off by a punch to the arm.
Davey stuck a tongue out at him.
Jack froze as he had a full view of Davey's eyes.
They were a vivid blue, like the oceans Jack had only ever painted. They drew him in and, for just a moment, Jack felt like he was drowning.
And it was thrilling.
His thoughts were interrupted when Davey tapped his shoulder, signing that it was time to go to class.
"Oh, right! Let's go." He shook his head and led the way.
They spent all of their lesson writing notes back and forth.
At one point, Davey had written something so funny, a short bark of laughter had escaped Jack.
"Is there a problem, Jack?" The teacher had stopped and raised an eyebrow at him.
When he turned to Davey for help, Davey raised his hands and widened his eyes, his meaning obvious: "Don't look at me, I'm mute."
"Uhh, sorry, Davey here wasn't quite sure what you meant so I was trying to explain."
Once the teacher had resumed her lesson, Jack glared at Davey, kicking him, only to be rewarded with Davey beaming at him, those blue eyes crinkled as he was pulled under the waves again.
Unfortunately, they didn't share their last lesson, with Davey in physics ("Oh, you're a nerd") and Jack in history.
"Give me your number." Davey signed rapidly, pulling out his phone and handing it to Jack.
"Bossy," Jack teased but he obliged, sending himself a text from Davey's phone so he'd have his number as well. "Text ya later?"
Davey gave him an enthusiastic nod before vanishing into the crowd.
Jack stood there, taking deep breaths to settle himself before making his way to class.
"Hey, Miss Medda." Jack walked into the kitchen, dropping his bag on the floor and climbing on to the counter Medda wasn't using.
"Hello, Jack. Any plans to at least drop the "Miss"?" She teased but Jack knew that it hurt her a little when he kept the formality between them.
"You're my teacher, as well," he pointed out, accepting the glass of water she handed him. "If I forgot to say it at school-"
"You know I wouldn't give half a damn, sugar."
Jack said nothing, choosing to drink his water in silence.
Medda sighed. “How was school, Jack?”
Jack couldn't help but brighten at the question.
“It was great! Made loads of progress on the backdrops and I made a new friend.”
Medda looked very happy at that. “I can wait to meet them. What are they like?”
“His name is Davey and he's so cool,” Jack gushed. “He paints his nails and it looks so good. And he's smart. He said he'd help me with biology so I maybe I won't have to drop it like I thought.”
“That's sweet of him.”
As Medda cooked their dinner, Jack continued to talk about his new friend.
“And he’s got a really sarcastic sense of humour. He was telling me a story of how he accidentally taught his little brother to swear in ASL-”
“He's deaf?”
Jack frowned. “No, he's mute. Didn't I mention it?”
Medda smiled warmly at him. “Must've slipped your mind, sugar.”
Jack thought for a long moment then shrugged. It didn't bother him that Davey couldn't speak. It didn't make him any less confident or funny or handsome-
He stiffened slightly at that last thought and Medda noticed.
“Everything alright?”
Jack shook himself and mustered a grin. “Yeah, I was just wondering- I know you wanted to watch a movie tonight but I was thinking I should watch some ASL videos. To remind me.”
“That's very thoughtful of you, Jack. Why don't you shower, come have some dinner then we can watch those videos while I paint your nails.”
That caught him off guard. “Paint...paint my nails?”
Medda chuckled. “It was the first thing you mentioned, Jack. It’s obvious you like the idea. We can start with something simple, like black, see if you feel comfortable.”
Jack looked at his hands and a small smile grew on his face. He felt very small when he looked up and quietly asked, “Miss Medda, is it alright if I hug you?”
Medda looked ecstatic. “You never need to ask, honey.”
Jack leapt off the counter and hesitantly wrapped his arms around her, melting into her warm embrace. “Thanks,” he mumbled, slightly embarrassed.
“Of course. Now, go have that shower. Dinner’s almost ready.”
There was a knock on his door. Davey, busy writing, knocked on his desk, signalling that it was okay to come in.
His sister, Sarah, sauntered in like she owned the place.
“Hey,” she signed once Davey put his pen down. “We’re going to the store. You want anything?”
Davey glared at her. “I want you to speak when you sign.” His fingers were agitated as he signed a sentence he had signed dozens of times before. “I'm mute not deaf.”
Sarah rolled her eyes and repeated herself, vocally and through sign.
Davey pursed his lips, thinking. He was about to say no when an idea struck him.
“A notebook with green pages.”
Sarah was confused. “Green pages?”
Davey raised an eyebrow. “Yes, green. Like the grass you need to go outside and touch.”
It should never be said that mutism had silenced Davey’s sarcasm.
Sarah kicked the leg of his chair, jolting him. He glared at her and dashed downstairs, Sarah on his heels.
His mother sighed when she saw their furious expressions. “Sarah, leave David alone. David, stop antagonising Sarah.” She signed tiredly.
When his mother turned around, they stuck their tongues out at each other, simultaneously, then laughed.
“Why do you need green paper for?” Sarah asked, her fingers flickering as she tried to recall the appropriate signs as she spoke.
“The friend I was talking about earlier? He said he's dyslexic. It would make it easier for him.”
Sarah grinned wolfishly. “You mean that cute boy who knows ASL?”
Davey narrowed his eyes at her. “I never said he was cute.”
“You didn't need to say it or sign it. Your expression whenever you talk about him tells all.”
“Didn't you need to be leaving?” Davey wished he had his voice, knowing it would have made a nice hiss at his irritating sister.
“You didn't deny it!” Sarah sang.
Davey grabbed a magazine from the counter and threw it at her.
“Enough, you two.”
Davey waited for his family to leave, reminding them about the green paged notebook.
Then he wandered upstairs, grinning giddily.
He really liked Jack.
Jack was talented (if the backdrop he had been painting was any indication).
Jack was clever (realising Davey couldn't talk and talking in ASL).
And Sarah was wrong. Jack wasn't cute.
Jack was handsome.
Davey was convinced Jack didn't know it but that tanned skin, the flecks of paint up his strong arms, his crooked smile-
He fell back on to his bed and sighed silently.
Jack looked like the man of his dreams.
High school crushes never usually work out, Davey knew this. But then Jack's laugh would echo through his mind and his heart would beat a little faster.
The world had taken his voice from him. The least he deserved was a happily ever after with Jack.
Davey smiled to himself.
It would work.
He knew it.