When Mum texted me Aubrey's address, informing me that both she and Mrs. Keats would get their later than she said, I ran so fast that I thought my legs would fall out. I sent the group chat a text saying I wouldn't be sticking around after school just as soon as Mr. Hardy let us out of Tutor Group.

"Alright, that's that," he said, bringing his hands together in a clap. "We'll see you back here Monday first thing. Have a safe weekend, everybody."

Then as the bell rang, Liam stood from his desk and waved me down, but I had no time to chat. I yelled "Bye!" as I threw my bag over my shoulder, heading out the door before anybody else had the chance.

It was pouring outside, storm clouds already well overhead, but I didn't care. Aubrey's house was barely a ten-minute run, so I exerted all of my strength into a single sprint. Soon I reached his place, a fancy white home with a picket fence surrounding a patchy front lawn. The smell of its freshly cut grass carried in the wind and rain. It was clear that whoever did it had no experience with a mower.

Stumbling up the steps, I rapped on his front door in record timing. There was no reaction from inside, so I looked around and found the buzzer. After some moments of excessive knocking and buzzing, the door finally pulled open. There I met face to face with Aubrey Keats. His hair was messily tucked behind his ear in a way that I could see a small clear tube protruding from his ear. It was the first time I'd ever noticed it, although to be fair, it was the first time I'd ever looked.

We stared at each other for a few moments. He looked shocked while my mind reeled with second thoughts, questioning where I ever got the confidence to be here. I almost turned around to leave again when his eyes widened, and he went back inside, leaving the door in invitation. Closing my eyes for just a second, I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Aubrey paused mid-power walk, then turned back to face me. He looked conflicted, but I didn't know why. We barely exchanged words as he grabbed a towel and put it around me. Since he pulled it straight from the hot water cupboard, I felt its warmth around my neck, seeping into my drenched clothes.

We went upstairs to his master bedroom. It was the size of two of mine.

I convinced him to let me shower when he offered me dry clothes. I'd never heard of a kid having an en suite before, so I was surprised when he led me inside. Mum and Dad wouldn't even let me look inside of theirs let alone use it. Going by the reasonable assumption that his parents would also have their own, I concluded that this family must be loaded.

Unlike my shower at home, this one had high-pressure water, getting significantly hotter than mine. Dad was strict with electricity, doing everything he could to minimize usage; including limiting hot water. Compared to that, this shower felt like heaven. I opened his body wash and gave it a whiff. It smelled nice. Really nice. I dumped a heap into my hand and got to cleaning up, enjoying the smell. Aubrey's smell, as it turned out.

The room was filled with steam when I stepped out. I sought out the window and opened it, taking in the sight and sound of pouring rain, before catching a quick glimpse at the back yard. Coming towards the house, I found Aubrey marching along the ground, slipping and sliding with every step.

I chuckled at the sight. He looked so determined, it was funny.

He stumbled, yelping as he slipped backward onto his bum. I cracked up at the sight, loving that startled look on his face. Never in my life would I have thought Aubrey might be this clumsy. I fit my face through the small window and called out, "Ha-ha!"

But he didn't respond.

He didn't appear to hear me, or even notice me up here. Instead, he rotated his ankle a few times, then tried to stand. Something silver gleamed in contrast to its darker surroundings, and I squinted to get a better view before his right hand accidentally covered it. He turned his head to look at it, then picked it up off the ground.

I think it was his hearing aid.

My stomach churned. He cried out once he realized what it was. I watched him resign himself as he buried his head in his arms, legs pulled in. The reality of the situation hit me in the form of a pressure wave, sending me stumbling backward from the window. I threw my wet clothes back on and raced down to find the back door.

I called his name, but of course, he couldn't hear me.

When I tapped his shoulder, I felt his muscles tense at my touch. I first checked that he was okay enough to walk and helped him toward the house. Before we went inside, I leaned down and removed both of our muddied shoes and socks.

Pulling the door behind us, I wrapped him in a towel and drew him into my arms. Although he was taller than me, more so than I cared to admit, I rubbed his back, trying my best to console him. I felt him relax into my touch, resting his forehead on my shoulder. Even though he was cold and drenched, he felt warm against me. Exchanging warmth, I held him even closer.

We stayed like this for a while, with me rubbing his arms until his shivering stopped. I enjoyed the little moments when he'd turn his head slightly, feeling his cheek brush just above my collarbone. Or his forehead would rub against me very slightly, scrunching up my shirt beneath him and reminding me of a cat.

Pulling away to look at him, I brushed his drenched hair away from his face. His eyes were red, and his cheeks flushed.

In the space of two days, he turned from an iron baron to an actually sentient human being. Finding myself weak to the way he felt in my arms, I couldn't believe it took 'til now to realize how vulnerable he really was. My thumbs brushed against his cheeks, feeling his soft skin, and watching how his eyes closed at my touch.

My heart just about lunged for him, reaching out and thrashing everything that came between us; including my own prejudices. His shoulders still occasionally wracked from the last remaining sobs he tried to suppress. I wanted to hold him tighter, tighter again, and tighter still. But all I could think about was how gently and carefully I wanted to treat him. How lovingly he deserved to be treated.

Brushing the last few strands from his forehead, I pressed my lips against it.

Aubrey froze, staring at me. Besides that, he didn't react. Was this his way of accepting me? Surely, he'd get the point of me being gay right now. But the fact that he didn't back away in repulsion, punch me or send me home felt like a positive sign. Something about this felt so right.

My heart raced as I stared down at his lips. They were parted slightly, breathing heavily. My eyes trailed back up to where I kissed his forehead. Unable to help myself, I trailed my thumbs closely around the corners of his lips. He didn't move. His expression didn't change. He was allowing me to do as I pleased.

He wasn't rejecting me.

Then I thought about kissing him. On his lips, this time. How would he react to a boy's kiss? I'd never done it, but I never had any doubt that it's what I wanted. And at this moment, I wanted Aubrey to be my first. My mind and senses practically begged for it, focusing on nothing but his pale pink lips.

But then he sighed, snapping me out of my own little world. Clenching my eyes shut, I collected myself and pulled away.

Besides risking a punch square in the jaw, I wasn't being in the least bit helpful. He needed to get into the shower before he came down with a cold. There was a quiet roll of thunder in the distance, so drowned out by the sound of rain that I wasn't even confident I heard it at all. Aubrey appeared oblivious to it.

I said "Shower," slowly, while flicking my fingers open and closed above my head. He nodded, apparently having understood. Before I could turn around, I felt his arms reach around both of my sides, pulling me back against him. His forehead briefly rested against my neck, then settled onto my shoulder. I heard him sigh again, fingers clutching the back of my shirt.

I didn't understand this sudden development, but nothing inside me even remotely tried to refute it. I brushed my fingers through the back of his wet hair, then pulled and adjusted the towel tighter around him. I kissed the side of his head as gently as I could, wondering if he felt it. But when his grip on the back of my shirt tightened, I wondered if it meant he had.

The front door rattled, bringing to my attention the sound of my Mum's voice, along with who I could only presume to be Mrs. Keats. It burst open at the very moment I pushed Aubrey away. As he looked at me in confusion, both our Mums stopped in front of the laundry door, looking in at us. I turned and waved at them both, looking and feeling sheepish. And guilty.

Mrs. Keats gasped, taking in the sight of her soaked and muddy son. "Oh my- what happened?"

Aubrey noticed her then. His face quickly hardened, stepping back further away from me.

"Mum," he said, then started signing to her. Briefly exchanging glances, Mum and I watched their entire back and forth exchange with interest. Mrs. Keats gasped when Aubrey pulled out his hearing aid and showed it to her.

"For the love of God," she sighed, signing something back. I could get the gist of the last part, signaling him to go upstairs.

Aubrey looked at me for a moment then said, "Come on, let's go clean up."

Mum looked at me with bewilderment as I passed her, but all I could do was shrug. I'd have to explain things later, but I had the feeling that Mrs. Keats would get to it first.

We removed our soaking shirts and dumped them on the floor of his bathroom. He told me to shower first and closed the door behind him. I discarded my wet shorts and tossed them on the wet pile. I took a moment to deliberate the fact that he insisted I shower first, despite him being the one who fell in the dirt. It was already a huge testament to his personality.

I realized I didn't want to be the one who showered first. Aubrey was wet, dirty, and potentially injured. He should be in here, not me. I opened the door to find him kneeling in front of his bed with his back to me, inspecting his aid. The light on it was on, meaning there'd probably be some damage there. He'd have to switch it off and dry it out before putting in a new battery.

Hopefully that'd suffice.

I came out and knelt beside him, taking him by surprise. He turned his head to face me. "Why aren't you showering?" he asked.

"How's your ankle?" I asked, pointing at his foot.

Frowning, he put out his foot and started rolling his ankle. "It's fine. I actually forgot about it," he said, looking back up at me. "Now go shower."

His voice was slow and careful, low like he was deliberately trying to keep his voice down. Could he not hear himself speak? Did he know how quiet or loud he was being when he didn't have his hearing aid in?

"You shower first," I said. "I also wanna make sure your hearing aid's fine."

He blinked.

Snickering at my own stupidity, I picked up his hearing aid and gave it a quick study. I found its power button and switched it off before removing its battery. When I looked up, I found him watching in confusion.

"Bin," I said loudly while flicking my fingers in what I hoped was a throwing-out motion. He looked behind us towards his computer desk, to the left of his bathroom door. Seeing a small wire bin beneath it, I tossed the battery inside of it in one go. I hope I looked pretty cool.

Picking up the aid again, I waved my hand in front of it, motioning for it to be dried. He nodded in understanding. "I'll put it in the hot water cupboard," he said.

I pointed at it and asked, "What's it called?"

He couldn't hear me.

"NAME?" I said, wriggling it in my fingers. His eyes were narrowed, staring at my lips while he tried to make out my words. "SIGN."

"Sign?" he asked, and I nodded with excitement.

"For what?" he asked. I pointed at the aid. "My hearing aids?"

I nodded again. He lifted his index finger and motioned a trail from the top of his ear, following the outline, and back out the bottom. "Hearing aid," he said.

Mimicking his actions, I said, "Hearing aid," and almost beamed with joy when he nodded his approval.

"You don't have to learn sign though," he said. "You can just write it down."

"But I wanna learn," I said, only to find him blinking at me again. It may be a harder task of adjusting to this than I thought, but the idea of learning sign language was mind-bogglingly cool. I made the universal sign for phone with my hand and watched him reach out for it on the bed. After typing in his passcode, he handed it back to me with his Notes application on the screen.

I wrote, "But I want to learn. Tell me the word for 'sign' so I can ask at random."

He looked at me with that same deadpan expression I was used to, but a small smile crept up the corner of his lip. "Okay," he said. "Ready?"

He held his hands flat, palms facing each other, and rotated them in front of him. "That's 'sign,'" he said, then repeated the motion, this time separating them and landing them flat in front of him. "And that's 'sign language.'"

I repeated the motions after him and he nodded, laughing. "If you learn enough then you can start signing secrets with me, Ikeisha, and Trey in class."

My eyes widened. "They know how to as well?" I asked.

"Of course," he said, voice growing a little louder with his excitement. While it was normal for me, it was strange coming out of him. "They learned it the minute we found out. It wasn't even compulsory. I mean, I can still read and speak, but Mum and Ikeisha pestered me to. I guess I'm glad though because I can't hear my own voice without my aids. It's too low for me to hear."

My mind was blown. So, that's why he was talking so loudly now?

I tapped away into his phone again, then held it in front of his face, watching his expression soften as he glanced back up at me.

"Teach me everything."

I said that, but I signed up and sat through my very first sign language class early the very next morning. Whatever it took, I'd make sure Aubrey Keats knew my intentions loud and clear. That every step he took towards me, I'd take ten more steps closer to him.