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Dalton is deaf. This much, he has accepted. He's learned to live in a world of silence, the only thing he hears being his inner voice. He's never actually heard his own voice. Instead of being in an English class, he was in the American Sign Language class. He went to loud concerts to feel them deep in his chest — to feel something over the void that is his lack of hearing. He'll never forget how it felt to see his mother sign to him his father died in a car crash. He'll never forget how it felt to watch his mother sign the whole funeral to him, as she did with just about every social event.
Another part of him has accepted there's nothing on his wrist. He thought this meant he didn't have a soulmate, because the first words you ever hear your soulmate say are on the inside of your left wrist. That was a blank space he covered with bracelets to mask the sting he still feels from not having someone to spend the rest of his life with. He understood his mom was the only person who would put up with him for an entire lifetime, but still, why rub it in? Didn't he deserve happiness too? Maybe that's why the voices of people he'd never heard speak before are so mean. He doesn't know how they got there or when, but he knows his mom's is the kindest of all of them, always telling him he'll be okay.
He doesn't always believe it.
--
Mackenzie grew up with heart problems. In and out of the hospital, for tests and visits and surgeries. He's got countless 'Get Well' teddy bears and cards lining a shelf on his wall. He never minded people bringing him things, he just didn't like that it was sympathetic. He knows he would've never gotten it had it been just a normal life. But his life was far from normal and he's not sure he enjoyed it. Why did he have to be out of school so much, drowning in make up work and barely keeping his grades up to stay on the basketball team? Was there a sign on his back that said "Dear life: kick me."? That's what it felt like sometimes.
Usually, he'd have something to look forward to. Most people would look down at their wrist and find their reason to keep breathing. Mackenzie didn't have that. He didn't have the first word you hear your soulmate say. He thought maybe he didn't have a soulmate. He thought more than once about telling the doctors he was in more pain than he actually was just so they'd overdose him on pain medication. But he didn't, for whatever reason. For that little voice deep down somewhere that told him to stay alive and be honest. Because maybe there was something else out there for him.
He was right.
--
Neither of them knew that one day, knowing sign language fluently would come in handy. Neither of them knew that one day, Dalton's blue eyes would meet Mackenzie's brown and something would click and Mackenzie would nervously sign "hello" and "I'm sorry", but not after slowly figuring out Dalton is deaf. They didn't know that they were soulmates until long after hanging out together, and admitting that neither of them had a tattoo on their wrist. They didn't know that they would get the signs for "oops!" and "hi!" tattooed where their words should be. They would defy the odds and neither of them knew the other yet.
Perhaps it was written somewhere in the stars or maybe it was the scars on their hearts. These two, were, without a doubt, destined to be together. Dalton molded perfectly around Mackenzie and he wasn't sure he'd ever be the same if Mack left suddenly. Before Mack, the world was black. He could see just fine, but everything was monotonous. Nothing changed, nothing ever exciting happened. He stayed home and strummed on a guitar he couldn't hear after school. Mackenzie added the white, and together they made grey — the grey of the clouds before storm. They concocted the perfect love and swirled the world in a hurricane.
--
Record Store Day 2016. Dalton was waiting on the release of his favorite band's record, Home. For some godforsaken reason, Mackenzie had ended up in Texas visiting some relative he never bothered to get to know. Maybe he'd regret it later, but for now, the only thing he could see was the pretty boy with frosted blonde hair and eyes the color of arctic ice lined with midnight black eyeliner rummaging through a sale bin of old records, his face lighting up when finding Use Your Illusion I by Guns 'N' Roses. His hair was folded back in a black beanie that slouched slightly. His jeans were the perfect color of faded and had rips in the knees. His black v-neck hugged his shoulders just right and the grey and red plaid he had tied around his waist went along with the whole punk vibe. Mackenzie's favorite part was his shoes. Black Doc Martens with white roses. The boy seemed to pay no attention to Mackenzie as he studied the record in his hands. Mackenzie knew he needed to talk to this boy before he left, but the question was how to go about it. If he knew anything about Guns 'N' Roses, then he'd strike up a conversation about that. But Mackenzie doesn't listen to a lot of rock so unfortunately, he has no idea why this boy is so interested in a vinyl with a cover the color of flames. Mackenzie is so unfortunately drawn to the boy that even though he has no idea what he's doing, his feet are carrying him over to the punk mystery who may be the prettiest boy he's ever seen. The boy places Use Your Illusion in the now-noticeable stack of vinyl next to him, flipping through once again and pulling out an Elvis record. Mackenzie notices that he's got Blue October, Guns 'N' Roses, Gerard Way, and The Beatles in the stack. He sits down next to him, paging through the varying vinyls of all different genres. Mackenzie is trying to catch glimpses at him, trying to figure him out. He wonders why he seems so unfazed by the loud store. Between the music and all the people, it's pretty noisy. Right now, the boy has just put the soundtrack from Elvis's Blue Hawaii movie in the stack. He finally gets the courage to talk to what he wishes was his soulmate.
"So you're a fan of Elvis?"
No response. Mackenzie quickly looked to see if he was hiding earbuds under his black beanie. Nope. Nothing there. So was he ignoring Mackenzie? His mind told him no, but his heart said yes. He's not interested. Oh, but what if he is? What if he's deaf? Nope, nope, nope, just kidding. He's getting up and walking away. No, you punk angel, get back here we gotta get married. Too bad Mackenzie's thoughts stayed inside his head. Even if they didn't, it wouldn't matter because Dalton couldn't hear him.
//
It was getting close to the time Mackenzie had to go home, but he really wanted to talk to the boy. He had come up with a plan to just give him his number and go, that way it'd be up to the boy whether or not they talked. But what if he's not gay? Mackenzie huffed a bit. Mind, you need to shut up. He found some vinyls he had been wanting, including a rare Prince one. He dug a sharpie out of his pocket, scribbling his number on the back. He was just getting ready to go look for the boy he so desperately wanted to see when someone ran into him, nearly knocking him over. Dalton, forgetting that sometimes, random strangers don't know sign language signed to Mackenzie, “oops.” Mackenzie, seeing it, signed back “hi” and “I'm sorry I didn't see you” with slightly shaky hands because holy shit it was him. Dalton, with a bright smile on his face because fuck the cutest boy I've ever seen knows sign language, signs back, “no, I'm the one who should pay attention.” All too quickly, Mackenzie realizes he really has to go so he shoves the receipt, sharpie side up into Dalton's hands, and walks away, signing, “hope you text me” with the prettiest smile Dalton has ever seen. Dalton looks down at it, reads the little note, sees his number and his name. Mackenzie. Mackenzie and Dalton. They'd make a good pair.
--
As soon as Dalton goes backstage to meet his favorite band, Blue October, he decides to text Mackenzie. He's last in line, and no he's not nervous, because he's done this a million times before. He's best buds with the lead vocalist. They always hang out after shows. He taps in Mackenzie's number, entering in, “Hey, it's Dalton from the record store though I doubt I actually introduced myself.”
He texted back almost immediately.
“Oh, hey! I'm Mackenzie. Mackenzie Bourg. Nice to meet you. :)”
“Nice to meet you too! Sorry for running into you today. I'm always a klutz like that.”
“It's okay, I'm all good. So how was your day?”
“It was good. Got some vinyl I really wanted, which made me happy. If only I could hear it.”
Mackenzie almost completely forgot Dalton is deaf. If he can't hear his soulmate, does he have a tattoo where their first words should be? It would make sense if he didn't, but maybe his was the first words his soulmate signed to him. The small talk continued on, Dalton nearly forgetting he was in line until he felt a tap on his shoulder. Justin was in front of him, smirking a bit. He signed to Dalton, “meet somebody?” with a wink. Dalton's head tilted down slightly, thinking. Mackenzie seemed sweet, and he thought Dalton was cute. He was also equally fascinated by abandoned mental hospitals and insane asylums. Dalton liked this guy. A lot. So he nodded, at first just a bit, as if he was unsure of himself, then nodding more confidently, a slight smile on his lips. Justin broke into a wider smile, hoping that Dalton had met his “secret soulmate”. Dalton's phone made a “ping”, Mackenzie's text tone. He glanced down at it, reading, “the world is ugly, but you're beautiful to me.” Dalton gasped, smiling wider than he had all day. I've gotta flirt back. He unlocked his phone, typing in, “you can drag me through hell, if it meant I could hold your hand.” He pressed ‘send’ and went back to Justin.
“You were amazing today. The lyrics to the new record are great,” he smiled.
Justin signed back, “thanks man! You seemed to be having fun with your little boyfriend today.”
“Dad, no,” Dalton signed with an eye roll. He'd taken to calling Justin “dad” since he was the father figure in Dalton's life after his real one died. Justin didn't mind. He had the son he always wanted, and was completely okay with said son being gay. Justin laughed a little bit, Dalton knowing he was joking by the look on his face. His phone sounded the “ping” again. He pulled it out to look at what cute thing Mackenzie sent back.
“It’s a beautiful night, we're lookin’ for something dumb to do. Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you. :)”
Alright, Dalton knew he had to date this guy. Soulmates or not, though this could totally destroy him, he needs to do it.
“Are you free tomorrow?”
“I can be.”
“Meet me at Central State Hospital tomorrow at 5?”
“If I knew you liked abandoned mental hospitals before five minutes ago, we could've skipped all this and went straight to the part where I propose and we get married.”
“How do you know you’re gonna propose?”
“Just a gut feeling.”
“We may not even be soulmates. I don't have anything on my wrist…”
“I don't either, and I guess it makes sense cause we haven't heard each other yet, right? See you tomorrow, pretty boy ;) goodnight <3”
“Goodnight <3”
Dalton shoved his phone back in his pocket, smiling.
“Got a date?” Justin winked.
“Tomorrow.”
He gasped. “Nuh uh.”
Dalton nodded, looking forward to a tomorrow for once.
--
Dalton knows Mack’s only here for a week. Dalton knows he can’t stay in Texas forever, but he wishes he could. Maybe they’re rushing things a bit, but when things feel so right, and you’ve only got so long to see them before you’re aching to have them in your arms again, it’s worth the rush. Maybe they clicked a little too much, but Dalton can feel himself falling and he doesn’t even care. If this beautiful brown-eyed boy is the death of him, that’s how he wants to go.
The day passed slowly, Dalton looking for something to keep him distracted until 4:30. He'd never been this anxious for a date. What he considered a date. 4:30 finally rolled around and Dalton was practically bouncing when he walked out to his car. His mother signed to him, “Use protection!”, giving him a wink and a kiss on the cheek. His face was bright red and he rolled his eyes so hard they almost fell out of his head, but he signed back “I love you” anyways. She just smiled, waving him off. He hopped in the car, feeling the vibrations of the strong engine and Adam Lambert’s “Trespassing” coursing through the speakers. Just because he couldn't hear the music doesn't mean he couldn't feel it.
He backed out and drove all the way to Central State Hospital, tapping on his steering wheel as he waited for Mackenzie, or as he knew him in his mind, my boyfriend. This place already gave him the creeps, and he loved it. He had done endless research on this place, but never thought he'd actually be able to see it. Soon enough, Mack’s little red Jeep Cherokee pulled up right beside Dalton's black Chevy Camaro. They both hopped out, meeting in front of Dalton's car. Neither boy expected the hug that ensued, but they weren't complaining. Mackenzie had a hundred thoughts running through his head at a million miles an hour.
Wow, he smells good. His leather jacket is soft. He fits perfectly against me.
Dalton was nearly thinking the same thing, though his exact thoughts were more along the lines of: Holy shit, he’s touching me. Okay, Dalton, BREATHE. He’s so fluffy I’m gonna die. It was over nearly as soon as it started, but both boys were smiling wide when they pulled back.
“Did you sleep good?”
Maybe Mack noticed the ever-present purple bags under Dalton's eyes, despite the fact that he gets about seven hours of sleep most nights. Some nights his thoughts get to him, and he knows that as a 20-year-old, he probably shouldn't have gauze and medical tape and a lethal mix of pills in his nightstand drawer. Last night, though, he had to drink tea because he was too excited to go to sleep. This morning, he drank a Monster with his toast. He's still feeling it.
“For the most part, yeah, did you?”
He nods, smiling.
“Ready to go in?”
Dalton took a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling a “yeah”. He wasn't gonna lie, he was a bit nervous. So many things could happen. There could be spirits in here. Blood on the walls. Medical equipment now seen as torture methods. Old lobotomy equipment. Dalton shuddered. He didn't wanna think about having his brains picked apart, thank you very much. Mackenzie looked him over.
“If you get scared, grab my hand, alright? Let's go.”
They began walking towards what could be a possible entrance. The metal door needed to be tugged a bit before the rust broke loose. Slowly striding in what was definitely the lobby of the residential home, they glanced around, taking in the collapsing ceiling and dilapidated decorations. The two chairs left near the desk were rotted like a corpse left hung in the woods. The only light left was the bit of the sunlight they had, and it was soon to be faded quickly, as it was late September. Mackenzie looked at his watch, thinking what Dalton was thinking.
“We've got about an hour and fifteen minutes.”
“Then why are we standing here?”
Mackenzie smirked at Dalton, really liking him. Dalton began walking down a hallway, stopping abruptly.
“Wait, how are we gonna know our way back?”
Mackenzie stared at him.
“We won't go too far. Just down this hallway, look in the rooms, take our time with it. I'm getting kinda creeped just standing here, and we haven't even seen anything yet.”
“Yeah, same actually.”
Dalton peered in the first room as he spoke, jumping back immediately. Blood on the walls, as suspected. Mackenzie hadn't seen it yet, though, so he walked the rest of the way to Dalton, putting a hand on his lower back, gazing in the room as he signed, “woah, there, don't fall,” before a “holy shit, yeah, okay, moving on.” Neither of them mentioned that he kept his hand on Dalton's back. They walked the four feet or so to the next door in the corridor, checking before entering. There was only a rusty bed frame and a chair that looked exactly like the ones in the lobby. Everything seemed okay until they glanced right at the closet doors, seeing scratch marks on them. Dalton curled in closer to Mackenzie, grabbing his hand tightly.
“I think we should go.”
Mackenzie furiously nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, let's get out of here.”
They hightailed it out of the door they left cracked slightly to their cars, Mackenzie agreeing to meet Dalton at his house. They sped out of there, only slowing down to get on the interstate. Yeah, maybe deaf people weren't supposed to drive, but Dalton didn't care. He passed the test, and the only thing he needed was his middle finger if he felt somebody honk at him. They continued down the roads, Mackenzie's Cherokee following close behind his Camaro.
Once they pulled in, Dalton parked his Camaro, signing, “Wanna drive?” to which Mackenzie nodded. Dalton hopped in the Cherokee, grabbing Mackenzie's hand after he buckled in. Before the driver had a chance to ask his passenger where he wanted to go, Dalton signed, “Forget about the sunrise, fight the sleep in your eyes. I don't wanna miss a second with you.”
Mackenzie smiled a bit before leaning over the console. Dalton leaned in, knowing what was coming (and no, it wasn't him…yet). Before they knew it they were kissing one another and they just knew. It was the feeling they'd seen described in textbooks but never felt before now. It didn't exactly fit the description, but they sure as hell knew. They pulled back, wide-eyed, and Mackenzie was the first to sign something.
“So I had a soulmate… It's you.”
Dalton just stared at him for a little bit with a stupid grin on his face. He broke into a groan when he saw his mom cheering out of the corner of his eye. He buried his face in his hands, turning red. Mackenzie pulled his hands away, holding them, mouthing, “it's okay.” He kissed the younger boy's nose, then his lips again, just because he could.