Chapter Text
Michael pulled his bike out of the garage to the front of the house. His mother, Lucy, waved at him to get his attention. She mimed turning the key to a vehicle and pointed to the houses around them then to her ear.
Michael rolled his eyes. Who cares if he wakes the neighbors? They aren’t going to see them again anyways. The Emerson family was leaving and never looking back. But he turned the bike off and started to help fill the U-Haul.
Sam walked through with a box in his hands full of his comic books. His mouth was running but of course he never looked directly at Michael so he had no way of knowing what he was saying. Michael watched as Sam carried the box, hands full and yet talking to their mom like it was nothing.
Michael held his hands out, offering to take the box for him. Sam spoke. A lot. And quickly. Even when talking directly to Michael, Michael wasn’t understanding a word. Michael rolled his eyes, waved Sam off and continued packing without a word.
Once everything was packed his mother came over and put a hand on his shoulder, she showed him some tourist brochure for where they were going. Santa Carla. There was a picture of the ocean at a beach on the front. His mom tapped the water and gave an uncertain smile.
Michael forced one in return. As if a change of scenery was going to magically fix everything. But to be honest, he couldn’t wait to get away either. He didn’t care where they were going, nothing could be worse than here.
As they all started to get in the car his mom waved to get his attention again. He looked and she very animatedly gave the house where they were living two middle fingers.
Despite himself, Michael smiled and did so as well. Sam excitedly joined in, glad he was giving permission to do something taboo.
They piled in the car and off they went, leaving Arizona, the Joshua trees, the old house and Michael’s dead beat dad behind.
Grandpa’s house was… loud. Michael had no other word for it. Visually, that is. There were things everywhere. Mostly dead things. Apparently grandpa was into taxidermy. Because that’s not creepy at all.
Sam caught Michael’s eye by miming himself going crazy with a chainsaw. Michael gave a small smile and shook his head. Then mimed the motion of stabbing someone repeatedly. Sam laughed.
Michael turned and started unpacking while his brother and mom continued to talk. When Michael walked past with a box and Sam was still just standing there Michael nudged him and motioned with his head to the box in his hands.
Instead Sam looked around until he found a remote, then started looking, probably for the tv it went to. He clicked it and Michael watched as both his brother and mom jumped and covered their ears. Michael looked around confused until his mom took off a blanket that was covering a stereo.
Babies. It couldn’t have been that loud or Michael would have at the very least felt the vibrations. He might not have heard it but back in Arizona some of his friends at the Phoenix School for the Deaf had taught him that if music was loud enough they could still feel the vibrations in their chest. Enjoying the music even when Deaf.
Sam looked outright offended by the very existence of the stereo. Instead of helping unpack he went upstairs. Surprise, surprise. Michael thought.
There was a giant shoulder mount of a deer on the living room couch. Michael figured if he took that to the garage he could sit on the couch while he unpacked. When he went to pick it up though he nearly dropped it as pain shot up his right side.
His mom hurried over, hands hovering over him. Michael waved her away and walked away with the stupid deer.
When Michael came back Sam was finally back downstairs speaking animatedly to their mother. He was visibly still upset. Michael was not going to deal with this. He grabbed his sleeveless jean jacket and the keys to his motorcycle.
His mom caught him by the arm and gave him a questioning look. He pointed to the door. She shook her head and held out her hand for the keys.
Michael dropped them in her hands, but still turned away and walked out the door, not letting her have time to stop him. If Sam wasn’t going to bother to help unpacking then he wasn’t going to either. It wasn’t his sole job to unpack from this move alone.
He didn’t ask for any of this. Though he knew Sam probably blamed him. If Michael hadn’t triggered dad into that last fight… then maybe his entire right side of his torso wouldn’t be black and blue. And of course Sam would never blame dad for that. No, Michael getting the shit beat out of him was his own damn fault.
Michael walked out of the house and looked around, not even sure what direction to go. But he saw a boardwalk in the distance and soon his feet just started moving.
Michael leaned against the rail of the boardwalk, watching the water. Around him people walked by from all walks of life. A suburban mom with her kids carrying cotton candy, all sun burnt to a crisp. Teenagers gathered around the French fry stall, probably gossiping. There was a surprising number of people wearing gothic punk rock attire.
Somehow, being among all these strangers ignoring him and going about their lives felt less lonely than being in that house with his own family that tried to pretend was normal and happy, but couldn’t even communicate to each other on any meaningful level.
It wasn’t always that way. Michael wasn’t born Deaf like most of his friends from school. He didn’t lose his hearing until he was seven.
His family tried to pretend like it didn’t happen. They kept him in a regular school for as long as they could but when he was in danger of flunking an entire grade they finally admitted defeat and sent him to a school for the Deaf.
His first day there was the first time he ever saw sign language. No one had ever presented that as an option before. It was hell to try to learn the entire language while also trying to learn basic reading and arithmetic but Michael came home so excited to show his mom and dad that there was a whole language for people like him.
But his father forbade it in the house. Punished Michael for any attempt to sign with his family. If his dad caught him doing it in public literally anywhere other than school the second he got home he would be punished severely. As a literal child it probably took a little too long for Michael to piece the puzzle together that he wasn’t allowed to sign. But Michael eventually understood. He was supposed to remain fully verbal and lip read. Not depend on anyone else learning a language for his benefit.
Not even his own family.
There were other kids at school whose parents didn’t sign. It wasn’t terribly uncommon. But Michael still felt a pang of jealousy every time he saw a friend signing with their parents or siblings.
Michael leaned forward until his head hit his hands on the railing. He doubted Santa Carla had a school for the Deaf. It was usually only big cities like Phoenix who did. So he would be back to being mainstreamed in the fall. Lucky him.
Michael stood like that for a while until he started to feel something deep in his chest. A beat. He looked around and saw a crowd gathering. He followed it and the beat got stronger and stronger. Finally he reached a stage. Some band was playing– loud and hard.
Michael paid no attention to them at all. He closed his eyes, putting a hand on his chest, and felt the music. He could feel it through his entire body. He couldn’t resist the smile coming to his lips. He stood there soaking it all in. He used to love music. But since becoming Deaf he could only enjoy it at a volume most would consider unacceptable so getting to enjoy it was rare. Maybe Santa Carla wouldn’t be that bad after all.
After the last song ended, Michael lingered while the crowd dispersed. He didn’t want it to end. When he finally did start to make his way back to the board walk proper, a hand grabbed him by the elbow.
Michael turned around, confused, and saw a guy around his age with almost white blond hair. Behind him a girl with locks and a purple skirt also looked at Michael expectantly. He said something to Michael, but Michael pointed to his ear and shook his head.
The guy looked surprised at that. He jerked his head toward the girl and the girl handed the white haired guy a poster. He took a sharpie out of his overcoat pocket and scribbled on it and then handed it to Michael.
THE LOST BOYS it said with a picture of a band featuring the girl and the guy. He has scribbled on it in a messy cursive “Come back tomorrow.”
Michael looked up and the white haired guy winked and walked away, with the girl in purple following behind.
Michael was relieved to find out that apparently live bands playing was pretty common here. He definitely wanted to come back.
Michael returned to the boardwalk and saw his mother and brother also there. He was tempted to slink away before they saw him but his mother saw him first and waved him over.
Michael walked over and then noticed the two of them weren’t alone. There was a man standing there as well that Michael didn’t know wearing a cheesy too perfect smile.
He looked to his mom and watched her lips carefully to try to piece together some kind of context. Michael, this— M—. He — video store just — way (weigh?) a little. He actually — me.
Yeah, that was not a lot of help. All that effort for nothing. Michael just gave a semi confused little wave. His mother turned to the man, M something, to say something.
The man held out his hand for a handshake and Michael shook it half heartedly. Then the man left.
Michael looked at his mom, still confused. She had an exasperated expression as if to say “I literally just told you this.” So he just ignored it and followed her and his brother home, his brother holding a bag filled to the brim with comic books and speaking a mile a minute.