Author's Note: Okay, so this first AN here is gonna be pretty important, so I hope people read it. I'd just like to say that as a person with full hearing, all of my knowledge about deafness and sign language comes from the volunteering I do telling stories to kids at the elementary school for deaf children in my city. I'll try to keep as accurate as possible regarding what it's like and how it feels to be deaf, but if I write anything that you feel is blatantly wrong or offensive (which I don't think I will/really hope I won't), then please feel free to message me and I'll correct myself immediately. The only change I'm consciously making is in the way I'll write the communication through sign language. Instead of translating what a person would really sign directly, I'm just going to type out how it would be spoken for clarity's sake. So if you see something and think "That's not how a deaf person would say that at all", that's why.

On a different note, I'm going to try and update this story at least once a week, hopefully twice or three times. The chapters might be a little short, but I don't want to leave anyone hanging. All in all, I hope you enjoy! (Also, reviews make the world go 'round)

Nicholas Duval was clumsy.

Many doctors would agree that a medical cause for this would be the severe damage done to his inner ears during a car accident that happened while he was in the third grade.

Nicholas Duval was also 100% deaf.

Many doctors would agree that this was because of the same reason.

All of them, actually.

When he first woke up after the wreck, Nick remembered, it could only be described as disorienting; stumbling around the hospital room, calling for his mom, and not being sure if he was even making noise. It was a lot for an eight year old to take in, and the ironical deafening silence had been terrifying. For weeks after returning home, Nick would sit in his room, hiding away from the world he now felt so detached from. He'd stare at the clock on his wall and think "tick-tock, tick-tock" to himself as loudly as he could, trying to recreate the sound that had so often annoyed him in the early hours of the morning when he couldn't sleep, and now felt so lonely without. On especially bad days, he'd start screaming. He'd scream as hard as he could, and wouldn't stop until his teary-eyed mother rushed in to tell him that it was okay. He didn't do it because he was scared, but rather because whenever he closed his eyes, it felt like the world had stopped, and his mother coming in assured him that she could still hear him. That he was still real.

But Nicholas Duval's world had been silent for years now, and things were different. He had come to appreciate the silence; it was peaceful. He'd also become adept at getting his point across to people who didn't know sign language, so communication was a non-issue for him as well. Nick may have technically had a disability, but he didn't feel like he was disabled. Sure, sometimes he would miss things like laughter and music, but he was happy.

Nick was proud and confident about who he was, and had no desire to change. He knew he could handle himself out in the real world, which was what led him to beg his parents night and day for the chance to "be a real part of society". He loved his parents. He really, truly did, and they'd been supportive of him from day one; learning how to sign alongside him, and getting certified to homeschool; but Nick wanted out of the house. He wanted to make real friends, and go to a real school; even though the nearest high school that catered to deaf kids was hours away from his father's work, and didn't board.

So maybe he was being a little bit dramatic as he slammed the door to his room shut and threw himself onto his bed, sighing what he hoped was very loudly.

So maybe he was refusing to take "no" as an answer, and his parents had no idea how to deal with it.

So what?

He'd never asked for one single thing before in his life, always been the epitome of polite and well-mannered, and never disobeyed his parents.

Surely he could have this one thing, right?

At that moment the door to his room opened, and his mother peeked her head in, frowning at her son curiously before deciding that it was okay to enter. The tall brunette woman sat on the edge of Nick's bed, and stroked his hair briefly before turning his head to look at her.

"Nick, you have to understand…" she signed, and the boy rolled his eyes, turning away.

Apparently not.

"Nick." His mother started again, barely concealing her frustration, "That school… It's a good school, it really is, and your father and I do want you to go. We want that for you. But we can't afford to move. Your father's work is here, Nick. There's no way."

Nick furrowed his brow, running his hands over his face in exasperation. "Could I get an apartment nearby?"

The woman laughed, and shook her head. "Nick, you're seventeen. I'm sorry, but no."

The boy with dark hair that matched his mother's sat up, crossing his legs on the bed in an attempt to appear more business-like. He still wasn't ready to take no for an answer. It would have made the tiny woman smile how much like herself that her son was, if not for the fact that she was so certain she could only disappoint him in this.

"What about neighboring schools? Do any of them board? I could enroll at Cabroll's for classes, but board someplace else." Nick persisted, convicted to try every possibility.

"I don't think it works that way, honey,"

"Why not?"

"It's not…" The hopelessness in the eyes of Adrianne Duval's only child made her take pause, and she conceded, "Okay. I can look into it."

Nick brightened instantly, frown pulling up into a grin as he shifted in place, pleased by the current change in affairs. "Excellent." He signed, a somewhat smug look on his face. "Thank you, mom."

"Yeah, yeah." The woman stood, smiling fondly as she ruffled her son's hair. "But don't get your hopes up." She walked to the door, picking up off of Nick's desk the brochure for Cabroll's School for the Deaf that he had printed out last week. "And for the love of God, Nick, clean your room. Your clothes have a home, and it's called the closet, not the floor"

Nick waited only until the door closed before jumping up off his bed, fist pumping the air. Maybe, just maybe, this dream would come true.