488;

[flair]

Title: nai mono nedari
Characters: Black, Leonardo Watch, White; Emma Macbeth in passing
Rating: G

your characters have been trapped in a world where the only other person they can speak to lives on the other side of a glass wall. they have spent all their time talking to each other, living like this, in limbo. (source)


first year.
they meet when he's fifteen years old one bright, summer day. will stares at the boy across the wall that isn't his reflection at all, with his curly brown hair and sun-tanned skin (comparable to will's own pink, sun burnt and warm). the other boy presses a hand to the wall, then raises it up to soundlessly pound on the glass, and

will runs, not stopping until there's stitches in his side and he's at home, his parents barely giving him a glance as he slides into the kitchen and his sister raising her eyebrows at his heated face, his ragged breaths, the panic settling into his bloodstream like ice in a cup of soda.



「you shouldn't have run,」 mary writes on the sheet of paper between them. will gives her a pained look and she rolls her eyes, tapping her pencil to get his attention back off of her. 「i'm serious!!!! you could have been friends.」

she stares at the word for a moment, then underlines it. 「friends.」

will stares at it, too; the two of them stay like that until their mother taps them on the shoulder for dinner, and the suntanned boy slips out of their thoughts as they slip out of their chairs.



the next time they meet, it's in winter; the sun is hidden by clouds, giving everything a muted, dull look. will's patting down the next level of his snow house when a figure moves in his peripheral and he turns, expecting to see mary getting ready to pelt him with a snowball.

there's not that, though. there's the brunet from before, hands tight around a sled. he's less bundled up than will (boy, does he envy the people who don't get cold as easily), but his nose is red and beneath his blue puffball hat sits a pair of equally blue, inquisitive eyes.

「friends,」 his mind writes and underlines for him in mary's script.



he isn't sure how it happens, but that winter, he spends more time outside in the cold than he ever has before. his mom comments on it with a line of teasing signs and he burns bright red, shaking his head. 'it isn't like that,' he signs back. 'i have a house i need to take care of.'

and then he's off, kicking up puffs of snow behind him. his sides are in stitches as he arrives before leonardo (a name he learned three days into signing in front of the glass between them), and he collapses into a bed of white fluff, chest aching for air. he watches snowflakes swirl above against opaque overcast and laughs, feels it expand out of him and watches his breath trail off with whatever sound there must have been ringing out in the lonely winter.

he turns to look at the glass wall, to wait for leonardo, but he's already there; his mouth is open, mittens pressed against the glass, and will stares as a chill replaces the happiness bouncing in his blood. he sits up, crossing his legs under him with a crease in his forehead, and signs, 'what's wrong?'

"i could hear you laugh," leonardo replies, voice weak, signing the words out of habit.

three things click in will's mind, almost all at once: leonardo's lips were moving; he was talking aloud; he could hear it, when he couldn't even hear the birds in the trees or his parents or his sister anymore. the breath catches in his throat just like the first summer day he'd seen him, and will whines softly. leonardo nods frantically, and will searches for his lost voice to reply in kind.

"i can hear you," he manages, hands moving just the same. as expected, he can't hear himself, but he can feel the words vibrating out of his lips, and he recognizes the surprise and joy on leonardo's face as him having heard them too. will swallows hard, forcing himself to stand, and thanks a higher power for not letting him crash into the glass when he heads towards it.

he sets his gloved hands on the same spot as leonardo's mittens, staring at him, and grins a little.



「you're making it up,」 mary writes, and will shakes his head.

'it's totally true, mary. we talked all day, and he had a nice voice—i think? i don't have any voices to compare it to, but it sounded nice.'

「bullshit.」 a pained look, and mary rolls her eyes, marking out the last half of the word and adding a different set of letters. 「bullshitCRUD.」

'i wouldn't lie to you,' he signs back, but his sister's already turned away, back to the television. will stares at her with a frown, then sighs and resumes watching the subtitles flicker past alongside her.



"mary didn't believe me when i told her i could hear you."

leonardo laughs (it is fast becoming his favorite sound, replacing his heart with booming thunder every time it occurs) and nods, patting snow together for a snowman.

"i probably wouldn't believe you either." will watches him roll it around a few more times before stopping, studying it. "michella did though. sort of. i think? she didn't say she didn't not believe me."

leonardo starts on another ball (torso) and will hums softly, content to rest against the glass wall between them. it's cold on his back, even through his layers, but he can hear leonardo better like this, can catch the snippets of christmas tunes sung in a dozen different variations beneath his breath. he doesn't remember which ones, if any of them, are right

but he knows he likes the way leonardo's voice sounds, full of the holiday spirit despite the fact he probably hasn't heard one in two or three years, and that's enough to keep him smiling.

second year.
leonardo turns sixteen fifteen days before he does; he doesn't stop teasing will about it, gently ribbing him about how he needs to respect his elders every time will makes a joke at his expense, and will finds he isn't half as irritated with the treatment as mary seems to be when he brings up their ten minutes difference.

it passes as quick as it comes, and summer is hot again. at least this time he has company to sweat it out with, even though leonardo never burns the way he does. and oh, does will burn, with the sun on his skin and a fire that ignites every time leonardo's popsicle melts quicker than he eats it and he has to catch the dribbling ice cream with his tongue, curling it against his forearm.

will wants to die.



it's during one of those days that leonardo asks, "do you like anyone?"

the question settles heavy on his chest, sticking to his skin like the windless day. will holds his popsicle between his teeth instead of answering, leading leonardo to bang on the glass behind him; he can feel the vibrations, especially when he closes his eyes. he bites the tip of it off, swirling it around in his mouth as he turns to stare at his friend from the corner of his eye, and swallows when it gets small enough.

"i don't know. why?"

"there's a girl at school i think's kind of cute, and i feel... weird whenever we talk. honestly," leonardo sighs, leaning back against the glass; his hands are probably fidgeting the way they've been the past few months, half-ready to sign despite knowing they don't need it. "she could probably talk about anything and i'd find it interesting, you know?"

will doesn't like the feeling that makes him want to run home to his sister yet keeps him glued to the ground, listening to leonardo not wait for his reply and continue on. he wishes he could hear the cicadas vibrating on the trees and the wind on the leaves, making them dance high above, but he settles for keeping his eyes closed when he slowly curls up and presses his face to his knees. the popsicle in his hand leaves sticky red marks on whatever it leans against too long, and when leonardo asks if something's wrong, will tilts his head back against the glass and laughs, waving his popsicle in the oppressive summer heat.

"the heat's just getting to me, i think."



the girl's name is jennifer, and for three months straight, she's all leonardo talks about. how pretty her smile is, what wonderful thing she did that day, how cute her laugh is, how funny her jokes are. how breathtaking she looks in his camera lens. how the other day, when she stretched, her shirt pulled up enough to see her stomach.

he felt his heart stop, then. will watches leonardo flop onto the ground, the motion shifting his tank top up enough to expose a sliver of skin, and understands.

understanding how leonardo feels doesn't help how that girl's name hits him just beneath his rib cage every time it sighs out of his mouth, and will watches the first leaves of fall dance across the ground with as little attention to the conversation as he can muster without being completely rude. he doesn't even know why it feels so bad—it'd never been like this before, when leonardo'd talk about the people he knew and the things he liked. he offers advice with words he can't recall but sentiments he can, wanting to see leonardo smile despite how hollow he feels his words are, how sick they must sound pulled forcibly from his larynx.

'carved out,' he tells mary, dragging his thumb against his palm while she stares from her spot on the couch. 'i don't know why.'

he doesn't know why he's telling her either, when she doesn't even believe him about hearing leonardo talk, but it isn't like he has anyone else to ask, he guesses. he waits for her reply, nails digging into his palms, and feels his father's music vibrate through the house.

'maybe you like him,' she finally signs back. will frowns at her, tilting his head to the side, and mary rolls her eyes at him. 'you're jealous of that girl because he talks about her all the time. he never talks about you like that, does he?'

'he wouldn't do that to me anyway. it'd be to someone else.'

but there's no one he can ask about that. will wants to look anywhere else but his sister's pitying countenance, but he doesn't want to miss her signs, either—it's difficult. he wishes he could hear her again. it'd make this easier.

'besides,' he continues, once it's clear she's not going to say anything else, 'i don't like hearing him talk about her. leonardo said he likes everything she says, no matter what it is.'

'and that means you don't like him,' mary states; will feels like it should be a question, but she makes no gestures to suggest that, so he nods and tucks his hands into his pockets. 'if you ask me,' mary signs, rolling her eyes again, 'that's just more proof that you do like him.'

will scrunches his nose at her emphasis and mary shrugs, turning back to her magazine.



he becomes so used to tuning leonardo's jennifer this, jennifer that talk that when he's being addressed properly, his name ever sweeter than some girl's, he doesn't immediately recognize it. it takes a few calls, a few solid bangs on the glass behind him, before will turns his head at stares at leonardo.

leonardo sighs, dropping down to his knees, and will rocks his body until they're facing each other.

"i got really worried for a second there—i thought you couldn't hear me anymore. i swear, i felt like i was gonna cry," leonardo says with a laugh, but there's nothing happy about it; it's relieved, more than anything, and will's heart flutters against his chest in a mix of guilt and pleasure. "you okay? you seem kinda out of it."

"just thinking about something my sister suggested to me," will answers, gaze turning downwards as he worries at fallen leaves to keep his hands from springing up and talking for him. "what were you saying again? about—about jennifer."

he tries his best to sound as nonchalant as possible, but he can't bear to look up and see if he manages it. leonardo hums, hands joining his on the other side of the wall in tearing apart leaves, but there's nothing inherently bad about it.

"nothing, actually."

will's heart stops in his chest; leonardo's not looking at him when he looks up, lips pressed together, and leonardo continues to talk without giving him a glance.

"i noticed a while back you tuned out whenever i got on the topic, so i just... stopped."

"sorry," he whispers. leonardo glances up, brow furrowed, and will wills his voice not to crack when he clears his throat and repeats it louder. it doesn't work—it feels like it breaks in the middle—and leonardo shakes his head, gaze dropping back down and his hands hard at work stripping leaves down the middle.

"it's okay. must've been pretty boring for you, huh?"

boring doesn't feel like the right word, but will agrees with a soft sound anyway; he doesn't want to think about the alternative, about how mary might be right, and more than that he wants to shove this conversation under a rug as quickly as possible. leonardo's smile is half sad, half apologetic, and will leans forward with a sigh.

"but i didn't mind it. you sounded really happy, leonardo. i just..." he hesitates, staring at leonardo across the wall, and glances away. "i was jealous, i guess. worried. that if you liked someone and started going out with them, you wouldn't have time to come hang out with me? i'm sorry, it's really dumb, i know, but—"

"like i said, it's okay." he sounds a little happier though, and when will looks at him out of the corner of his eye, he's smiling. "i don't think it's dumb at all though. i see a lot of girls in my class worry about the same thing actually, and i sort of feel that way with some of my friends... i wouldn't tell them though. it'd feel kinda weird to say that to a bunch of guys, you know?"

will laughs awkwardly, bouncing his leg, and closes his mouth when leonardo holds up a hand to signal he's not done yet.

"i guess what i'm trying to say is that it was pretty cool of you to say something. even if it took a while." he frowns a little, then leans closer to the glass; will watches his lips twitch twice before he's talking again. "next time something's bothering you though, let me know sooner, okay? i don't want our friendship to end over something dumb. not that i thought it would this time or anything but—yeah."

"sure thing," will replies after a moment, sitting back on his hands. the ground is cold under them and in his nails where he's dug into the soil, and the grass is static to his hyper-aware skin. "you too."

leonardo nods, and will smiles.

there's no way he can slip up again.

third year.
jennifer's time passes, but there are other names after hers. melissa, caitlyn, hannah. hearing "mary" makes him jump until he realizes it isn't his sister leonardo's talking about. in a quiet voice will almost doesn't hear, there's james, and it at least gives him a little hope that leonardo has an interest they share outside of hearing someone's voice, but it goes quicker than any girl's and leonardo never mentions crushing on a guy again.

he rarely mentions crushing on anyone again, and when will asks him about it, leonardo laughs in that way he does when he doesn't really feel like talking about it and shrugs, gaze drifting away. will watches him and his crinkled brow, the way his adam's apple bobs when he swallows, and turns back to watching the flowers sway across the clearing they've been meeting in for three years now. the flowers are new and colorful, a sight for sore eyes—when he comments on it, leonardo's slow to reply, and when will looks back to see if he's still looking uncomfortable he catches his gaze trained steadfastly on him.

it's quiet, even for a world without sound; there's no wind, no grass scratching at his knees, no pounding in his chest. there's just the two of them, sky colored like blue paint stretched too thin over a canvas, and he sees leonardo jerk his head down the same time he does out of the corner of his eye.

"it's really hot today, isn't it," will remarks, once the still moment's passed and the wind's tossing flower petals about again. leonardo agrees with a soft sound, and will focuses on making grasswhistles neither of them can hear instead of what other sounds his company could make.

"maybe we should split up early today," he remarks again, once he's tired of his busywork (a total of half a minute later, even though it feels like it's been hours upon hours and like the sun should be setting instead of settling hot on his shoulders). leonardo agrees with another soft sound, and will gives him a small wave, not looking over to see if he gets one in reply.

his steps are slow and sure at first, but the further he gets from the clearing and the glass wall and leonardo watch, the apparent love of his life, the faster he goes, until he slams into the house's front door with enough force to leave him feeling the vibrations long after he's laid down on the couch, his head in his mother's lap and a bag of ice set over a washcloth resting on his forehead.



'mom, how did you know you were in love with dad?'

emma macbeth studies her son intently; will feels shivers run down his spine and fidgets with the back of his shirt. she sets her spoon aside, cleaning tomato juice off her hands and onto her apron, and replies, 'when i realized he wouldn't last a day without me, and i didn't want him to.'

he frowns, twisting his shirt around his fingers until it hurts, then nods. he winces when she elbows him, a grin he's seen reflected in mary's face planted on hers.

'do you have someone you like?' she asks, and will immediately regrets shaking his head as quickly as he does in reply. it makes her grin stretch wider, and she leans against the stove with her hip while her hand dance through the air in a flurry. 'no need to be coy, william, it'll be just between us.'

'us and dad and mary,' he retorts, dragging it out, and she smiles guiltily. he scrunches his nose, thinking about it, and nods hesitantly as he replies with, 'maybe. i don't know if i do. that's why i asked.'

'you asked about love,' she replies, tapping his nose afterwards, and signs again. 'so the answer is yes, you like someone, and now you want to know if it's more than like. if it's love. isn't that right?'

it is, and he knows the way his face heats up is answer enough, but he turns his head to the simmering tomato sauce and pretends it's because of that and not because she's right. emma taps his cheek to get him to turn back, eyes narrowed the way a cat's are when it's done playing with a mouse.

'if you have to ask how someone else knew they were in love,' she signs to him, slowly and deliberately, 'then that means you are. simple as that.'

will watches her hands move seamlessly from signing to picking up her spoon and stirring the sauce, before he leans back against the counter and watches the clock's hands move in mechanical silence above the kitchen doorway.



after summer ends, but before the leaves begin to turn into sheets of twirling copper, mary stops him from biking out to the clearing. her hands are on her hips, bright red jacket nestled in the crook of her arm, and will stares for a moment before he kicks his bike's stand up and lets it rest beside him.

'what's up?' he asks, setting his hands back on his bike's bars afterwards. mary glances down at them, not answering immediately; she pulls on her jacket first, carefully tucking its black buttons into loops of thread, and frowns at him.

'i want to meet this boy,' she signs back. 'i want to meet your friend! you keep putting it off, and today i'm putting my foot down.'

'why today,' he signs back quickly, cheeks heating up; he knows it's not signed like a question, that it's as plaintive as he can manage without speaking, and mary raises her eyebrows.

'because,' she replies, deliberately slow with her motions, 'my band's going to be starting soon, and i have to practice percussion with allison, so i won't be able to visit that much. this is my last day of definite free time!'

will studies his sister as she tucks her pigtails into her jacket, pouting when it takes longer than necessary (and when he doesn't reply, too, green eyes focusing back on him every couple of seconds to make sure she doesn't miss a word). she's a very pretty young woman, and leonardo's admittance of a crush on a mary before makes him wonder if he'd get a crush on this mary, too.

he wonders if they'll be able to hear each other's voices, the way he and leonardo can. would he like hers better? how would mary feel about it? being able to hear leonardo's, the one shining moment of i told you so dampened by the inevitable joy and surprise he'd see, the envy he can already feel digging into his sides at the thought of leonardo being able to hear mary's voice when he can't even do that anymore.

'you can't come,' he signs back at last, even though he knows it won't stop her, and kicks his stand back up before he gets back on his bike. he steadies himself with a foot, shaking his head at mary when she tries to retort, and leaves.

trouble bubbles in his fingertips.



leonardo greets him softly when he arrives, ten minutes after will does, and will smiles for the briefest moment before he sees leonardo's gaze switch to over his shoulder instead of on him and hears him ask, "who's that?"

"is it a girl?"

a nod.

"red jacket? black stockings? plaid skirt?"

a nod after every item, and will thumps his head against the glass wall.

"my sister. she's wanted to meet you for a while, so she followed me."

"well, i've wanted to meet her too, so..." leonardo grins at him, looking back at mary inevitably drawing closer. "it works out pretty well, doesn't it?"

will shrugs, turning around to face her; she's red-faced and out of breath, and he presses his lips together tightly. mary comes to rest beside him, groaning—he assumes, going by the amused look leonardo's wearing when he glances at him—and closes his eyes.

'leonardo, this is mary.' he's signing because it's easier, because mary can tell what he's saying then—not that she's even looking, in hindsight, and he's not sure if leonardo's even watching his hands raised high above his head. 'mary, this is leonardo. be nice.'

"it's nice to meet you, mary," leonardo says, and will hates that he looks at his sister just in time to see her eyes widen—the joy blooms on her face like the flowers had in summer, new and warm and in a dozen colors. he winces when she grabs him, yanking him away, and shakes his hands.

she only lets go to sign, 'i heard him!' and he nods, smiling crookedly.

'i told you i could. he has a nice voice, doesn't he?'

mary nods, looking back at leonardo—who seems honestly confused, forehead pressed against the glass—and leaning against him. she takes his hands carefully, tracing out words he has to focus to put the letters together for.

'sorry i didn't believe you.'

he shakes his head; it'd been pretty unbelievable, in retrospect, and he takes her hands in his. they swing between them and the beats of his heart, and when he hears leonardo call for their attention, will gives him it with a smile.



mary, for reasons she won't disclose, isn't very fond of talking. she loves to hear leonardo's voice, but after formally introducing herself aloud, she rarely speaks again. will doesn't have to watch her signs to understand the conversation most of the time; leonardo's spoken replies generally make it clear enough, and will huffs when he falls back into his gathered fallen leaves.

not even leonardo's spluttering gets him to sit up, though he does peek open an eye when he feels mary's presence beside him (and her foot nudging his side).

'i'm going home,' she signs. he stares for a moment, then nods slowly. mary glances over her shoulder, then grins at him and kneels down. 'leo really likes you, will. it's cute.'

'of course he does. we're friends.'

he gets what she means, though it keeps his gaze pointed away from leonardo long after mary takes her leave and it's just the two of them again.

will knows he should be happy, that it should feel like all those scenes that play out on tv—the colors, the shimmers, the vibrations. his heart, pounding restless in his chest and surely loud enough for anyone on the other side of their glass cage to hear without trying too hard. the thought leaves him feel sick though, his head spinning with doubts and murmurs of it'd be better to not talk about it. it'll pass just like every other crush. it's a phase, will.

it sounds like leonardo.

it reminds him of leonardo's request, to talk to him if there's anything bothering him, and will draws in a breath quietly at the memory; it's as clear as leonardo's gentle chatter, commentary on mary and how weird it'd been to hear someone who wasn't will going in one ear and out the other.

he can do it later. for now, all he can do is focus on the clouds drifting lazily above in the sky.

fourth year.
sheets of copper turn to sheets of snow, and branches weighed by boughs of ice soon become weighed by boughs of budding leaves. will practices confrontations and confessions, tongue-tied when leonardo catches him once. there isn't a single excuse he could have for it, and he knows it, but he still ducks his head and laughs.

"oh, well, you know, just—practicing. for a thing some friends are doing."

"so you're saying it aloud," leonardo replies after a full set of heartbeats; he's not convinced, and there's a weird edge to his tone will can't place.

so he shrugs, not sure how to reply, and switches to signing. 'i got used to talking while i was over here. it's habit.'

leonardo stares at him for a moment, obviously trying to decide if he wants to believe that lie, then shrugs and lays back on the grass. will sighs, jumping when leonardo's hands raise back up: 'you were really loud with that one. hiding something?'

will's quiet long enough for leonardo to sit back up halfway, using his hands for support instead of talk, and when he realizes he's really, really being asked and not just joked with, will swallows hard.

"i think—" he hesitates, watching leonardo's chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm, the sun catching on a silver locket every time it reaches its highest point. he swallows again and nods, aware of his hands signing along with him. "i think i love someone."

'you,' his hands say instead of someone, traitors to common sense; he's so grateful that leonardo insists on watching his face instead of his hands when he talks, despite the habit both of them have to keep for their own lives, because he isn't sure he's ready to tell his best friend he's in love with him. no, he definitely knows he's not ready for that.

leonardo nods after a moment, a little stiffly, and falls back against spring's green grass.



every couple of days, leonardo asks him how things are going with the person he loves. will panics every time, hands shaking when he replies.

'it's good.' 'it's fine.' 'they're great.' 'we get along really well.' 'i haven't confessed yet.'

"you should," leonardo replies when he signs the last one, sky heavy with the threat of rain. will shakes his head, tugging his red poncho's hood over, and shakes his head a second time when leonardo gives him an irritated look. "i'm serious. they sound like they like you back. what's the harm?"

will stares, wringing his hands, and shakes his head one final time.

"i'm not going to tell them," he whispers; he can feel the softness of his voice, knows leonardo's leaning in to hear better. "not yet. i need to figure out how."

leonardo opens his mouth, seems to think better of it, and shakes his head, settling against a tree.

"sure, okay." lightning flashes across him, form colored stained grey by the storm's reflection on the glass. "whatever."



one day near the end of spring, when it's getting a little too hot to wear long-sleeves and there baby birds tumbling outside of their nests, he can't hear leonardo through the glass at all. will stares at his moving mouth, the way his hands move in half-garbled sentences that don't really mean anything—they're just there for expressive purposes—and forces a smile when leonardo looks at him, brow furrowed.

his hearing comes back like the tide; it surges, then fades, then surges again, until at long last he isn't hearing pieces of leonardo's concerned voice but the whole thing. will stares at his already terrified, worried look and wonders if he should say something.

he digs into his bag instead, not trusting his voice or leonardo's ears, and definitely not trusting himself to explain it properly in signs. he writes and rewrites the note, only putting it up against a clear spot wall once he's completely satisfied.

「i couldn't hear you. got scared. it came back.
i don't know why.
i don't want it to happen again.」

leonardo looks from the paper to him, gently scratching a patch of clouded glass wall beside his head, and nods.

"i've had the same thing happen to me a few times," he replies hesitantly, and will throws him a disbelieving look. leonardo grimaces, shaking his head. "i didn't want to worry you or anything, so—"

"you're the one who told me that if anything was bothering me, i should tell you!"

leonardo stares at him; will stares back, his throat tight, and wonders for the briefest second if yelling had made any difference at all. not that it'd matter, apparently; leonardo does just fine at reading lips, and will feels his twitch twice between smiling and scowling before he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

"that goes for you too," he continues, hoping his voice is as loud as it feels, "so tell me next time, okay?"

"sorry," leonardo mutters sincerely after what feels like a very long, very quiet moment, and will lets out the breath he'd been holding.



it isn't like knowing helps. neither of them know why it's happening now, of all times, and they communicate through a broken mix of spoken and signed. it reminds him of their first two years, how then it'd just been habit to work words in the air as they spoke, and will wishes he could hear leonardo's laugh as clearly and unblemished by worry as it'd been back then again. when things gingerly move onto other topics—because as much as the both of them want to figure this out, it's a heavy topic to tackle and it isn't really one they want to spend a lot of time on—it's... fine. it's okay.

sometimes it's about the person he's in love with, and will wonders if he'll be able to say it before their ability to hear each other fades away. some days, he feels like he can—when leonardo's recounting some movie he watched recently, mimicking the actors and sighing over camera shots. other days, it feels so far away, and he watches leonardo instead of joining the conversation, feeling carved out all over again.

"you should tell them before summer ends," leonardo mentions once. will tilts his head—it's a carved day, anxiety rattling in its cage—and leonardo shrugs. "summer's a great season for romance, right? and then you can spend all of fall and winter in coffee shops or cuddled up on the couch or something."

"i couldn't do that them," will replies without thinking. it's leonardo's turn to tilt his head, confusion mixing with something will can't read. he fidgets twice under the steady look and lifts his hands; leonardo scoots back to view him in full, and will swallows hard.

he already slipped up. he might as well own up to it.

'the person i'm in love with isn't here,' he signs carefully, watching leonardo's expression. it shifts into plainer confusion, and will bites back on a nervous laugh. 'i mean, they're here, but not on my side.'

will waits, wondering if that's good enough. leonardo stares, then leans forward and props his chin in his hand. he points at himself and that's when will laughs, nodding. the heat on his skin isn't entirely summer's fault, now.

'i love you,' he dictates carefully to the air, making sure his meaning is clear, 'leonardo. i love you. i have for a while now.'

"oh." leonardo—doesn't sound disappointed, which will's pretty sure is a good thing. he grows redder, fingers pressing harder into his cheek, and... in what is a really worrying turn of events, starts to laugh. will freezes, not really sure what to do aside from blink and turn his hands in the air; leonardo's shaking calms after a couple of minutes, and he wipes tears leftover from his fit from the edges of his eyes.

"me too. i love you too, will."



they can't spend hours in coffee shops together, or cuddle for warmth when the days begin to chill, but they manage. they bring hot drinks and blankets, pretending the glass wall isn't between them. day by day and night by night, it gets harder and harder to hear each other, and with their drinks and heavier clothing come flashlights and facing each other instead of leaning their shoulders against the glass.

the sky is dark and dotted with stars when leonardo suggests they break it. will stares at him through fogged glass, wondering if he's understood the motions right, and when he repeats it leonardo nods.

'maybe it's what's keeping us from hearing each other now,' he replies back. will wonders how true that is, but—it sounds crazy enough to be true, and he grips onto the idea, feeling like a fool. they devise plans beneath cassiopeia's watchful gaze until they're too tired to think, much less move. will closes his eyes, resting against the wall; he's sure leonardo's doing the same, pretending they're sharing one space instead of being split, and dozes off.

mary finds them; she kicks will in the side angrily, hair unbrushed and eyes rimmed red, and bangs on the glass wall until leonardo finally wakes from the vibrations. they both sign apologies before she even begins her tirade, and after a moment her hands drop to her sides and she shakes her head with a visible sigh. will waits until she's turned away to kiss the wall, feeling silly the second he does so, and steps back; leonardo swallows and steps forward, presses a kiss to the same spot on his side, and steps back.

will throws half his blanket over mary's shoulder, catching her hand in his once he's sure it's not going anywhere, and pretends the frosted grass crunching under his shoes is broken glass.



instead of hot chocolate, they bring hammers. instead of blankets, they bring goggles and jackets zipped up as far as they can go.

neither of them want to make the first move, so on the count of three—signed at the same time, hands shaking—they act together.

the frosted glass shatters like it'd been waiting for this moment. will stares at the shards, then drops his hammer to the side when leonardo gingerly knocks out a person-sized hole and steps through. he kneels down, setting his hammer beside will's, and slowly takes his hand in his.

it almost feels like a dream. if it weren't for the growing pressure on his fingers where leonardo's squeezing them, he'd be convinced that it was. will moves forward before he realizes he is, pressing his face into the curve of leonardo's neck, and breathes in. he smells like the cold and like pine trees; there's some clean smell—soap, otherwise unscented—beneath it. leonardo does the same to him, nuzzling wherever he can, his other hand reaching up to cup his cheek, and will draws back just enough to kiss him properly.

not through the glass or on it—to kiss leonardo, warm and just as happy as he is in front of him. leonardo replies in kind, letting go of his hand to wrap his arm around his waist and pull him closer. they walk carefully, trading kisses and air; will feels his back hit a tree after a long while and swallows shallow breaths as he studies leonardo's red cheeks and hooded eyes.

"i've never been happier," will whispers, and finds that statement to be complete and utter bullshit the second leonardo's face falls and his eyes begin to shine with tears.

epilogue.
he misses leonardo's voice.

he's not sure if he'd trade what they have now for the chance to hear it again, and leonardo's lips pressed against the side of his throat doesn't help him find the answer to the question he's held in the back of his mind since that mid-summer night. it's wonderful, being this close, sharing this warmth, intertwining their fingers, feeling leonardo's breath hitch against his skin when will gently tugs his hair with his other hand—

but he's so painfully aware of the sound vibrating out of his lips, of the way he feels leonardo laugh and groan into his shoulder instead of hearing him. he's never heard his name chanted the way leo mouths it onto his skin, staccato shakes making it evident when he lets his hand fall to their necks to feel their soundless voices working the way they should be. he tugs leonardo's hair again, this time a plea to stop, and he presses their foreheads together when he gets his way.

will hates how quiet it is when he can see leonardo's breathing is a little ragged, that his face is flushed red and that he's mouthing words he can't see to decipher the meaning of. he wonders if leonardo misses talking too, misses his voice the way he misses leonardo's, and hates how easy that answer is to find compared to his other questions.

(of course he does. you don't have someone's voice for four years and then not be mad over losing it just because you got something nice in return.)

leonardo traces hearts on his shoulder, nail digging a little harder every time, and will presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth to quiet him.