Simon poured himself a bowl of cereal. It had been a long time since he was in a mute world. Though painfully nostalgic, he wished to go back to the world of sound.

On the table in the living room, his hand traced over the letters of a message left behind by his mother. He wondered if she was still in the house. If not, where had she gone?

He sighed at the letter, not bothering to question it.

If you want another hearing aid earn it yourself. Replacement costs 4300.

Alice

He wasn't surprised she was making him pay for it this time. He'd already gone through so many before this one. Considering that, this felt almost justified.

He cursed Adrian under his breath. Although, he really should have ran when he had an opening. Or at the very least predicted that something like that would happen and saved the hearing aids.

School was hard. Well, it usually was, but being unable to hear made the entire experience worse. He was already three classes in, but had no idea what the teacher was talking about. The voice to text app on his phone hardly worked, writing down random words he was pretty sure we're not part of the original lecture.

He pressed his forehead to the surface of the cafeteria table. If earning four thousand dollars was even feasible, he predicted he wouldn't be able to afford a new one before summer break. He sat up, rubbing his stress-tired eyes.

"Well, you look upset." Nate said, taking a grape from his tray. He kicked over Simon's Navy blue messenger bag under the table, pointing at it so Simon knew it was there. "I got it back for you. And, yes, I checked for the sketchbook."

Simon frowned at him. "What are you doing?"

"Huh?" Nate took another grape. "Adrian and Kelly don't have this lunch period. Normally I hang with those guys," Nate paused to turn to his old group, a gang of upperclassmen. "You look sick. Did you get a cold? I told you to take your clothes off and let them dry."

Simon stared blankly into his eyes, not at all amused by his joke. "You don't have to pretend to care."

"What?" Nate leaned forward. "Hey," he held his finger up and pulled out his laptop.

He slid it over to Simon. "It's too loud and your talking very softly." It read.

Simon typed furiously beneath it. "Well I'm sorry! I can't hear anything."

He watched as Nate frowned at it, replying. "It's not your fault, I'm just saying I can't hear you talking."

What was it about them that attracted the other, Simon wondered. The reason he couldn't seem to let Nate go was because he was the only one willing to talk to him. It was usually to bitch about his problems, but they were issues he could at least relate to. And, in a way, he understood Nate's behavior. Even if Nate didn't pick up on it, Simon was probably the only person on the entire school who knew exactly the kind of pain he was in.

There was still something that bothered him, though. They understood each other, but Nate's situation seemed to be progressing while Simon's remained stagnant. So what was it? Jealousy?

Simon sighed. "If you have other people to eat with, why are you with me?"

"Because you look sad."

"Don't you hate me?"

"Don't we hate each other?"

He laughed a little. Maybe Nate wasn't as stupid as he thought. Even he could see they needed each other.

"Are you going to the meeting tonight?"

"Like I have a choice."

Simon's fingers hovered over the keys in thought. "Do you hate it?"

"Yeah. Forgiving her for everything she's done seems like a cop-out."

"It's not really for her. It's for you."

Nate looked at him over the top of the laptop. Forgiveness was a hard thing, especially if that person betrays you on the regular.

Imagine in a situation where someone stole something from a store. They innocently said "I won't do it again. I'm sorry!" And were let off. They repeat their action, stealing from the store with the same "I won't do it again!" Until your store is bare. At some point, would you just stop trusting them?

In Simon's case, he had to put aside his own self blame of his mother's addiction. He knew precisely why she drank. If she wasn't looking out that window her attention was usually set on a large bottle of something with enough alcohol to drown her sorrows. Anything to avoid reality. Her sentence of eighteen years.

"People don't get it," Nate wrote. "All I want is to go back to the way things were. She promised me over and over again that we would. But she kept drinking. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of having to watch over us. I'm sick of her acting like nothing has happened. I'm sick of pretending to be some good kid for her sake. I don't want pity. I want empathy."

Simon leaned forward, scratching his lower shoulder. He knew this all too well. The closer you are to someone, the more you care, and the more you want to see the best in them. He could tell that Nate must love his mother. He could tell how alone in the war Nate felt. And every outsider could only offer pity because they didn't understand. That was the simple truth.

You could look at the child of an alcoholic and see the surface. You would see that a parent wasn't doing their job. That was to say, being there for their child. And quite often, that outsider would either condemn the actions of the parent, or misunderstand the cries for help from the child.

There was only pity. The constant, never ending 'I'm so sorry you had to go through that' from not just an outsider, but sometimes from the parent themselves. Simon hadn't seen the pity from an alcoholic parent, but he'd listened to enough stories in those meetings to gather on them.

"I know Carter doesn't understand it like that, but remember that's his sister. I'm sure he's just as stressed out as you."

Nate huffed. "He never came to see us after my dad died. He never called her to ask if she was okay. I sat there in the house watching her cry, drink, and stress out over simple things like how she was going to put food on the table."

He was sure Carter might not know the full story, but that was partly Nate's fault. "Carter talks about Olivia all the time."

"Yeah. I'm sure he does." Nate pushed the laptop towards Simon, glaring at the table.

"If you want someone to understand, I do. It's stressful living with a drunk. It's like you feel their negativity. Then they can get violent, and that can be scary. Like, what if they hurt you or themselves. There's this sense of a forced responsibility."

Nate's glare slowly faded as he read Simon's paragraph. He let out a calming breath. "I hated coming home to her half naked, or passed out in the bath. I couldn't just leave her, you know, but I didn't want to have to deal with it."

"It's like it consumed your day, right? And it sucks too because she isn't even nice to you when she's drunk."

"Tell me about it. She would throw things and then demand I clean it up."

"She brings you down with her and it's just depressing as hell."

"I want to help, but she won't listen to me. And every promise she makes, she breaks."

"It's just so stressful. All the lies and betrayed trust..."

Nate smiled, then dropped it. He glanced up at Simon. This was the first time he'd ever really talked about his mother. And to this level of understanding. Most of the time, with the people who knew, they would always just ask 'why do you put up with it then?' As if he could leave so easily.

Nate closed the laptop. There was something stirring up inside him now. Talking to him felt like a real vent. Like he didn't have to worry about someone showering him with pity, or asking why he even cared. Simon understood all of this already.

"I think you and I could actually be friends." He said, puzzled by the feeling in his chest. "I'll go to the meeting."

"Okay." Simon's voice was still so soft compared to the noises filling the room.

Suddenly people started to move. Yet Nate stayed where he was.

Simon looked around. "Did the bell ring?"

Nate stared into his eyes for a long time. It was a captivating stare that stole his attention. He hesitated. "N-Nate?"

Nate flinched, placing his hands on either side of the red tray and turned away from Simon. He stayed there for a moment, seemingly thinking, then he got up.

He stopped. Turned around. "Oh, uh, the bell rang." He opened his mouth to add something else but shook his head. “Bye.”