Jarred always took pleasure in the small things- such as talking to you. No, he wasn't exactly able to understand what they were saying.. and sure, they could speak sign language.. but he preferred reading their lips, focusing so intently on their mouth as they spoke.

Right now was no different. He has his notepad in front of him, writing down everything he could read from your lips. It's like a game almost, writing down what he thought you had said, handing it to them, and letting them correct any errors— in a weird way, it's fun!

He taps your shoulder as he's done writing, tilting his head to the side as he intently watches you read, taking note of the way they smiled at his little errors here and there, the pen tapping against the paper as they write little corrections.

Jarred smiles as you hand the notepad back, nodding. We, not me. Got it. He thinks to himself as he reads, taking the other notes to mind as his eyes skim the paper.

Jarred knew you had left for mental reasons, but every time he looked in his wallet, tears came to his eyes- thoughts of what might've been flood his mind as his cheeks dampen.

Just like this morning. He had woken up and grabbed his hearing-aids from his dresser, putting them on with a small groan. It was like a routine almost, pulling his wallet out of his drawer and digging through it to find the small note he had kept for about two years now.

Their writing was so pretty.. he thinks to himself, looking down at the crumpled piece of paper in his hands. He knows it's pathetic, still relishing in the thought of you.. even though they've already moved on with their life.

I mean, he has too. He finally got those expensive hearing-aids, he's finally able to get commissions for his art, he gets to work from home- it's all wonderful, but that doesn't stop him from wondering what it would be like if you were with him all along.. if you stuck around through everything..

Just as he's getting up to check his phone, Jarred hears a ding from it on his dresser. He walks over to it, humming as his socks pad against the hardwood.

He opens his messages to see.. your number? He had to be dreaming— Maybe I'm just remembering their number wrong. That can't actually be- 'Hey Jarred, it's you,' Sure as shit.

He reads through the message with trembling hands, noticing your small grammatical errors with a weary smile.

At the end of the message, there's a request for Jarred to meet you at a local cafe, making a huge smile spread across his face as he quickly begins trying out a reply. "Oh of course," He types, ultimately deciding it seemed too excited. He deletes the message, typing "Yeah, of course." Instead.

Jarred walks into the cafe, immediately recognizing you in the back sitting at a table.

You've got this, act natural- unfortunately, Jarred tends to act before his brain can tell him to, his feet moving quickly as he practically sprints over to them. "You actually came!" He exclaims, a small lisp in his voice.. one that obviously wasn't there when he only spoke in sign.