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On closer inspection, Declan had the same bone structure as Ducky. High cheekbones, chiseled jawline, tapered waist. While Ducky was lithe, Declan was muscled. While Ducky had long hair, Declan had short, at least on the sides. While Ducky was pale, Declan was tanned by consistent sunlight exposure.

While Ducky could hear, Declan was deaf.

But...

But the birthmark. The crescent shaped brown patch marring his skin. Ducky, too, had that on his neck, almost caressing his collarbone.

Something made me lean forward to brush my fingers against Declan’s skin. I didn’t know what I was hoping for. For it to be makeup? For it not to be?

The birthmark was real, and the fact sent an undefinable tingle through my body.

Voice quiet, as if I was afraid anything louder would force him to laugh in my face, I murmured, “Ducky?”

“Addie.”

And then he wrapped his arms around me, extra mindful of my injuries. I pressed my face into his neck, crying, relishing in the comfort and heat he emitted.

This was Ducky. My Ducky. My best friend, and the only person I had ever truly loved.

I pulled away from him, eyes bloodshot, to see he wasn’t faring much better. His own eyes were glassy with unshed tears. With a trembling hand, he pushed a strand of knotted hair behind my ear.

I didn’t care that I was in pain. I didn’t care that I had a broken leg, a scarred back, or an arm that was losing feeling by the second.

All I cared about was the handsome boy in front of me.

“You’re alive,” I whispered, pulling back to face him. His eyes remained focused intently on my lips as he read my words.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you...why didn’t you tell me?” I sobbed, my relief transforming into anger. I had spent years - years! - believing I had killed my best friend. I knew he had been pissed at me, I wouldn’t have blamed him, but this? Ignoring me after I witnessed him get hit by a truck? Making me believe him dead? That was borderline torture.

“I tried!” Declan - Ducky - insisted. His eyes grew wide. “Your parents said you didn’t want to talk to me. They said you...” His hands faltered as if he was unsure what else he wanted to say.

“They said what?” I asked calmly. Too calmly.

“They said you never once asked about me. They said you laughed when the truck came.”

I exploded. “And you believed them? After everything we’d been through?”

I knew I was yelling, and I knew the effort was futile, but I couldn’t help it (and yes, I understood the irony of yelling at a deaf guy). Ducky and I had spent years together. He was my best friend and I, his. How could he just believe I would throw that away? That I faked it for all those years?

“What was I supposed to think? After what you said to me?”

“I did that to protect you!” I screeched. Calax, on the opposite side of the room, looked as if he wanted to run towards me, but Asher held him back.

“I didn’t know that.” Declan’s movements turned jerky, his agitation reflected in his sign language.

I didn’t know what to do. One part of me wanted to burrow myself inside of Declan, to relish in the familiarity of my best friend, while another part of me wanted to run in the opposite direction.

Despite my outburst, I knew my anger wasn’t directed at him but at myself.

It occurred to me suddenly that Declan hadn’t escaped the accident unscathed. He lost something when the truck came barreling toward him, more than just a pathetic friend. He lost his hearing.

It was all my fault.

I had felt guilty before, every day since Ducky’s accident, but this was a different type. This was something physical, something I could reach out and touch. Seeing Declan now, his attention riveted on my lips as he read my words, I wanted to cry.

Scream.