After a fatal phone call from his doctor, Skylar has to make the right decision. But what is the right way to choose when everyone tells you something else? And during this time, he finds himself even more attached to Nathan than ever before but with that comes the same old doubts from the very beginning. "What if he'll get tired of me?" ~~~~~~~~~~~ This is the sequel to my other book 'Deaf Wish', if you haven't read it please do so before you start with this one, thank you so much!

"I don't care how many times I have to tell you that you are more than enough, that you deserve someone to make you happy and to love you and that I'm so grateful that I'm the one. Or at least I hope I am. But you need to stop thinking the way you do. Just stop it. Drop it. End it. Delete it. Never say it. Never think it. It will only hurt you in the end." he removes his hand from my mouth, his facial expression smoothing after he got things off his chest Skylar thinks of himself as worthless, useless and not likeable and being deaf didn't exactly help with his judgment. But will he change his mind about himself when he meets Nathan? Warning: This story contains BoyxBoy Action and triggering (self-harming) parts. Don't like don't read. You have been'/ will be warned. Love you<3

Needing a favour and an easy way to pass his Physics class, closeted gay Zach Hamilton seeks Jace, the smart ass band geek who has snarky comebacks to everything. Becoming smitten with the tall, skinny, cheeky nerd was pretty easy, but difficulties arise when his clique and his brother toughen down on him, and his best friend, Flynn, holds a secret that can't be forgotten easily. -- -- -- Disclaimer: boy x boy, quite a lot of swearing and... This is a PG-13 book, so you know the rules.

Love is patient, love is kind but above all, love is hard. "I am here to see the Archangel." "Aren't we all?" Replied the guard after chuckling at the blatant naivety of the frail woman. "Name?" "I'm here to see the Archangel." She replied stubbornly still not looking up from her shoes that peeked out from the bottom of her cloak, revealing more of her toes through their large holes than the muddy, worn leather that formed the patchwork shoe itself. They were her last pair. Not that she had taken many substitutes with her when she had left. A hasty departure was never well planned.