My name is Lee Injun, but you can call me Pooh Bear as Husky does. Or no, he's the only one who's to call me that, which is funny since I've never actually heard him say it. What I would give to hear his voice calling out to me with love. I was born in a silent world, my ears not having developed properly, and have never heard one sound in my life. Although that may be cause for pity, I've never felt I needed any, for it was through my "disability" that Husky and I met. There was a cab honking furiously at me, which sounds dirty now that I think about it, but I didn't hear it. Husky came over to me and informed me of the angry driver, after which spiraled an unconventional love story. I would not trade one minute of functional ears for my Husky. Never.

At work, though, I can appear almost completely normal as long as no one calls out to me from across halls or rooms. There are probably a few coworkers who don't even guess that I'm deaf. I work at a desk, mostly with paperwork, in a newspaper firm, which earns well enough for Husky and me. It's been years since I started here, and Husky even comes along for company events, though he's mostly known as "Injun's friend." The boss comes off as homophobic, and I sometimes wonder if he can feel my gay aura, if there is such a thing. I'm being ridiculous again, aren't I?

Going home from work is always nice, especially with the thought that I'm going home to Husky. I'd honestly take a cab if there weren't creepy talkative drivers, so I take the bus. There's more than enough people to guarantee privacy, ironically, and it's more comfortable for me. I wonder if Husky's cooking anything. This morning, he was getting ready to go shopping, which he usually does when he wants to surprise me with dinner. The thought of his smile, his love, makes me smile myself on the bus. People ask me all the time why I smile brightly, but all I do is smile even bigger.

Once I get home, I can smell Husky's dinner: spaghetti. Wow, it smells really good. There's something about a husband's cooking that a wife (equivalent) just really likes, even if the chances of it having turned out right may be bleak. Still, I can feel the love of the gesture itself reaching into the depths of me, which Husky will probably feel. That man can seriously see me like no one else does, or even can. I love him deeply.

"You look so able when you're cooking," I say to Husky from behind.

He seems to tense a little, as if he's seriously thinking about doing it here in the kitchen. But he doesn't act on it, instead biting his lip and try to finish assembling the dinner. I go to wash my hands and change into more comfortable clothing before coming back down to eat. Most dinners are silent, no pun intended, but very enjoyable. Husky doesn't know how handsome he looks with a napkin over his chest and a healthy appetite. When I stare at him and silently chuckle, he usually blushes, thinking he did something wrong or embarrassing. I don't let him know it's because I am too much in love with him to keep my eyes off of him.

"Thank you for dinner," I lay my head on Husky's chest when we're in bed. "You did well."

"I'm only glad it turned out good enough," he chuckles.

I sigh, thinking about the meeting I had during the day with my boss. He was giving me exceptionally dirty looks, almost as if he wanted to fire me on grounds of my homouality. Then again, it could have been my imagination.

"Pooh Bear," Husky heaves one of his own sighs. "You're tense tonight, and not the tired kind."

"How can you even tell?" I poke his abdomen. "There's no possible way you could."

"Because I can see you better than anybody."

"Still, I'm not acting any differently, am I?"

"You're a bad actor," Husky shakes his head. "Your grip is tight, your breathing is a little fast, your arms are tense, your--"

"Okay, I get it," I give up. "You know me too well, love."

"I just see you as you are, Pooh Bear."

"It's my boss."

"The one who doesn't treat you well?" he visibly gets angry. "I swear, one day I'll--"

"We just had a short meeting," I cut him short. "He just intimidates me, as if he--"

"He doesn't matter in this relationship, Pooh Bear. We do."

A smile creeps across my lips, and I come up to place a kiss on him, which he responds to enthusiastically. He runs a hand down my back, and I'm not surprised. Husky Woo is so manly, I can practically taste the desire on his lips. But he knows I won't refuse, because he also knows how much I love giving myself to him.

"I can feel your tension going away," Husky places a kiss on my cheek. "You're welcome."

One more time, I smile, but bring my hand to his own restricted area to make him squirm. Husky knows when I'm not feeling right, and he knows exactly how to make me feel better. No one can see me like he does, and I won't allow anyone else to. I love him, and I make sure to remind him all the time.

The only man who sees me for who I am is blind.