Chapter Text
“And, see, you have to make the ‘wh’ face for this sign-yeah! Like that!” Bitty smiled proudly at Holster and Ransom as asked each other if they played hockey in ASL.
“Dude, Bitty, that’s ‘swawesome! Can you show me how to flirt?” Holster laughed. Bitty rolled his eyes and puckered his lips to show the signs for “kiss me”. Ransom high fived Hoslter once they felt they could go and get all the Deaf babes.
Bitty’s heart swelled up with joy, there was just something so nice about teaching signs to his friends that he could not understand. Maybe it was the satisfaction of people being excited about something he was passionate about, and maybe because it gave an excuse cracks jokes and hang out. Either way, he loved it.
He especially loved it when Jack said, from the nasty green couch, “Hey, we could use some shorthand on the ice, or something.”
“That would be sweet.” Ransom said, “Also, Jack, I think your face is beautiful.” Holster laughed along with his friend.
“I don’t really know much hockey terms, though, I could ask about that. We’d have to get the whole entire team on it-and I don’t want to ruin our plays, or anything…” Bitty fumbled with his hands as he spoke from a blue lawn chair.
“It was just an idea, don’t worry about it.” Jack said, brushing it off.
“I still want to learn more signs for hockey stuff, though. I’ll keep you posted.” Bitty smiled at his friends. “Yeah, that’ll be fun!”
He was so excited, more than he could ever remember being before.
…
Bitty was so tired, more than he could ever remember being before.
It had been pleasant and rainy day, Bittle had been reading comics set in the waiting room for the younger patients. The small office, a specialized off campus medical facility for the nearby hospital, was empty except for Eric and the secretary, who was clicking away at her keyboard. Behind him, a small window showed the pouring rain outside, just beginning to start a big storm.
Shitty had dropped him off, as Bittle did not have a car of his own, and he hoped the storm wouldn’t get to bad, or else he would have to wait in the audiologist’s until commuter traffic and water mostly let up.
After an incredibly boring hearing test, the kind that takes years to complete, Bitty was called into his doctor’s office to review the results. He plugged back in his mint green and sticker-encased hearing aids, with the cute red and white moulds, and entered the confining, windowless, room. This was his first time at an audiologist in his new home, although he had been living there for almost two years. And nothing the woman said made him want to come back.
“You doing alright, Bits?” Shitty asked as Eric threw himself into the passenger’s seat of the old station wagon.
“Yeah.” He sighed, “There’s nothing I can do. Can we go home now?” His blonde eyebrows furrowed as he looked into the onslaught of the ever brewing storm.
“That bad, huh?” Shitty said, the car rumbling off onto the freeway.
Bitty shrugged, “I guess, 10 whole decibels is a lot. 10. Whole. Decibels. If you lost 10 decibels you’d be down, Shitty.”
“Suppose so,” He whistled as a big red truck cut them off, “What does that mean for you, though?”
Bitty looked at Shitty. He was inexplicably nice for such a… trucker looking guy. “Well, I’ve noticed that it’s been especially hard to talk on the phone-I really can’t call my mom anymore. This paper just proves it.” He shook the slip out so he could look at the two black lines on the decibel chart. “Shitty, can I ask you something?”
“Shoot,”
“Am I loud? I feel like I’m talking normal, but, it’s hard to tell.” He said, as they pulled off of the big road.
“Yeah, you’re pretty loud. It’s not a problem though-there are some fucking screamers all over campus.” He shrugged, “Hey, rather know what shit you’re talking about than mumbling all the time.”
Bitty shook his head and smiled, “Thanks, I needed that.”
“Sure, you lil’ fucker,” Shitty laughed. Samwell was in sight.
Bittle said goodbye and hopped out of the car, running fast into the house. Shitty had a dinner date with Lardo to get to, and although happy to help with his favorite gay baby, was eager to speed down the road to the nearby diner. He waved to Ransom and Holster, who were on the couch in the front room, writing essays in furious pursuit. He tucked his hearing chart in a drawer on his desk and stowed away in the kitchen to make a nice, relaxing, stress pie.
The apples were not as fresh and local as he had wanted, but Bittle knew that was his fault for wanting a good old fashioned apple pie in May. But he wanted one, bad, he had read the recipe so many times it was engrained in his head. As he tossed cinnamon and nutmeg in a small bowl, adding the sugar, and sprinkling salt in, he hummed softly. Of course he had left his blue tooth necklace back in Georgia over winter break, and was unable to listen to music straight through his hearing aids. He combined the dry mixture with the apples and lemon juice and mixed with a wide wooden spoon.
Out of nowhere, a cold hand tapped Eric on the shoulder. He yelped, the spoon flying across the room, “Shit-Jack! Say something when you enter!”
“Sorry, I said hi.” Jack apologized, backing away.
“Yeah. Yeah, my fault.” Bitty swiped the spoon off of the floor and went to wash it off, “Anyways, what can I do for ya? Pie is going to remain inedible for another forty-five minutes, I’m afraid.”
“It’s fine, I’m not hungry. But is this yours?” Jack held out the small silver tube on the black necklace. Bitty’s Bluetooth necklace.
“How did you-how did you find this? I thought I left it over break.” He dried off the spoon with a rag by the sink.
“It was under the washing machine. We got a new one today.” Jack placed the silver rod in Bitty’s dried hands, dangling it by the string. The look of joy on his face broke the frustrated feeling in his chest.
“Thank you, oh my Lord, thank you!” He clutched it, then slid it in his pocket, “I was in such a fussy mood earlier, music just makes anything better, right?”
“That plays music?” Jack asked, leaning against the wall.
“Yeah, it’s a Bluetooth. I actually just got it for Christmas. I don’t know what I would have told Mama if I had already misplaced it. I’m sure it’s worth both of my legs and an arm.” Eric frowned momentarily, before dusting his hands and the counter with flour.
“For your hearing aids?” he said.
“Yep, for my hearing aids.” He began the lattice top for the apple pie, weaving over and under. It was therapeutic to say the least.
“What’s it like? To be deaf?” Jack walked over to where Bitty was folding dough so he’d be more in line with his ears.
“What’s it like to hear?” Bitty shrugged, “I dunno, for me, I guess it’s a bit like standing outside a really wild concert? Where you can feel what’s happening and you know everyone’s screaming their heads off, but you can’t make out words or melodies. It’s not a bad thing, don’t get me wrong, but it’s different, I suppose.” He gave a short laugh, “Also, if someone’s making a stupid joke, like ‘what are you, deaf?’” He mocked, “I’ll just stare them square in the eyes, pull out my hearing aids, and say, ‘why yes, I am’. Now, I’m not one to laugh at distress, but the look of horror gets me every time.”
Jack opened the oven for him as Bitty popped in the gorgeous pie. He clapped his hands to rid himself of flour and began to file away the ingredients. “But in all honesty, it’s confusing as hell. On one hand, you’ve been raising talking your whole life. Especially since I haven’t always been this deaf. But on the other hand,” He turned around, “I’ve got to decide how to get jobs that don’t require a phone, are mostly about visuals, and making sure I get front row seats in all my classes.”
“What about that baking class we’re taking?” Jack asked.
“I have you,” Eric set a glass bowl into the sink and tapped the faucet on. “Plus, it’s baking.”
“Hey, Bittle.” Jack began, thrusting his hands into the pockets on his sweatshirt, “I want to learn sign language. So we can… I guess talk better.”
Bitty turned around and smiled, one hand on his hip and the other on the counter. The storm outside had started to break, and shafts of light, pure and bright, hit the land with sun. A particularly large part in the clouds dawned over their street, and lit up the Haus. Bittle was standing before the window, his silhouette framed by holy golden light. “Jack! I am surprised! I mean, other’s had asked just this and that of me, but, to actually learn ASL is different.”
Jack gave a small smile as Bittle began talking about how he’d need an actual tutor to help him, not just a student, and what books he’d want, along with movies they could watch, even a play! It was amazing how excited the topic got him, amazing how happy and beautiful he looked in the afternoon light.
Eric was feeling much better.