Chapter Text
“My name is Ha Yi Chan. I’m 18 years old. I will be able to hear.”
Yi Chan repeated these words over and over as he sat up in his hospital bed for the 67th day (yes, he’d been counting) and looked out of the window solemnly. He could see the beautiful skyline of Seoul, taste the delicious tteokbokki his halmeoni made him, smell the fresh spring breeze and feel the soft material of his hospital gown. He could do everything, but he still couldn’t hear. And he’d never be able to again. And this was something Yi Chan found difficult, almost impossible, to accept.
“My name is Ha Yi Chan. I’m 18 years old. I will be able to hear,” he said again, not being able to hear the sound of his own voice.
He was determined. He couldn’t live the rest of his life like this; without hearing the voice of his halmeoni, his friends and most of all, the serenity of music. He couldn’t handle it at all.
He closed his eyes in frustration and leaned back, placing a hand on his forehead and creasing his eyebrows. Utter silence. It was deafening.
Seconds later he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was halmeoni. She visited every day, of course, sometimes staying the night, sleeping in the chair next to the window. A few days ago she’d sobbed until her eyes were red with heartbreak for her grandson, saying she’d give him her own ears if she could. It had cracked Yi Chan’s soul in two.
Yi Chan smiled at her and then faintly made out what she was saying by reading her lips. ‘There’s someone here to visit you’, she said. Yi Chan’s eyes widened. Since Eun Gyeol had left a few days earlier and all of his friends were at school, he wondered who it could be.
Halmeoni stepped out of the way. And Yoon Chung Ah entered Yi Chan’s vision. Suddenly he was immensely thankful for his ability to see. She was exceedingly beautiful to Yi Chan; her bangs didn’t cover her bright, wide eyes and her charming smile spread to every corner of every room. Now, though, she wasn’t smiling and her eyes seemed to droop. And her face was wet with tears.
She approached him slowly, and Yi Chan looked down to see her hands shaking despite her wearing an oversized blue jumper in the spring heat. She was shaking from anxiety; and fear; and heartbreak. As soon as she was in front of Yi Chan, he sat upright to face her.
Looking at halmeoni, he saw her mouth, ‘I told her everything on the board’. Ah, the board that Yi Chan had made so Chung Ah and halmeoni could communicate, just a few days before the accident. A few days before he’d lost his ability to hear their laughter forever.
Chung Ah took a deep breath to sign with shaking hands; ‘I’m sorry’. And her tears began to flow even more than before, causing tears to form in Yi Chan’s eyes as well. She was the only one who might have understood how he felt, feeling so isolated from everything around him. ‘I wish I could help you’ she signed. ‘I wish you could hear the sound of music again’.
Yi Chan began to fully sob now, unable to move, feeling paralysed, like his heart had been ripped out of him. Chung Ah had given him a sign name at the song camp: ‘A shining voice’. Because that’s who Yi Chan was. The loud, energetic, optimistic, frontman of his band. ‘I can’t hear you sing. But I can see it. I can feel it,’ she had signed. There would be no seeing Yi Chan sing anymore, no feeling of his voice lighting up a room. He was now empty, inside and out.
In any other situation, Yi Chan would sign back: ‘It’s okay’. Something positive like ‘We can’t do anything about it’ or ‘Let’s just move on’. But he couldn’t see himself moving on from this. from losing such a big part of himself.
So he simply stood, to match Chung Ah’s level, and wrapped his arms around her. She felt so delicate in his hands, and continued to shiver from her painful tears. He wanted to say something, anything, but no words would come out. It was frustrating and angering and so, so, difficult. But as he hugged her, all his negative emotions seemed to dissipate, for a moment.
Her hands were tight around his waist, as if she were hanging on for dear life. It was scary and comforting, this feeling. Just him, and her, and the silence.
_
“Where’s Eun Gyeol?” Chung Ah singed as they sat on a wooden bench in the outdoor garden area of the hospital. Trees and flowers surrounded them; it was a picturesque scene that would have been perfect if not for the extenuating circumstances.
“He left a few days ago, back to his hometown. His father must have been calling him home,” he signed back, ignoring how much saying this tugged heartstrings.
Chung Ah scowled, her face now free from tears. “That brat. How can he leave at a time like this?”
Yi Chan smiled. “It’s okay. My son felt too guilty to stay. Though it wasn’t his fault.”
“Your son?” Chung Ah singed with a tilt of her head in confusion.
“It’s just a nickname,” Yi Chan replied, speaking as he signed, but conflicted with his own words. He’d almost been swayed by Eun Gyeol’s time travel story, but now that he was gone, it didn’t really matter anymore. Despite this, he hoped to see him again, one day.
They stayed in silence admiring the scenery before Chung Ah tapped him on the shoulder. “My father…” she almost winced. “He wants me to go to a college for the deaf in the US.”
Yi Chan’s heart stopped. Immediate fear filled his mind and clouded his thoughts. No, she couldn’t leave. Eun Gyeol already did. Not her, too.
“I told him I don’t want to go,” she signed, and Yi Chan breathed a sigh of relief.
Chung Ah had been confronted with her father’s proposition, or demand, the day before. He hadn’t even asked her, and told her he’d booked plane tickets for the day after exams finished and enrolled her in a prestigious American university. He’d also said he would be paying for all of Yi Chan’s college expenses. She was furious that he felt after ignoring her for 18 years, he could pick her up and take her to the US without a care; she'd stormed out of the room. Her anger had been exaggerated into heartache when she heard of Yi Chan’s accident. She especially couldn’t leave him now.
“What did he say?” Yi Chan asked in reply.
“I haven’t spoken to him since.”
Yi Chan nodded, and a wave of sadness and apprehension flooded him. Maybe Chung Ah would be happier in the US. No, she definitely would be. Her only friend Se Gyeong had left the country, and she didn’t know anyone else apart from Yi Chan and his band mates. She wouldn’t miss anyone, except maybe him, and going to a college where it would be easier to communicate would only benefit her. He mentally slapped himself for being so selfish.
Turning to face her, he said, “You should go, Chung Ah-yah.” Her eyes widened in surprise. “It will be good for you. Don’t let me stop you.” It was hard for him to say, but he knew it was the right thing. “Omo, your father will be paying for my college fees? Halmeoni will be relieved!” He tried to look upbeat and optimistic.
She smiled, but it was sad and forced, and she didn’t speak further on the issue. Yi Chan took this as an “I’ll think about it,” and continued to enjoy his time with Chung Ah. Before the news came that titled his world on its axis.