Chapter Text
Bill realized Cricket had been talking funny ever since they started the chores. His voice sounded shaky and unsure. He looked shaken up. He realized Cricket wasn't listening, too. He just assumed it was Cricket being Cricket.
Cricket had just fallen into the chimney after recklessly dancing on top of it.
"I'm sorry Dad, I wouldn't be in this mess if I had listened to you." Cricket didn't know if his dad even heard him. The fact he couldn’t hear himself was freaking him out. Was he messing up his words? Did his dad notice?
"Use the claw of the hammer to pull yourself up!" Bill shouted down the chimney, throwing his tool belt down to Cricket.
He squinted his eyes, attempting to read his dad's lips.
"...hammer...pull..." was what he could make out. Cricket wasn't used to using his brain this much, but it was a do-or-die situation. He put two and two together, grabbing the end of the hammer to claw his way up the chimney.
Cricket climbed out as Bill grabbed him before yelling at his carelessness.
Cricket had little hope in his hearing coming back. He knew he had to fess up, otherwise his dad would figure it out himself.
"Dad, I- I..." he stanmered, trailing off as his eyes started to water. "I can't... the poppers from the toy. I can't hear nothin'!" His words slurred through choked sobs, not like he could hear himself anyway. At this point, Cricket was bawling, his hands shaking. He felt so helpless.
Bill crouched down wrapping his arms around his son, his careless son. If only he listened once in a while.
He frowned, picking cricket up. "Oh, Cricket. What am I gonna do with you..." He muttered, carrying his son off of the roof. The sound of his boy crying on his shoulder broke his heart.
Cricket just couldn't stop crying. His hands gripped tighter as he squeezed his eyes shut. He knew he messed up this time. Sure, he's done tons of crazy things over the years, but none of them have had long-term consequences. Maybe his dad can fix it. He always comes in to pick up his mess.
Bill had been tearing up, but he tried his best to keep himself together for Cricket's sake. He carried Cricket to his room and set him in his hammock. Bill knew his son was too drained to even care he was still in his overalls.
It all felt surreal. Cricket couldn't believe this was happening. Maybe it'll fix itself overnight. It always does. His heart was racing and his hands were shaking.
"Will, um..." Cricket sighed, "Will my hearin' fix itself? Is it all gonna be alright?" He looked up at his dad, who looked at Cricket with pity.
"I..." Bill started, trailing off realizing Cricket couldn't hear him anyway. He looked around for a second until he noticed a marker on the dresser. Grabbing the marker, he wrote in a nearby notebook.
"I'm sorry, Cricket. I wish I could say I knew."