Chapter Text
A high pitched ringing blared through his ears uncontrollably, prolonged and sharp as if a needle were prickling through his skin at an unbearably and torturous slow pace; like a searing, jagged thrust, as if a shard of ice carved its way through his skull. It was then that a burning sensation shot through his ears, and everything around him started to disappear, or more accurately, everything he heard started to feel like static.
Suddenly, he was plunged into a sea of white noise, a symphony where every musician played different notes simultaneously all at once. This white noise, while at first a pure layer of snow, began to mix and blend with the blurry backdrop of flashing red and blue lights. Crowds loomed over at the edges of his vision, their movements frantic while shadowy figures hovered closer. But what he does see clearly, and what stood out most to him, was the gory red trickling across his face — the same shade splattered across the ground and dripping relentlessly over his head.
Then, a sharp pain pierced through his brain, thin and precise, like the slice of an incredibly sharp knife. His eyes, which seemed to have been supposedly rolling backwards, had finally settled into stark whites and his jaw looked to have unhinged itself because he could hear something along the lines of screams, screams that were broken apart like that of a malfunctioning record player or radio, each end breaking off as if a pianist had been playing the wrong notes.
He could hear the ringing again, much louder this time, and his ears throbbed harder than ever before. There was screaming, he thinks. Because all he could hear was screams. And dogs barking and a lot of people just, in general, yelling at him.
What had happened? Did he do something wrong? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that suddenly, the screams closest to him stopped, cutting through the cacophony. A moment later, he heard it — his name.
“Yeosang!”
And then, everything went black.
★ When Yeosang woke up in the hospital days later, the world was unnervingly silent. It was as though the chaos he had experienced — the screams, the barking, and the static — had vanished, leaving a hollow, soundless void in its place.
But Yeosang was an optimist. He always saw the good in people and he always saw the good in life. Even in the worst of situations, he would somehow be able to turn the sourest of lemons into lemonade. That was just how optimistic he was. So when he had gathered up his things and was discharged from the hospital, his friends were mostly surprised. He hadn’t cried once since he was told that he had lost his hearing and he seemed quite positive about the situation as well.
That was a lie.
He cried once. Only someone knew about it. But he doesn’t like to tell anyone that.
After he had left the hospital, he had decided to pick up sign language, and while Yunho had suggested the idea of raising money for a hearing aid, Yeosang had taken the liberty to adamantly reject his offer.
If I may ask, why not? Yunho had signed toward him as they walked down the streets to help their friends pick up what would be the day’s dinner.
Yeosang pressed his lips together and refused any form of eye contact with the other. He signed swiftly back, There isn’t a need to. I’ve already picked up sign language, I’ll be fine.
His friend had then nodded to himself at the words and never really pressed the matter forward afterwards.
It wasn’t to say that his loss of hearing ruined his life — it felt as though it had dismantled it entirely instead. The nights spent perfecting routines at the studio, the shared moments of karaoke with his friends, all of it had been swept away by a swirling whirlpool of loss that reduced the efforts he’s spent across the years building up this life into nothing.
But hey, it’ll be fine, right? After all, there’s always plenty of other things he could do. It's a message he’s heard from his teachers and close friends many times now, and he could only face them with gritted teeth and a wide grin, his fist clenching slightly before they release to sign.
Yeah, you’re right. He would tell them, flashing them the brightest smile that they could ever see of him.
So, he had ventured into new territory.
An art major, specifically for graphic design, and he’s managed to secure an internship at that. Very successful indeed. He was certainly not the very last student in his class to secure an internship and definitely didn’t obtain that internship through a recommendation by his friend. Needless to say, the senior graphic designer he was working with was surprisingly sweet and seemed supportive of his endeavours.
Yet, in spite of all the support he has been receiving from others, Yeosang has always harboured a feeling of loneliness, a feeling of disconnect from the world around him. Because as much as he was grateful for his friends’ love and care over the past few months, not everyone was willing to provide that same support for him and not everyone was willing to learn sign language for his sake as well.
But it wasn’t just about them either, because, frankly, he had difficulty communicating his own thoughts and feelings to people as well, and sometimes, what he’s trying to express gets diluted, causing him to be misunderstood instead.
It’s why he sort of drifted towards art after what had happened. It lets him use harsh strokes of a brush, jagged, smooth and whatever he had desired that day. It lets him use colours — blue, grey, red, and green — all of it being splashed onto the canvas and creating a colourful mess of emotions he had been feeling for the longest time. In short, it helped him express himself more clearly and he’s able to convey a lot of his more complex thoughts through the medium of pencil and paint.
But the thing was, art was kind of like being deaf, because you couldn’t properly appreciate it or understand it if you don’t share a love or knowledge of art. The art piece couldn’t talk to him either, so… in the end, he was still lonely.
“!” As he walked down the streets back to his dormitory after a long day of internship, Yeosang caught his eye on a notice stuck to one of the lampposts.
It seemed to be a flyer of sorts, promoting the opening of new classes at a community club nearby and directing people towards it. But what really caught his attention was the fact that the new classes being opened up to the public were sign language classes, and it almost seemed like yesterday when he had first attended some. Why not check them out? He thinks. After all, he had a lot of time on his hands and, frankly, had nothing else on the agenda after work.
Thus, after he had decidedly taken a picture of the flyer, Yeosang followed the directions to the community club and located the classroom where the classes were being held.
Since the classes were relatively new, Yeosang wasn’t expecting much of an audience. He could see rows of tables and chairs lined up neatly to face the whiteboard but only a number of participants were sitting in them and learning from the teacher in charge. They were very attentive, the few, diligently taking down notes and asking questions when they were in doubt. The atmosphere was mostly nostalgic to Yeosang and it sort of reminded him of himself when he had first attended such classes.
In fact, now that he thought about it, being in these classes made him feel far more included than being in the real world. People started from the same starting point, they learned together and taught each other. But most importantly, they could understand each other on the same level, and Yeosang guessed that it was that sort of instant connection with others that he had really missed.
Classes had ended soon after and a file of people had exited the classroom. Given that it was now over, Yeosang had, as such, prepared to take his leave as well. However, before he could do so, he felt a small tap on his shoulder and when he turned around, he was faced with the teacher in charge of today’s class.
A young boy, seemingly around his age, and with strikingly fluffy red hair that complemented quite well with his pearl black eyes and pursed lips. His cheeks were round and chubby, and yet at the same time, his gaze pierced through his soul as if he were trying to assess his true identity. His shoulders were pretty broad as well and Yeosang attributed his good physique to strong physical strength. Whatever he did, he was most certain he didn’t want to be on his bad side.
He signed toward him, I saw you standing outside earlier. Are you interested in one of our classes?
Flustered, Yeosang quickly shook his head and frantically signed back, Oh! No! I’m fine, actually! I just came to have a look at them, that’s all. Sorry if I had intruded your classes in any way.
The other laughed quietly, a hand over his mouth as his eyes creased upwards into crescent moons, a small glint in his pupils as he signed back, Ah I see. Sorry about that.
Yeosang shook his head again and he bowed slightly before bidding farewell to the other. However, just then, he had a sudden realisation and almost immediately did his heart began to race and his legs moved on their own. He turned around swiftly and reached out to him.
Hey, I know this is a little out of pocket but would you like to be friends?
☆ Jongho was taken aback and his eyes had widened to the sudden question being posed toward him. Friends? He probably hasn’t heard anyone ask him that in quite some time. The last he’s ever asked someone that question was back during his pre-school years.
He had been playing in the playground by himself when he had spotted a group of kids playing in the sandbox, and wanting to join in the fun, he had written on the notepad he had used at the time a question similar to this one. Jongho wasn’t sure how they reacted at the time, he could vaguely remember the confusion and frustration they bore on their faces. Whatever the case, he vividly remembered being shouted at. At least what it seemed like from their mouths moving and then he was pushed and splashed with sand that caused his eyes to hurt really badly.
It was the last time he ever tried making friends outside of the people he knows, and he’s been perfectly content on his own ever since.
But has he really been fine? He wondered to himself.
He stared at the other for a moment, seemingly observing his behaviour and features.
He was quite beautiful for a person his age, perfect skin and beautifully carved face. His nose was pointed at the perfect angle and his eyes were narrowed in a way that made him look really pretty. Coupled with the blonde hair, Jongho thinks he’s just found himself a man that’s way past the average male of beautiful. He can’t really even pinpoint what or how to describe him because of how pretty he was.
Ah! I’m so sorry! That must have come off too strong! The other had suddenly apologised, grinning awkwardly and rubbing the back of his neck. He then signed, It's just, you’re deaf right?
Jongho nodded silently to his question. He was intelligent. Jongho liked that.
So..I was thinking that we could be friends, The male tried to explain, We can understand each other, and well, I just think it would be nice to have someone that I can properly communicate with for once. If you get what I mean? N-Not that the others aren’t kind to me of course but.. He seemed to be struggling to put the rest of his thoughts into words, but Jongho seemed to get it.
And yet, that gnawing suspicion that he was going to be betrayed again clawed at his mind. A feeling of constant fear looming over him as he weighed his options carefully.
But um, you know, if you’re uncomfortable, we could maybe exchange numbers for the time being, The other had then suggested, And if you’re ready, we can meet up somewhere and learn more about each other. What do you say?
There was a long silence between them as Jongho pondered his answer. After a bit, he finally signed back, Sure.
After his words had dropped, he could visibly see the other’s face light up, the way the smile across his face surfaced into a giant grin and how his eyes curved into a happy canvas of glistening stars that just beamed at him with gratitude. He was cute, Jongho thinks. And he had the most precious smile in the whole damn world.
They had exchanged numbers thereafter and when he was about to leave, the other had signalled for his attention, signing at him, Thanks so much. I don’t think I’ve gotten your name yet.
Jongho couldn’t hold back the smile that had now formed on his face and signing back, he told him, My name is Jongho.
It’s nice to have met you, Jongho. My name is Yeosang. I do hope that we get a chance to meet again.