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For Shouyou, the noise of the world has always been an infrequent, muted hum in the back of his head. Sometimes, like when he’s in the private rooms of the hospital for his check-ups, the background noise all but completely vanishes, occasionally interrupted by short hiccups. Other times, like when his dads are leading him through the busy streets of Chicago by his hand, the faint noise is steadier, a dull roar that follows him like a cloud that he knows is there, but he can never quite touch.
This is the world he’s always lived in, the one he’s used to. He doesn’t need his hearing.
And it’s okay if Tobio sometimes forgets that Shouyou can’t hear, and goes off on long, excited tangents that Shouyou can’t even hope to understand. Or if he can’t watch movies without his dads spelling everything out for him. Or if he can’t play with the other kids on the jungle gym, because they always look at him funny when he doesn’t talk.
It’s something that Shouyou’s lived with his whole life, something that’s never really bothered him, if only because he’s never known any different.
His world has always been quiet, and he’s never thought it could be any different.
So, when Dr. Iwaizumi announces that Shouyou can start wearing hearing aids, no wide smile shines across his face and no excited laughter bursts from his lips.
At least not immediately. Because next to him, his dad is cheering loudly enough that gentle ripples brush against the silence around him, and Shouyou follows along, giggling and clapping his hands together, even when he doesn’t understand why they’re celebrating.
He trails off when his other father, the calmer, gentler one whose voice rarely interrupts the quiet that buzzes inside Shouyou’s head, strokes his hair. “Do you want hearing aids, Shouyou?”
And he does. Because his dad is still laughing excitedly beside him. Because Dr. Iwaizumi has two small things hooked around his own ears, and he kind of looks like a superhero. Because, even though he asked, his father looks expectant, like he’s sure that yes, of course Shouyou would want hearing aids.
Because isn’t noise something he’s supposed to want?
And then, his father adds on, “They’d help you hear things, and then you’d be able to do everything that the other kids can do. I think they’d be good.”
Even if he doesn’t realize it yet, too young to understand the childish need to mimic the adults around him, the expectations of the people he admires is what decides it for him. It’s like a small boy playing dress-up, trying on his father’s tie and stomping around in shiny leather shoes that he won’t fill for many years. He wants to be like his parents, wear the same clothes, eat the same food, hear the same sounds.
Hearing aids would let him experience the world just like anyone else, things would be easier for him later in life, and he’d be able to do the same things that everyone else does. But it’s not because of these reasons that he likes the prospect of hearing aids. It’s because his satisfaction in the silence is eaten away by his parent’s opinions, eaten away by his dad’s thrilled cheering, eaten away by his father’s ‘I think they’d be good.’
Nodding to his father eagerly, he decides that he does want hearing aids.
Even if it’s only because it’s what his parents want for him.
“We’re home!”
Akaashi looks up from flipping through the binder in front of him as his husband crashes through the doorway with Shouyou on his shoulders. Reaching up, Bokuto grabs him and swings him down into Akaashi’s lap while kissing his husband quickly.
“How was practice?” Akaashi asks as Shouyou wiggles around in his lap, bouncing and reaching to grab some of the objects from the table in front of him.
Bokuto pushes the pencils and papers out of the toddler’s reach. “It was great! Shouyou had a fun time with the older kids, didn’t you, buddy?”
Shouyou nods eagerly. “I played with big kids, dad!” He signs to Akaashi proudly.
“Really?” Akaashi smiles as his son grins widely, already rambling about everything that happened at Bokuto’s volleyball practice, from the dog he saw on the way there to Bokuto’s players tossing balls for him to pass back. Akaashi listens attentively, even when his son makes hand motions that don’t fit into the CASE vocabulary, creating his own enthusiastic gestures to get his point across.
“Sounds like you had lots of fun.” Akaashi tickles Shouyou under his armpit and scoops him into his arms, standing up from the chair. Shouyou bounces in Akaashi’s arms, and he tightens his grip to keep him contained. “Bokuto, tell him I’m going to put him down for a nap. My hands are a little full.”
Bokuto pouts. “Why are you making me the bad parent? I don’t want to tell our kid he has to go sleep.” Akaashi glares at him, and he reluctantly signs to Shouyou, “Nap time, kid.”
“What? But I’m not tired!” He turns to Akaashi with big, wide eyes, but he chose the wrong parent to fall prey to the puppy-dog look. Stone cold, Akaashi carries him to his bedroom, changing him into his rocket-ship pajamas, tucking him into his covers and handing him his stuffed owl. Shouyou wraps around it, nuzzling his cheek against the plush head and yawning loudly. Akaashi pushes back his son’s bangs and kisses him on the forehead gently before retreating back into the kitchen.
Bokuto has stolen Akaashi’s chair in the time he was gone and ruffles through the papers with wide eyes. “What are all of these?”
Akaashi sighs. “Information for Shouyou’s hearing aids.”
Bokuto’s eyes immediately light up, and he goes through the papers with more enthusiasm. “This is going to be great, Keiji. He’s going to be so excited, I can’t wait to see his face. Imagine it. He’s going to be so happy, and we’ll be able to talk to him. He’ll be able to hear our voices and watch m- Keiji? What’s wrong?”
Without a word, Akaashi steps towards the table and slides one paper over to his husband. Bokuto furrows his eyebrows, waiting for Akaashi to explain, but when he stays silent, he scans the paper.
He finds the problem in the form of a dollar sign, a number, and lots of zeroes. “Holy fuck.” Flabbergasted, he flips the paper over, expecting the word ‘SIKE’ to be written across the back in big capital letters. “All of that for a pair of hearing aids?”
“No,” Akaashi responds, and Bokuto almost sighs in relief. “All of that for one single hearing aid.”
Bokuto bolts straight up, one hand slamming against the table as the other fisted into the paper and shoved it into Akaashi’s face.
“A single hearing aid?!” A nod. “So we have to pay double this amount?!” Another nod. “Can we afford that?!”
“I don’t know.”
“Insurance?”
Akaashi frowns. “They don’t cover it. It’s considered an ‘elective procedure.’’’
“What does that mean?”
“That hearing aids aren’t considered essential to Shouyou’s health.”
For a long while, Bokuto doesn’t move. His jaws hangs slack and his horrified eyes stare into Akaashi’s, searching for some kind of answer. There’s a moment where he straightens his shoulders and his eyes gleam determinedly, and Akaashi almost thinks that he’s about to march to wherever their insurance company is based and demand that they explain themselves.
Instead, he suddenly sags against his husband, wrapping his arms loosely around his neck and supporting his head on his shoulder. “What do we do?”
Akaashi presses his lips against the side of Bokuto’s head. “We work through it. We have some money saved up, and you just got a raise at your job.” That wouldn’t be enough, and they both knew it. “We can do this. We need to do this. For Shouyou.”
Bokuto nods, and they spend the rest of the night counting numbers and figures.
Bokuto finds another, temporary job at a 24 hour clinic down the street. He sits behind a desk during the night, filling out paperwork for the patients in the waiting room and paging doctors. The hours are long, spanning from the late afternoon to the early morning, and he comes home with eyes decorated with dark shadows and a mouth held open in a yawn. He manages to catch a couple hours of sleep before he’s leaving to go coach his students.
And it really takes a toll.
It’s the second week, only a little past 3:30 in the morning, and Bokuto doesn’t even make it to the bed when he gets home. Instead, he collapses across the couch and grabs the closest thing that can be used as a pillow, shoving it under his head and burrowing into it.
According to the clock, Akaashi wouldn’t be awake for another couple of hours to take Shouyou to school before going into work himself. If he fell asleep now, he could get a whole four hours in before he needs to be at the high school, but that would mean sleeping while Akaashi and Shouyou are awake, and he wouldn’t be able to see them until after school lets out.
Groaning, Bokuto readjusts his weight so that his face presses into the pillow. Lately, he’s only been able to see his family during dinner before he’s swept up with work. He’s not able to lounge with them on the couch each evening. He isn’t able to herd Shouyou into his pajamas and tell him good night. He isn’t able to curl around his husband and sleep through the long hours of the night.
In his personal opinion, working two jobs really sucks.
He groans again, miserably, but the sound becomes more of a strangled scream when something jabs against his side painfully.
Bokuto wrenches himself upright, hands positioned to protect himself from whatever monster had just attacked him.
He’s met with the confused face of his four year old son.
Bokuto immediately drops his arms, and Shouyou takes it as permission to crawl up onto the couch next to his dad. Eagerly, Bokuto holds out his arms invitingly, waiting for the familiar weight of his toddler to snuggle against his chest.
Except Shouyou ducks underneath his outstretched arms and snags Bokuto’s impromptu ‘pillow’ from the couch, hugging the stuffed bird tightly before hopping down and turning to scamper back to his room.
“No you don’t,” Bokuto growls to deaf ears, grabbing Shouyou by the back of his night shirt and pulling him back against him. Shouyou laughs as he’s dragged with his father as he falls back against the couch and squirms so that he lays across Bokuto’s chest with his hair brushing Bokuto’s chin. The toddler drops the stuffed owl in favor of wrapping his arms around his dad as far as they can reach, and Bokuto takes the opportunity to put the stuffed owl beneath his head once again.
Bokuto taps his son on his head, and Shouyou looks up, resting his chin on Bokuto’s breast bone. “What are you awake for?”
“It was gone!” Shouyou points at the bird. “And I had to go on a rescue mission to save it!”
Bokuto laughs, quietly because Akaashi is probably still sleeping peacefully in their room.
“You did a good job,” he tells Shouyou, and his son smiles sleepily, dropping his face to burrow himself deeper against Bokuto. “But he’s my hostage for tonight.”
Shouyou doesn’t respond, eyes shut and face pressed over Bokuto’s heart.
That’s why he’s doing this, he reminds himself. So that Shouyou doesn’t have to be restrained by the sounds he can’t hear. So his son can hold conversations with everyone he meets, and so he can do it without giving his entire concentration.
He’s doing this for Shouyou.
Drowsily, Shouyou raises himself again and signs, “Can I go back to bed now?”
“No, kid.” Bokuto places a soft kiss against Shouyou’s forehead. “You’re my hostage tonight too.”
Akaashi finds them like that in the morning, Shouyou’s face pressed into Bokuto’s shoulder and Bokuto snoring into Shouyou’s ear.
Carefully, Akaashi lifts the toddler from Bokuto’s chest, gently wiggling him from beneath the arms caging him and keeping him safely tucked away. When he’s finally free, he bounces Shouyou against his hip to wake him before setting him onto the floor and telling him to get dressed.
Turning back to the couch, Akaashi sighs and pulls a blanket from the arm chair, draping it across his husband. For a second he just stands there, watching Bokuto as he pulls the blanket closer to him and tucks the edge of it under his chin. Then, Akaashi leans down to press a soft kiss to his lips.
He’s stepping away when a hand fumbles for his wrist and pulls his palm towards a pair of lips. Bokuto leaves a gentle kiss along the lines etched into his skin and murmurs, “Just another month or so. Then we’ll have enough.”
Akaashi moves his palm so it rests against Bokuto’s cheek and pushes his face back into the makeshift owl-pillow. “Go back to sleep, Koutarou.”
He has to hide the small smile behind his hand.
It’s half a year after Shouyou’s third birthday - about four months since he’s been officially theirs - when they find themselves sitting in Dr. Iwaizumi’s office again, this time with two shiny hearing aids sitting on the table next to him.
Shouyou bounces in his seat impatiently while Iwaizumi fills in the form on his laptop. He stares at the hearing aids with unconcealed wonder, and Bokuto smiles at his husband from over the toddler’s head.
“I can hear?” Shouyou asks eagerly.
Akaashi laughs. “Not yet, baby, but in a couple minutes.”
Shouyou nods and goes back to his staring contest with the hearing aids. “They’re like superheroes.”
“Yeah, bud, you’ll be just like a superhero once you put those on!” Bokuto responded, and Shouyou’s amazement skyrocketed. He threw his hands into a spontaneous motion, one undefined by CASE, and squawks clumsily in his enthusiasm.
Akaashi combs Shouyou’s hair away from his forehead in a futile attempt to settle him. Shouyou stops bouncing, but his feet continue to bang against the legs of the chair in his restlessness.
When Shouyou doesn’t quiet, Bokuto reaches over and hauls him into his lap. Holding his hands in front of him he says, “You’re gonna be the coolest superhero around. And once you can hear, we can watch all the superhero movies you want so you can practice.”
Shouyou squeals happily, and Bokuto presses excited kisses along the top of his head, reaching over to wrap his hand around Akaashi’s.
Akaashi squeezes Bokuto’s hand softly. Even after all of this, after pulling thousands from saving accounts, Bokuto working two jobs for weeks, and spending hours upon hours trying to find the best hearing aids for their son, it could all be for nothing.
There was the strong possibility it won’t work.
Iwaizumi had told them that Shouyou’s deafness is more complicated than simply not being able to hear anything. In fact, Shouyou is always experiencing some level of sound in the background.
Shouyou’s deafness is severe, meaning that anything quieter than the average motorcycle is undetectable to his ears. Which means that basic conversation is almost entirely out of the question without the support of hearing aids.
From there, Iwaizumi moved on to frequencies and how they affected Shouyou’s hearing. Sounds of higher frequencies were even more impossible for Shouyou to pick up on, including some used in human speech.
It doesn’t mean Shouyou hasn’t heard them though; considering Bokuto’s volume, it’s actually quite likely that their son has heard bits and pieces of their conversations. But with the missing frequencies, it’s impossible for him to make sense of any of it, and it remains nothing more than an undecipherable murmur in the background.
Even with hearing aids certain frequencies will continue to be unreachable for Shouyou.
However, there are some aids - digital ones, top of the line, expensive ones that cost thousands of dollars but do extraordinary things - that will alter the sounds around him, and if necessary, they will alter the tones and drop them to a frequency Shouyou may be able to figure out.
It will still take time, and it will still take effort. Not just from Shouyou, but from those around him too.
And Akaashi and Bokuto are willing to put in as much as it takes to make this work for him.
“Okay,” Iwaizumi says as he turns away from the laptop still displaying an intricate graph across the computer’s screen. “Are you ready to try this, Shouyou?”
Shouyou quivers from his spot in Bokuto’s lap and nods along to Iwaizumi’s words. His eyes move to Iwaizumi’s hearing aids, shiny black boxes hooked around his ears, and his smile grows.
Smiling encouragingly, Iwaizumi picks up Shouyou’s own hearing aids, similar to his own in shape in style, but unique in the bright orange of their cases. He carefully hooks the both of them around Shouyou’s ears, adjusting the rubber cone so that it sat just outside of the ear canal.
When he pulls back, Shouyou’s nose is scrunched in discomfort.
Akaashi watches as Iwaizumi checks with Shouyou before moving forward, making sure the aids are comfortable in his ears. Shouyou just keeps nodding enthusiastically, and a small part of Akaashi wonders if Shouyou’s even aware of what’s about to happen, or if he’s too fixated on the fact that he’s going to be like Iwaizumi, like his parents, like a superhero.
But, when it comes down to it, Shouyou deserves to be able to hear. Even if he’s too young to quite comprehend what he’s missing out on now, the hearing aids will only serve to benefit him as he grows.
Iwaizumi finally pulls back long enough to type something into his computer. Then, he swivels in his chair to grin at the three of them. “Ready, Shouyou?”
Shouyou laughs and nods his fist. “Yes.”
Leaning forward to place a hand on Shouyou’s hearing aids, Iwaizumi says to Bokuto and Akaashi, “Don’t say anything for a bit. Let him get used to the general ambience before we start adding onto it.”
Bokuto makes a noise of steadfast agreement, squeezing Shouyou tighter to his chest in anticipation. Akaashi murmurs a quiet, “Of course,” as he continues to stroke Shouyou’s hair anxiously, remembering that Shouyou could become quickly overwhelmed if he’s exposed to too much sound too quickly. He’s gone years living in near silence, and this will be an adjustment.
And then Iwaizumi flips the small switch along the side of the hearing aid.
The response is immediate.
Shouyou goes rigid, and his eyes fill with something akin to panic. Akaashi is instantly pulling his son’s hand into his own, and Bokuto presses a long kiss against his hair, desperately trying to calm him down before he can get too overwhelmed.
He relaxes just as quickly as he tensed though, urged by the comforting touches of his parents. He blinks slowly, and his eyes flicker around the room, as if hoping to find a single source to all of the new noise he’s hearing.
And then he smiles.
Akaashi releases the breath he’s been holding, and Bokuto slumps in relief from the corner of his eye. Even Iwaizumi is grinning, as he waves a hand in front of Shouyou’s face to capture his attention.
“I’m going to talk to you alright? Tell me if it gets to be too much.”
Shouyou nods.
“Shouyou is my voice clear to you?”
For a while Shouyou doesn’t respond, staring at Iwaizumi in awe. Then: “Those are words?”
From behind him, Bokuto is unable to contain his loud laughter, and Shouyou startles. He whips around quickly, and the entirety of his wonder is placed onto his father. “Laugh!” he shouts with his hands, and Bokuto nods fervently.
Akaashi can see the tears he tries to hide behind his eyes.
Iwaizumi must see them too, because he steps away from the family and moves toward the door. “I think his hearing aids are working properly. I’ll let you guys talk to him for a bit,” he says with a smile, and Akaashi wishes he could find the words to thank Iwaizumi for creating this for them. Before any can leave his mouth, though, Iwaizumi is already stepping out the door, promising he’ll adjust the hearing aids in a few minutes.
Bokuto lifts Shouyou from his lap and plops him down into his own chair, sliding it around so he faces his parents.
Shouyou stares at them both eagerly, eyes wide and excited. Suddenly, Akaashi wants to blurt out as many words as can fit in his mouth, wants to talk to his son, wants his son to hear him.
But Shouyou would surely drown.
They can’t pile the words on top of him, stacking each syllable across his small shoulders and expect him to carry the weight without collapsing. They need to give them to him slowly, one at a time, and let him learn how to hold the weight without adding on another.
Next to Akaashi, Bokuto is shaking. His eyes are alight with glowing coals, and he fists his hands into his jeans to keep himself still. He jolts suddenly and shoves his shoulder into Akaashi’s jerkily.
Go.
They had both agreed that Akaashi would be the first of them to speak to Shouyou. Bokuto’s voice knew no control, and there was a chance that his lungs would burst with abrasive shouts in his excitement. Akaashi could keep himself quiet and collected, gentle on Shouyou’s ear drums.
So Akaashi swallows the lump in his throat, feeling it sink into the tightness deep in his chest. He smiles softly at Shouyou, who still sits eagerly during the short pause, and he says, “Hello, Shouyou.”
Shouyou doesn’t move.
Akaashi waits a moment, then repeats himself.
This time, he signs the words too.
“Hello, Shouyou.”
Shouyou’s mouth falls open immediately and he bounces forward so that he’s no longer seated on the chair. Instead, he shoves himself between Akaashi’s legs and signs, “That’s my name!”
Akaashi can feel his throat closing in on itself as he nods. “Shouyou.”
“Again!”
“Shouyou!” This time it’s Bokuto, and his voice booms against the walls of the small room. Shouyou flinches, but then he’s whirling around to look at his other dad.
Laughing, Bokuto reaches down to lift Shouyou into his lap. “Shouyou,” he repeats, this time with a small, melodic tune to it.
Shouyou giggles.
And claps his hands over his mouth in shock.
“Hear that, baby?” Akaashi asks, signing as he talks. “That was you.”
Shouyou blinks but opens his mouth to try and replicate the sound. Then, excited nonsense is flowing from his lips, babbling unintelligible noises as Bokuto and Akaashi encourage him with their own careful words.
Shouyou is still murmuring the sounds to himself when Iwaizumi reenters the room. He places a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder and hands him a couple of papers neatly stapled together, but Akaashi immediately steals them from Bokuto’s grasp; he knows that his husband shouldn’t be trusted with important documents.
“Just as a fair warning,” Iwaizumi adds as they’re leaving the hospital, “he might be overwhelmed once he gets out there. When I first received my hearing aids, I never wanted to wear them near traffic, or in crowded places, or just anywhere that was too loud in general. Shouyou might be the same.”
Shouyou is the same.
As soon as the family stepps into the bustling streets of Chicago, Shouyou tenses up and tightens his grip on Bokuto’s hand. They only manage to walk a couple of blocks to their apartment before someone slams their car horn, and Shouyou starts to break.
He tugs on his dad’s hand until they’ve all stopped in their tracks. When Akaashi turns around, Shouyou’s eyes are swollen with tears and his lip quivers dangerously.
Another car horn.
And Shouyou bursts.
“Off! Off! I want them off!”
Bokuto immediately ducks down and pulls the hearing aids from Shouyou’s ears. He’s followed by Akaashi who stoops down to rest Shouyou against his hip and gently kiss the tips of his ears.
Tears are still falling from Shouyou’s eyes, but he remains quiet as they continue down the busy streets of Chicago. He falls asleep before they even reach their apartment, and doesn’t wake until Akaashi shifts his weight to pull the apartment keys from his pocket.
No one says anything as they switch the light on in Shouyou’s room. They both change him into his pajamas and tuck the blankets around him as he lays in the bed. Then, as Bokuto and Akaashi are about to step away, he signs, “I don’t like them.”
A small part of Akaashi withers beneath the heated disappointment in his chest. He had really hoped that this would be good for Shouyou. They had worked so hard for the money, they’d done so much research, and Shouyou doesn't even like them.
Bokuto falls to his knees beside Shouyou’s bed. “Did you hate them in the small room? You were smiling and laughing. You looked so happy.”
Shouyou furrows his brows, and Akaashi drops down next to Bokuto. “Did the city freak you out a little bit?” A small nod from Shouyou. “What if you only wear them at home for now? You liked them at the doctor’s, right?” Another nod. “If you don’t want them, though, we won’t make you wear them. Whatever you like best, baby. This is your decision.”
There’s a long pause, and then, “Only in private?”
Akaashi smiles, and Bokuto wraps a hand around his waist. “Only in private.”
And Shouyou beams at them.