Chapter Text
“There you go, deaf prick.”
Riki bent down to pick up the broken hearing aids lying on the floor. His fingers brushed the cracked plastic, tracing the thin wire that now lay useless between his palms. He looked up.
The boy who had knocked it from his hands stood a few steps away, smirking like this was all just another game.
He knew him. Always like this.
Lee Sangwon. Donator’s son. Loud, entitled, the kind of person who believed the world owed him respect simply for existing. The one who had picked a fight with Riki on his very first day at the school, sizing him up like prey.
“Cat got your tongue, Nishimura?” Sangwon leaned closer, that smug, self-satisfied smile curling on his lips. The hallway noise faded around them, as if the world itself held its breath for what would happen next.
“Maybe he’s not just deaf… maybe he’s mute too.” His friend snickered, arms crossed, voice dripping with mockery.
Riki’s jaw tightened. His hands balled into fists, thumbs pressing hard against his fingers. He hated being targeted. Hated being tripped, shoved, laughed at. Hated that people thought silence meant weakness.
But being deaf didn’t mean he was powerless. And being silent didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight back—he had learned to speak with his eyes, with small gestures, with controlled, dangerous stillness.
Sangwon and his friend paused, the laughter dying in their throats, though their smirks stubbornly stayed.
“I’m advising you… step away from here, Nishimura. There’s no place for someone flawed like you.”
Even without hearing, Riki had learned to read lips, to catch the subtle cues in a person’s posture, their breathing, the twitch of an eyebrow. He could see the arrogance, the expectation of fear, the casual cruelty.
He balled his hands tighter, thumb pressing against fingers until his knuckles whitened, and jabbed downward with a deliberate motion. His gaze didn’t shift from Sangwon, unwavering, sharp, controlled. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at his lips.
Piece. Of. Shit.
Sangwon’s eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched, low growl rumbling in his throat. He leaned down again, yanking at Riki’s collar with practiced force.
“What did you just sign, bitch?”
Riki wavered, the tug pulling at his balance, but his eyes didn’t blink or dart away. Not even a flicker of fear. His posture was firm, his chest steady, even if his heart had picked up pace.
He had faced bullies before. People who tried to scare him, push him around, assume his silence made him weak.Bullies that cornered him after the last bell. Typical. They never had the guts to face the teachers—they picked on him only when no one was watching. Riki never once cried or showed that he is scared. And he had never backed down.
“You think silence makes you untouchable? I can send your ass away with just a phone call , you know?” Sangwon hissed, teeth bared.
Riki’s gaze alone was answer enough, cool, unreadable, dangerous. A faint, almost imperceptible curl of his lips tugged at the corner—quiet, controlled, and infuriating.
Riki yanked sangwon’s hands away from him.
Sangwon froze. His words stumbled. The hallway around them seemed to shrink; other students whispered, eyes flicking between the two.
Riki bent again to gather the broken earpiece, fingers steady, eyes locked on Sangwon the entire time. Not a sound left his lips. Not a single sound.
...........................................
Riki walked through the narrow alleyways on the way to his apartment, the broken earpiece still clutched in his hand. The cold night air pressed against his cheeks, and the faint smell of grilled fish and steamed rice from nearby homes teased his senses.
Without his hearing aids, the world was quiet, except for the small vibrations under his feet as his sneakers brushed against the pavement.
He had barely enough money to quiet his hunger, and now the earpiece he’d used for months lay ruined. It had been his lifeline in classrooms, his small shield against the noise he didn’t want to face.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Dozens of messages from Sunoo and Jungwon asked if he’d made it home, if he’d eaten, if he was okay. He pressed his thumb over the screen, feeling the reassuring vibration, and exhaled.
They didn’t need to know what happened tonight—not really. They had already stocked his pantry, paid his rent.
His parents? Far away, working too hard to worry about him.
Scholarship or not, he had fought tooth and nail to make life easier for them. Being the middle child, the only son, had taught him to put everyone else first, to swallow his own fears and quiet his own pain. He'd be lying to his mom saying his life in foreign country is surviveable and fun. The truth is he missed home, he missed his family.
The streetlights flickered overhead, their glow reflecting off the wet asphalt. Without sound, the world sharpened in other ways. He noticed the rhythm of his own footsteps, the way the cold bit at his fingers, the faint tremor of a distant engine passing by. He could feel life around him, even if he couldn’t hear it—the pulse of a city that never truly slept.
He clenched the broken earpiece tightly in his fist, letting the cold metal ground him. Maybe not hearing the world was a blessing. He didn’t need to hear insults, mocking laughter, the careless cruelty of people like Sangwon.
His pace quickened. The alley was empty, shadows stretching like fingers along the walls.
A small thought nudged at him—a warm bowl of miso soup, the way it steamed and smelled, could be the only comfort waiting at home tonight.
Even in silence, the city was alive. And he, quiet and watchful, moved through it on his own terms.
...........................................
The city lights of Seoul glittered like scattered diamonds as Sunghoon and his friends slipped through the crowded streets. Jake was already running ahead, arms flailing dramatically as he shouted at a street vendor, trying to negotiate a ridiculous discount for snacks no one even wanted.
“Yah, Jake! You’re embarrassing us!” Sunghoon called, rolling his eyes but grinning, letting the chaos pull him along.
Jay sipped slowly from his iced coffee, calm as ever, watching Jake with a mix of amusement and mild exasperation. “Somebody has to keep you in check,” he said, voice smooth and steady, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “You can’t be running wild all the time.”
“Please,” Sunghoon scoffed, leaning back against the railing of the bridge overlooking the river. “Where’s the fun in being calm all the time?”
Heeseung, the oldest of the group, let out a quiet chuckle from behind him. “Somebody has to clean up after your messes, you know. Don’t forget that.” His teasing tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of affection.
Sunghoon pushed off the railing, jogging to catch up with Jake, who had paused dramatically at a street corner, pointing at a poster for a local café. “Look at that, guys! Free samples! That’s what I call winning at life!”
Jay sighed, shaking his head, but his smirk betrayed amusement. “Why are you so excited over free samples? you are literally rich rich.”
Heeseung rolled his eyes but followed, hands in pockets, keeping an eye on the two younger boys. “You’re all fucking ridiculous. Absofuckinglutely ridiculous.”
Jake hummed. "Old man found everything absofuckinglutely ridiculous."
Heeseung scoffed and picked up his pace to chase jake.
Sunghoon laughed, the sound loud and infectious. It drew a few curious glances from passersby, some impressed, some annoyed—but he didn’t care. He thrived in the attention, in the energy, in the chaos he created and navigated effortlessly.
The night stretched on, streets alive with light and movement. They wandered into a small arcade, yelling over the machines, teasing one another, making bets they had no intention of keeping. Sunghoon let himself be loud, dramatic, untouchable, confident—a king in a world that had never asked him to be quiet.
And as he laughed, leaned back, and nudged Jake for the hundredth time, Sunghoon felt perfectly at home in the noise, the chaos, the city that pulsed like him—bold, unstoppable, and alive.
What a different lives and stories they had.