This is for ohmygawditsjane

There's going to be a warning that goes with it. There's a subtle, subtle hint at something that's generally taboo and it's definitely just my trying to go a little off the regular road. All I'm going to say is that you can see it as a possible dependency of a child on someone he loves. That's all I'm going to say. Not much of a warning but I don't really want to spoil anyhting. It's just a hint and you don't even have to read too much into it. That's it. Enjoy.

            Words were all around him. They poured from people’s mouths and they expressed feelings and described people, places, actions. They’re splattered all over blank pages and all one had to do was read them. But the spoken word was yet another art. It was one where people don’t have to understand each other, where each language had its own specialty and every tongue was different. It was an art he had yet to learn.

            He walked around and read lips, or watched them move, feeling hopeless as he couldn’t understand anything. There was a sense of frustration as he moved around the sea of people, wanting to tell them to move and let him through but knowing that whatever passed through his lips they would not understand.

            All he could do was make gestures. Some looked at him and could not comprehend, others moved and all he could do was bow to show his thanks. There was someone shouting in his face suddenly and he blinked. He couldn’t figure out what he was saying. Someone must have figured it out and started throwing up signs. The rapid hand movements he could read and Junhong nodded.

            He signaled back his apologies to the man for accidentally stepping on his foot and saw his random interpreter explain that he was deaf and therefore, couldn’t apologize personally. Instantly, he saw the familiar softening around the eyes, the ‘o’ shape of the mouth as realization settled in, and then the hated creep of pity. He turned to go. He needed to be able to breathe.

            Normally not being able to hear didn’t bother him. He had his noona next to him to help him get through it. She was the only one who could understand him even when he didn’t sign to let him know. He wanted to say that he understood just as well, but apparently he hadn’t.

            Junhong made his way back towards where he had just come from. Today was another day of healing, of reflection by himself. It was no time to face humanity yet, as he had just proved to himself. He walked down to the river again and sat on the bench he had just vacated, curling in on himself.

            He traced the pattern of a wave and thought about how just half a mile down, near the edge, his sister had jumped over. He had noticed there was something wrong, but he couldn’t tell anyone. She never told him, he just saw the dark cloud that passed through her eyes and saw the way she flinched whenever he touched her.

            She, who had always listened to him, seemed to have forgotten that even though he couldn’t physically speak, he had things to say as well. It was okay. He was used to not being heard anyway but when she wouldn’t even look at him, it had hurt him. Junhong couldn’t understand what caused her to change and all he wanted to do was hold her.

            He remembered the day perfectly. Their mom had asked them to go out together and he grabbed her hand. She had given him a look of an emotion he couldn’t quite place. But it had scared him because he wasn’t sure if it was at him and if it were, what had he done wrong?

            He saw move and was dumbfounded. Had she forgotten that she couldn’t talk to him like that? Junhong desperately signed, “What’s wrong?” But she just looked at his hands as if they were foreign, at the shapes he was making as if they meant nothing and glared at him. She opened the door and walked out before he had.

            Junhong thought back to what he had done to her the past few days. He remembered nothing that was out of the order. She had already been shying away and he distantly recalled something different. She had always smelled like peaches and apples but one day she came back smiling like a spice he couldn’t put a description to.

            He had asked her why she smelled different and her response was to shrug but he saw her shrink away. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked that. As Junhong remembered, he finally pieced the odor to that of a man. He knew his father had something a shade off but similar, and so he had asked her if she was with a man. It meant nothing to him, he had just wanted to know but she jumped away and shouted something before walking out. His homework was left undone.

            He had gone into her room that night, wanting to reconcile. His noona had never been this upset at him. When he came in, just like old times, he had slipped under the covers and hugged her. But he had grown taller and she was encased in him, and no longer the other way around. He had touched something soft, something he couldn’t quite describe, and she had woken up only to widen in horror.

            She pushed him away and scrambled to pull the blankets over her and he had been confused. She hit him that night. She hit him for the first time and he had cried quietly in the corner until she finally stopped and signed for him to leave. He had listened because what else could he have done?

            She grew more distant and when he held her hand to cross the sidewalk, she lost it. He had watched her push past the crowd and tried to follow. When he saw her, she was already scrambling over the railing. was open and he wished he could hear. He wished he could understand what she was saying but all he saw was the look of fear and anger and hatred as she let her foot slip and then she was gone, washed away.

            Junhong shook his head, not wanting to remember. He didn’t know what had gone wrong but he knew whatever it was, if only he could hear, if only he had a voice, he could have tried to prevent it.