47A/N: I usually don't put any comments on stories, but, because of this topic, I've decided to do so in this case. I would like to take this moment to apologize to those who might find this AU offensive, as I did not intend, nor do I think it comes off that way. Even though I myself am not deaf, I have tried my absolute best in researching and educating myself on the subject; this includes learning how the ear/hearing works and some sign language, watching countless videos of opinions about deafness from those who have it, and even interviewing some individuals whom have it. Know that I have the utmost respect for deafness and those who have it, whether they identify with the Deaf community or not. And with that, I bid you read on.
Sometimes, Hiro wonders what it's like to hear.
Wonders in such a wistful way that he's sure Tadashi would scold him for it should he ever find out. But Hiro's smart, extremely smart actually, and he doesn't even need a fraction of his intelligence to know that what Tadashi doesn't know won't hurt him. So, he continues to wonder- to think, to imagine, to dream.
Sometimes he imagines he can hear the going-ons of the cafe. The incoherent babble of customers as they go on with their lives, contently chewing loudly on their freshly baked pastries and slurping their drinks so profoundly it must sound something close to the waterfalls he sees on tv. Or how the chairs screech against the hard floor, creating a sound that makes people in close proximity cringe and those far off to turn in its direction. The clink of dishes as they're served and washed, always on the move. The small ding the bell makes when someone new enters the place, door slamming shut with a resounding thud behind them, their unique voices adding to the symphony of music that already exists within the warm atmosphere of the cafe, which is always ready to welcome another.
And when he's leaning precariously out his window he tries to guess what the outside world sounds like. The honk of horns being blown by frustrated drivers, following a close call when Tadashi wasn't there to cross the street with him. The meaningless chatter of strangers as they gossip and rush about, quick click-clack of steps echoing after them like a marching militia. The screams of delighted children who have escaped the reins of their parents, sliding down grassy hills and sprinting after one another, not a single worry crossing their minds. The swift slap of rubber on gravel when a bicyclist races by- a hobby that's considered too high risk for Hiro, Aunt Cass and Tadashi lecture when they find his makeshift rocket bike in pieces after a failed trial- high pitched bells preceding them and demanding attention.
He thinks long and hard about the small tune his Aunt Cass hums to herself when she goes about her day, unable to see his curious gaze from over the banister of the stairs. He puzzles over Mochi's purr; the vibrations that run through the feline and into his own chest as the chubby house pet claims it as his napping spot for the day only make him all the more curious. He pretends to know the sounds his tools might make when he uses them to create his latest ingenious idea, the clanking and creaking that occurs when metal meets metal marking progress he can't wait to show everyone. He ponders over Tadashi's recently revealed project, Baymax, and what its marshmallow exterior must sound like when it rubs against itself, the nursebot's precise steps surely giving it a rhythm he can't hear. He even considers what his own voice sounds like, self-consciously analyzing anyone and everyone's reaction to it when, on rare occasion, he decides to actually use his vocal cords.
But, most of all, he wonders about what Tadashi sounds like.
He wonders and wonders and wonders- and wonders some more after that, but finds that he can never come up with the right words to explain it all.
Sometimes, it eats away at him so much that he considers asking; considers swallowing his embarrassment and paranoia, even though he knows that Tadashi would never find it a hindrance and happily answer all his questions. Only, he chickens out when he confronts the older Hamada's patient and eager smile, instead asking about that nerd school of his and having to hold back an eye roll when his brother immediately starts rambling on about all its positive attributes in alphabetical order.
He finds himself staring at his brother when he talks to customers or his friends, finding that a small part of him is jealous that these people- these people who are definitely not him- get to hear it. Get to hear it and treat it like it's nothing, unaware of the privilege they possess. Unaware of his own burning questions, impatiently waiting to be asked and answered.
Is it high or low pitched? Loud or quiet? What about nasally? Does he have a lisp that slips into all his conversations as an unwelcome guest? Does it crack when he lies, moving embarrassingly up an octave when under pressure? Are his whispers just as secretive as the hand signs he sends Hiro's way under the dinner table, out of Aunt Cass's sight? Does his breath go wheezy when he laughs too hard at the jokes Hiro makes, eyebrows usually raised comically for the greatest effect? Is it as encouraging as his smile? As gentle as the comforting words he signs at him? Is it-
Hiro is violently thrown out of his thoughts when something hits him square in the face, making him jerk back in surprise. A noise escapes his lips. He can't hear it, but he knows nonetheless. He hopes it didn't sound as primitive as it felt.
He looks down and picks up the pencil that had been flung at him, inspecting it incredulously, before leveling his gaze with the person who's responsible for the object's unsuspected flight. Tadashi is sitting in the swivel chair across the garage, hand poised to throw another pencil and expression varying between amusement and concern. The older boy drops the potential projectile immediately once he captures Hiro's attention.
"What's up?" he inquires, both vocally and not, hand movements slow to ensure Hiro understand what exactly he means.
Hiro shakes his head, opting not to respond.
"You've been staring at me for the last fifteen minutes," his brother insists. "You didn't even notice when I threw the other stuff."
The younger Hamada looks around his station, surprised to see an assortment of objects spread around him, ranging from erasers to protractors. He blinks owlishly before looking up and carefully considers his brother.
"I was just thinking," he decides to respond, elaborating when the other raises an eyebrow. "Of a new idea."
When Tadashi's unimpressed expression doesn't change, he smiles wide, knowing exactly what to say to get his brother's protective attitude to lay off. "What do you think of the name 'Megabot 2.0'? Too cliché?"
And true to his predictions, Tadashi rolls his eyes, mumbling something he can't quite read. But he does speak aloud a single word that Hiro does understand, not even needing the ability to hear, having already memorized the mouth formations necessary to produce such a word.
"Knucklehead."
Hiro smiles cheekily when Tadashi crosses the room to pick up his utensils, affectionately ruffling his hair as he returns to his seat and work.
There's a lapse of conversation between the two after that, both seemingly content to mind their own; Tadashi with his work and Hiro in watching.
However, soon enough, Hiro finds himself getting bored.
The momentum for going back to his previous thought process is long gone, leaving him with only a few options; actually working on Megabot, which is something he finds he is unmotivated to do, or find some other distraction. He opts for the later.
The young prodigy slumps on the couch he's on, exhaling, head rolling back and limbs going limp. He spots Tadashi giving him a small, fond smile from his peripheral vision; he exhales, in what he hopes is a loud fashion, for the other's benefit and is pleased to see that it brings out a small chuckle before his brother turns back to his work with an amused shake of the head.
No longer having the attention of his brother, he turns toward the ceiling, counting the number of burn marks sketched into it (thirty seven). He flips onto his stomach when the exercise becomes too tedious and stretches over the arm of the couch, skinny arms extending and touching the cold floor. He's about to let out another sigh, chest the size of a balloon with how much air he's already inhaled, when he sees it.
It is a small box, hidden in an equally as small cavity made from the space between the couch and the shelves it's pressed against. It's hidden just so, nestled as it is in the tight corner, Hiro realizes, that it'd be difficult to spot if one didn't know exactly where to look.
His hands move on their own accord, reaching out and pulling the cardboard box, contents and all, out of its shelter. He plops back onto his butt, crossing his legs underneath him as he settles the box in his lap. Eyebrows raise themselves as he reads the familiar scrawl sketched onto the cardboard.
Hamada, Tadashi
Before his fingers touch the folds of the box, Hiro pauses, hesitantly thinking about rules. Sacred rules, he reminds himself, that should be followed; especially Rule #34: Hamada Brothers don't touch one another's stuff without clearance.
He's about to put the thing back when he feels something crinkle against his touch. A postage note, stuck to the bottom of the box. He skims over it curiously.
Date: May 5th
Recipient: Hamada, Hiro
Model: 84.0
He frowns and his fingers twitch, making the decision for him. He feels the sharp corners of the flaps and pulls at them, giving light to whatever lies inside the box. There's a moment where Hiro hesitates, eyes flickering in his brother's direction, before he charges on through and lifts the mystery object out of its packaging.
Brown eyes sweep over what seems to be some sort of gadget, studying and analyzing it. He turns it in his hands, lifting it closer to his face, eyes squinting in the low light, and nearly gives himself a heart attack when he flips a small switch and the thing breaks apart. It's not until closer inspection that he realizes that the thing isn't really broken, but actually two separate parts of a whole.
It looks like one of those earphones- which clip around the auricle of the ear to provide better stability- he sees joggers use all the time, minus the wires. But Hiro knows better than to assume. He knows better and he knows technology, especially something as advanced as this. When he pushes a tab and snaps back a thin layer of the outer casing, painted a rich purple with a single red stripe racing down it, he eyes the intricate work of circuits that blink back at him. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what it is.
A hearing aid.
His brows furrow as he considers it all. A hearing aid, from Tadashi it seems, obviously meant for Hiro, lying around. Lying around, waiting for the day to be discovered.
His first thoughts are ones of confusion. Was Tadashi trying to tell him something? Did he mean for Hiro to find this? Was this a hint toward something?
His next thoughts are filled with devastation. Did Tadashi give this to him because he thought Hiro a hindrance? Was Hiro's handicap finally too much to bear? Did Tadashi resent being his brother? To having a 'disabled' nuisance latching onto him?
Hiro has never really thought about his deafness, not as a handicap anyway. It's never been a problem to him- maybe an inconvenience on a full moon, but nothing more. Though, on occasion, when he's feeling exceptionally low, he'll think of all the complications it- he, makes. The drawbacks- the speech therapy he took in the earlier years of his life, the inconvenience of everyone having to learn sign language, the inevitable isolation that made his family worry, the bullying he received, the close calls. He'll wonder about the happiness of his family, which, in turn, only worsens his mood- it taking Tadashi precisely one wrestling match to wring that storm cloud away, for it to be battled another day.
Of course, it's crossed his mind that he could probably invent something that might fix his so-called 'problem.' But whenever it comes up, always accompanied by unconditional support from his family, Hiro finds himself almost relishing his deafness. He savors the way their family shapes itself around it, finding it unique and theirs.
Hiro looks up to see his brother deep in thought, unaware of the scrutiny or his inner monologue. Occasionally, he'll passionately scratch something out in his notebook, mumbling to himself, mouth not moving prominent enough to give Hiro an accurate guess to what words he's making.
Tadashi doesn't have a mean bone in his body, he reminds himself with a firm shake of his head, and would never find Hiro a hindrance. He berates himself for his earlier overreaction, thinking that Tadashi only does what he does because he loves him- something his brother will openly state, unabashed as he makes a show of hugging Hiro, despite the embarrassing topic and public setting.
The hearing aid is a gift, Hiro realizes as he stares at his brother, an option. Not a spiteful hint or mean advice, but a choice that is entirely Hiro's. The young boy blinks a few times, eyes watery.
Suddenly, his older brother thrusts his fists into the air, scaring Hiro. It's years of living as the youngest that has Hiro's first instinct to stash the box and its content behind him and away from prying eyes and anyone who can scold him. His brother doesn't notice, face lighting up in joy and understanding as he starts talking to himself; doing the bare minimum of signing, too wrapped up in his blimp of exhilaration over a breakthrough, which Hiro is all too understanding of.
However, Hiro can't help but feel detached from the scene, from his brother. Can't help the bitterness that rises when Tadashi returns to his work with vigor, mumbling opinions, ideas, and thoughts Hiro won't hear. It feels like he's missing out. Feels like he doesn't know Tadashi as he should.
Not only does he wonder what it's like to hear, he wants to be able to.
And that's what pushes him to take the hearing aid and clip both around his ears.
He sits there for a moment, ears sensitive to the cool material touching them, wondering. His nerves start tingling when he reaches up and presses down on the still open circuit board, feeling it vibrate as it powers on. He clicks the plastic covering back in place, shoving his restless hands in between his crossed legs, and waits.
Beep.
Hiro freezes, eyes unfocusing.
It's then that everything clicks into place. He is suddenly aware of the small fan in the corner of the room, its blades whizzing and humming insistently. He can hear the bird perched on the branch of the tree right outside the window, chirping and twittering with not a care in the world. He shifts, mind instantly zoning in on the sound of the fabric of the couch rubbing against his skin, so unique that he can't adequately describe it.
It's like nothing he's ever known, yet, everything all at once. It doesn't even matter that things sound muffled and distorted from time to time, it is its own type of clarity.
His face twitches, unsure of what it wants to convey.
A creak breaks through the comfortable sounds of the garage, drawing Hiro's attention to where Tadashi is leaning back in his chair. His brother scratches his arm, nails scraping against skin. Hiro sucks in a sharp breath when his brother opens his mouth and lets out the clearest "Yes!" A short laugh follows almost immediately.
Tadashi looks up, good-natured smile already in position. However, it soon morphs into a frown of concern when he takes in Hiro's deer in headlights expression.
"Hiro?" he asks.
But Hiro doesn't answer. Mouth parting as his jaw goes slack, he stares at his brother, speechless.
His voice, his mind whispers insistently, his voice. It's deep, deeper than he expected. Warm too, mirroring what's in his eyes. Strong, clear and precise, just like how he signs. Just like Tadashi.
Hiro's eyes start to sting, vision blurring when the tears come.
"Hiro? What's the matter? Hiro?" the older Hamada asks with more force, hands moving faster and more desperate the longer Hiro remains silent. "Hiro, come on buddy, I'm losing my mind here." Voice taking on a more frantic tinge, he's out of the chair and at Hiro's side, kneeling down and setting both hands on the smaller of the two's shoulders. Somewhere, outside the garage, a woman shrieks, it turning immediately into indignant scolding after. "Talk to me."
A hiccup escapes the prodigy; the sound, so short and sudden, still isn't enough to stop the tears. Every new sound makes him bawl harder, his cries loud in his own ears.
Tadashi gently pries away Hiro's fist from his tear stained face, his expression stern as he lets go in order to sign, "Hiro, if you don't tell me what's going on th-"
"You," he finally cries, one of his hands patting his brother's larger ones, efficiently stopping their movement; the heel of his other hand rubs at his eyes, painfully digging into the socket. "It's you."
Tadashi stops, surprised just as Hiro is at the sound of his voice, confusion and pain mixing together as he whispers, "Me?"
"I-It's your… s-stu-upid v-oice."
"My voice?" Said voice rises in question. The younger boy nods, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve and making a face when he hears the sound and visual that accompanies it. "Why would my voice upset you? You can't…"
He trails off, eyebrows furrowing momentarily. Then, somewhere in his mind, a light bulb must goes off. Instantly, his eyes widen to the largest Hiro has ever seen them, expression shifting. Hiro can hear his breathing, especially so when his brother reaches over and pushes a few strands of unruly hair to the side, uncovering his ears and the bright tech settled there.
There's a moment where all Tadashi does is stare. Stare so intently and with such an unreadable expression that Hiro stops his sniffling and can't help but stare back, albeit apprehensively.
The silence is broken with a whisper, so quiet that Hiro almost doesn't catch it. "You can hear me."
Hiro nods, long and slow. He can hear himself swallow and lick his lips, mouth dry, before answering, "Yeah."
At the sound of that small 'yeah' Tadashi flickers back to life.
He laughs, the sound loud and full of cheer. So full of joy that it has a beginning of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, eventually erupting into childish laughter when Tadashi hoists him up and starts jumping around. His older brother pulls him close into a bone crushing hug.
"Hiro!" He shouts, seemingly unable to contain himself, making the younger wince and pat his ear tentatively. "Oops, sorry. But Hiro! This is- oh my god! You can, I mean, I made it for you, but I never expect- just, wow."
All the while, Hiro listens to his brother, basking in his awestruck excitement and obvious joy. The tears are long gone when they start spinning, navigating around furniture and machinery. The happy mood is broken for a fraction of a second when they haphazardly trip over a box of tools, falling into a graceless lump on the floor; quiet curses are muttered about traitorous monkey wrenches stabbing them in the back.
"Wait, wait, wait," Tadashi calls out as they're pulling themselves up. Hiro stops, eyes locking onto eyes just as brown, brows arching quizzically. Tadashi grins, mischief in every line. "Let's show Aunt Cass."
He hears the unspoken 'mess with' and can't help the impish smile that spreads across his face. He scrambles to his feet, pushing playfully at his brother's larger form when it gets in the way, aiming for the door.
They're soon racing up the stairs, feet pounding on the wooden floor as they excitedly call out to their aunt.
