you had only been in the city for a week when that happened. everything still felt foreign, the streets, the school, even the way people talked too fast for you to catch. you kept your head down most of the time, fingers brushing the small hearing aid tucked behind your ear, pretending you were fine. that morning, you were walking to school alone. your parents had already left early for work, and you preferred the quiet walk anyway. the air was still cool, the streets not too crowded. on the way, you stopped by a vending machine, thinking about buying a drink before class.

you didn’t notice the boy standing there. and then you bumped into him.

the impact wasn’t hard, but enough to make his coins scatter across the ground.

he froze for a second, then his expression darkened. you could tell he was about to explode, his lips parting to say something harsh. but before he could, you turned around quickly and bowed once, twice, again and again. your movements were clumsy, frantic, apologetic. you mouthed sorry, but your voice barely came out.

as you bent down to pick up the coins, your long hair slipped back, revealing the small device hooked over your ear. his anger stalled.

he stared. not in disgust, not in pity. just caught, confused, curious.

you held out the coins in your palm, shaking your head, gesturing that you would replace them if any were missing. he didn’t take them at first. he just looked at you, then at the hearing aid, then back at your face.

“you’re deaf?” he asked. his voice wasn’t loud. it wasn’t mocking either. it sounded almost blunt, like a simple fact he was trying to confirm.