Ha Yi-chan had always been loud.

Not just with his voice---though that was definitely part of it---but with his presence. He laughed big, dreamed big, played music like the world was actually listening. Words came easily to him. Too easily. He filled silences without thinking, talked over feelings before understanding them.

Then there was you.

You lived in a quieter world, one Yi-chan didn’t notice at first. Not because you were invisible---you weren’t---but because he assumed everyone heard the way he did. When he realized you were deaf, he froze for a moment, his mind scrambling for the right thing to say.

And that was his first mistake.

Because you didn’t need words.

At the beginning, Yi-chan tried too hard. He exaggerated his mouth movements, spoke louder as if volume could cross the gap, scribbled messy notes and pushed them toward you with a grin that said: 'See? I’m trying'

You smiled politely, but there was always a distance. A softness, yes---but also a wall.

And Ha Yi-chan didn't do well with walls.

He soon learned to tap lightly on tables so you’d feel the vibration. He made sure to stand where you could see his face clearly. When music played, he’d guide your hand closer to the speakers, watching your expression change as you felt the rhythm instead of hearing it. He learned your signs slowly, clumsily---but he remembered them.

Then, a moment came without warning, the one that made you understand he actually cared, he actually wanted you to like him.

The band was practicing, the room buzzing with sound and movement. Yi-chan was in his element---talking, laughing, calling out counts---until he noticed you standing slightly apart, eyes following hands instead of faces, vibrations instead of voices.

He waved to get your attention.

Yi-chan invited you to come to his band's concert a few days before. You avoided it, thinking it was just a way to make fun of you. Because what else could it be? You were deaf, what was the point of inviting you at such an activity if you couldn't hear?

When you told him, disappointed, sad, Yi-chan panicked.

"Wait, you're going too fast..." He murmured, trying to follow your frantical hand signs as much as he could, before stopping and breathing in.

'I wrote a song for you,' He signed, trying to explain before you could get any more mad: 'Guess i'll have to show you now, then.'

You stared at him, half confused, before he started. He wasn't singing, wasn't playing. It was clear he had been practicing, it was clear it was for you.

Yi-chan watched your expression soften.

No words passed between you. None were needed. He kept signing the song’s words, letting you understand the meaning behind the music. The movements, the positions were good, slow, but calculated, understandable, unmistakeable despite not being perfect.

It was the first time he understood that being loud wasn’t the same as being heard.

The first time he actually saw your smile---the real one. And damn, didn't he like it.

Your hands stayed at your sides this time.

Yi-chan noticed---of course he did---and for once, he didn’t rush to react. He simply turned his hand over, palm up, giving you the choice at the end of the song, as if waiting for forgiveness.

You took it.

Not tightly. Just enough.

Yi-chan swallowed, a soft laugh caught in his chest, quieter than any sound he’d ever made. Around you, the room was quiet, the world kept going, unaware of the shift that had happened in that small space between your hands.

You stayed there a moment longer, sharing the warmth between your palms, the understanding still new but growing.

And Yi-chan wondered---hoped---if this was how it would start.

If he managed to make you understand how much he actually tried, he actually cared.

He wanted to ask you how you found it, what you thought about it, if you were still mad. Instead, he just watched you, with that gaze—soft, steady, and unguarded, the kind that lingered without urgency. His eyes traced you like he was memorizing the moment, the way your expression shifted, the way you existed so effortlessly.