the unsung.

noise. - haoran

trigger warning: alcohol/substance abuse, suggested suicide attempt.

a/n: while there are no specific details/gruesome scenes depicted in the following text, if you feel you may be sensitive to some parts of haoran's story, please don't hesitate to wait for the next update instead. i wish nothing but for my readers to feel safe and secure and loved. i hope you're all doing okay. thank you as always for your attention. - kakie

. . .

In a singular moment —

Kuo glanced briefly towards the kitchen where it was evident he might procure his seventh serving of ramen. Just as he was about to, though, Guanyu stopped him in fear. Not from a place of concern or any nurturing instinct — just pure, utter fear at the thought of Kuo somehow managing to consume any more food. Kuo hung his head, disappointed but accepting, a little tuft of his jet black hair dropping onto his forehead as he did so.

Zhuang removed his glasses and searched for a tissue to wipe the lenses down with. Unable to find one unused, he settled for the hem of his shirt, mildly annoyed.

Michio's eyes fluttered, his breathing slowed. The ramen he'd prepared for himself had gone cold, untouched for nearly twenty minutes, now.

The air temperature had gone down about half a degree. The table trembled slightly when Guanyu nudged it with his knee. The lights flickered just barely, almost unnoticeable.

But as always, Haoran noticed. All of it.

He closed his eyes, bringing his left hand to his temple, massaging there lightly as he tried desperately to focus, the way Amah always said he should.

"You okay?" Michio asked, subsequently grounding him.

"Fine." Haoran smiled, tightly.

"Wanna talk about it, didi?" Zhuang asked, kindly. Amah told them it would help Haoran to guide his thoughts into words when he couldn't.

It was a rare occurrence, Haoran being quiet. He was quiet when he arrived here six months prior, cradled in Amah's arms, weak, having gotten so terribly close to death. But this was precisely why his geges were always so quick to notice when he sank into that hole.

"The world is a noisy place." He said, through gritted teeth, eyes darting briefly towards Michio for validation. The latter nodded once in simple encouragement.

"You know the basics — Magical, born in Jiangsu, raised Aware. But when I learned to hear everything... see everything... it was fun at first, you know?" He almost laughed, trying to keep it light. "Knowing things, things that should be left unknown, the world's secrets, stuff like that, it's power."

There was a slight unease which built in the air as the others remembered it was Haoran, at a mere sixteen, who had the highest Auric Count among them. It was Haoran who somehow taught himself to unlock the subtleties of the universe and find his magic in the noise.

But there was a price. There was always a price.

"It got too loud, eventually. Everything hurt, because I heard it all. I saw it all. I learned to observe things at the barest, most essential level." He tried his best to explain, eyes wide, hands in the air, then he faltered as he shook his head, "And I couldn't turn it off."

Guanyu's brows knotted together, his eyes looking crestfallen.

"Trust me, I tried." Haoran said, voice barely a murmur. "Every vice. Everything that was supposed to stop me from feeling. Everything that was supposed to remove the noise — it only made everything louder."

Kuo wanted to say something, anything, but could not, his mouth left half open instead, stunned.

Haoran remembered when the books he would drown himself in became stolen cigarettes. When the cigarettes became baijiu. When the bottles became pills. When the pills became needles and nothing but a numb dark hole in his little body.

"Then one day, I succeeded." He smiled, sadly. "It stopped."

Something rose in Michio's throat. He had bandaged those wounds himself.

"When I say Amah found me, I mean she found me." Haoran sighed, "Guanyu-ge is right, she really does hear and see and feel everything, too."

Amah heard me. He realized, heart full, remembering how he used to clasp his fingers together in rigorous prayer, begging to be heard. "And she heard me in that patch of silence. She found me where I wasn't anymore."

With closed lips and sorrowful eyes, Michio smiled, too.

"But that's because she knows how to listen." Haoran reflected, realizing, "I only know how to hear. But her kind of listening is focused and intentional. She's still teaching me how."

It's about what is important, my son. She'd said, on the first day, eyes on him as if he was the most important thing in the world. I will teach you what is important. Then your perfect eyes will see only with purpose.

But then his chest heavied, and he felt the knots form in his stomach as he explained — "But it's hard. So hard. I still hear it all. It's always there, begging for attention. Right now, there's still only one way to turn it off, really."

Then he looked up, fear flashing briefly across his face, the world a dull creature screaming in his ears, only growing louder and louder as he said —

"I'm scared that one day, I might."