The doctor activates the implant.
And for the first time in my life, I hear.
It's not much, just a... a... 'thrum' from somewhere in the room.  I wasn't expecting some grand invitation to the real world now that I could hear, but this is underwhelming and not at all what I was wanting nor expecting.
I sign the doctor before he can say anything, informing him that the implant is working and that I'd like to be left alone for a little bit.
He says something without signing back... I can hear the sounds he makes but to me they're meaningless... and then he complies with my request.  Tactless old fart.  He had to have been insulting me because he knows perfectly fucking well that I can't understand him if he refuses to sign. He must think I'm stupid for asking for this in the first place, but my entire life so far has been predicated on my deafness and I'm Goddamned sick of the problems it's caused.
I thought I was strong enough to deal with it.  I couldn't have been more wrong if I had tried.
I was disappointed when I was outright told that the implant wouldn't change anything in the short term, but I should have known better than to turn to wishful thinking and dreams over reality.  I'm a Hakamichi, though, and I plan for the long-term.  Always have.  Always will.  The implant will be useless for a good few years, but there's a small glimmer of hope in my heart that I'll be able to understand rudimentary speech further down the line.
I wait until I think the doctor's completely gone before I let my real feelings bubble to the surface.
Inwardly I sigh.  Nobody I care about is going to appear out of thin air and keep me company, so there's no use stalling.
I begin to say... no, vocalize... something.
"Aah...Mnn."
My own voice grates on me and my vocal cords feel gruff.  I didn't expect perfection, but neither did I think that I'd sound *harsh*.  Fuck.  This is going to be harder than I thought.
I sit undisturbed for what seems like hours, feeling out my own voice.  I know I shouldn't overexert my throat, but this is something I desparately *need*.  This is the reason I'm here.
The doctor still hasn't come back.  He's probably forgotten about me and is too wrapped up in his own business, so I don't concern myself with it too much.
There's a deep sense of regret welling within me and I can't immediately place why.  I don't know if I like hearing.  It's a new layer to my life, but I don't understand it yet.  I'll take that as it comes.
The more pressing issue is that I'm... I'm alone.  There's nobody here to share this moment with.
Hideaki barely cares about me.  I'm sure Dad's the same way, but what does it matter?  Neither of them really understand and neither of them will take time out of their life to come see me.
I'm willing to leave it at a sense of dissatisfaction and go on with my life, but catching sight of that small cat doll dangling outside of my pack dashes those plans.
The brief, content feeling from remembering happier times isn't enough to make up for what I know is coming next, and by the time I smile in spite of myself...
Any happiness I gained from seeing the doll is crushed and beaten to death by overwhelming sorrow and guilt.  My breath escapes me.
I'll never see Misha or Hisao again, and the full implication of that sinks in for the very first time since Hisao left me on those steps.
I pushed them all away from me and I'll never have the option of fixing it.  I wanted Hisao and Misha here with me from the bottom of my heart... and I fucked that up so badly that I'll never get them back.
A sick, churning feeling in my stomach accentuates the guilt I'm feeling and a burning sting tears at my eyes.  This was all my fault, all of it, and that nugget of realization makes me feel so nauseous that I almost want to vomit.
Before I can even hope to collect myself my resolve snaps and I break down crying bitter, bitter tears, my body heaving with each sob.  The sound I'm making right now is... it's pathetic and just hearing it claws at my heart.
My God, what have I done?  I've ruined my own life.