"How are you feeling?" The older woman with blonde hair and round glasses asked softly, her voice like the delicate touch of a breeze that barely disturbed the stillness of the room. She adjusted her skirt with a practiced motion and settled into the chair beside Hao, her eyes, magnified behind her lenses, seeming to search deep into his soul, as though she could untangle the web of his thoughts with a single glance.
Hao hummed in response, a low, hesitant note that barely disturbed the sterile silence of the room. His fingers fidgeted restlessly, intertwining and untangling like leaves caught in the wind, a nervous dance that spoke volumes of the storm raging inside him. He pushed his black glasses up the bridge of his nose, the cool metal an uninvited guest, its constant presence a reminder of everything he couldn't escape.
His gaze stayed fixed on the floor, as though the ground itself could offer him solace or perhaps hide him away from the world. He avoided the eyes of everyone in the room-his father, sitting nearby with an air of quiet encouragement, and the ophthalmologist, who patiently observed, her sharp focus cutting through the haze of Hao's discomfort. The glasses on his face felt like an ill-fitting mask, warping not just his vision but distorting his entire sense of self. He felt bad, as though the person he saw in the mirror was a stranger, wearing the skin of someone he once knew.
Ugly. Even though his father reassured him with gentle words, they fell on deaf ears, slipping off the invisible wall Hao had built around himself.
"Good," Hao finally mumbled, his voice flat, drained of any emotion, like a lifeless leaf floating on a stagnant pond. The word hung in the air, heavy and unconvincing. His tone made it clear he wanted the conversation to end before it even began, to retreat back into the silence that had become his refuge. The woman seemed to sense this, as if her own breath had caught in the cold draft of his unwillingness. She sighed softly, her gaze shifting to the blackboard on the wall ahead.
"Alright, Hao. On the blackboard, there are some letters. I want you to read them," she instructed, her voice gentle but firm, the kind of calm authority that held no room for protest. She pointed toward the board with a steady hand, her fingers drawing an invisible line in the air.
Hao dragged his gaze upward reluctantly, his eyes locking onto the blackboard with the kind of weariness one might reserve for an unwanted task.
Eleven lines stretched across the board, each shrinking into smaller, more distant shapes, as though the letters themselves were pulling away, retreating into the fog of his blurred vision. He bit his lip, the familiar sting of self-consciousness rising in his chest. He put his glasses down, squinted, trying to force the blurred shapes into something comprehensible, as if sheer willpower could make them real.
"C... I..." he began, his voice a soft, hesitant ripple in the otherwise quiet room. The first line was clear enough, the letters sharp and well-defined, like ships on the horizon. He moved to the second line, then the third, where the shapes began to dissolve into nothingness, like sand slipping through his fingers. "E," he said, his voice faltering, softening, as he tried to make sense of the jumble before him. He shook his head, frustration creasing his brow, a storm of helplessness brewing inside him.
"I can't see more," he whispered, the words heavy with defeat. It was as if they carried the weight of all the times he'd failed to grasp what was just out of reach, the endless frustration of an ever-fading world.
"Alright," she replied, her voice steady, as though she'd anticipated this moment. She jotted something down on her keyboard with a few quick, precise strokes, her expression unreadable, as though she were merely observing a routine. "Put your glasses on and try again."
Hao obeyed without hesitation, slipping the glasses back on, the cool metal an attempt to force clarity back into the chaos of his vision. Adjusting his glasses once more, as if the simple act of moving them could make the world clearer. The world snapped back into focus-or it should have.
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Almost blind | Haobin
FanfictionIn this world full of darkness and disgusting people, he was the one who shone the brightest. He was like a work of art - something that made people smile the moment they saw it, something Hao was proud to have in his life. Just like art. Hao found...