Almost blind | Haobin

10| opposites attract |10

It was Taerae who found Hao in that devastating state. The bathroom door had felt like an unyielding barrier between them, his knocking growing more frantic with each passing second of silence. At first, he thought his friend was just taking longer than usual, but as the minutes stretched unbearably thin, a shadow of dread began to grow, clawing its way up his chest. When there was still no answer, fear took hold of him-a suffocating, icy grip that squeezed the air from his lungs.

Finally, Taerae forced the door open, and the sight before him froze him in place. Hao lay on the cold bathroom floor, motionless-a fragile doll discarded and forgotten. For a moment, the world stopped. All Taerae could hear was the pounding of his heart, loud and erratic, as if trying to outpace the terror that consumed him.

The sight hurled him into the dark recesses of his own memories. He saw himself in Hao's place, his own despair reflected back at him like a cruel echo. He remembered how it felt to stand at the edge, staring into an abyss so deep it seemed endless, suffocating under the weight of hopelessness. He remembered the paralyzing fear, the desperation to escape a life that felt more like a sentence than a gift.

Taerae dropped to his knees, shaking. Hao had been struggling for so long-his declining health, the suffocating attention from Dr. Julson, and the venom of others' judgments had all piled onto him like stones, crushing him little by little. Taerae had tried to be his anchor, believing that their shared pain, their shared fight, would be enough. They had been each other's lifelines, clinging to the hope that together they could leave this sterile prison of a hospital and find freedom, happiness-something worth living for.

But now, everything was falling apart. Hao's fragile body lay before him, and with it, Taerae's fragile dream crumbled into ash. His mind raced with panic, his heart breaking into a thousand jagged pieces.

"Don't do this to me, Hao," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Please... don't leave me here alone."

When the doctors arrived, it was as if Taerae had been wrenched from a nightmare, only to be thrown into a harsher reality. They worked quickly, their faces grim, their movements urgent. Hao was taken to the emergency hospital across the street, leaving Taerae behind, helpless and alone. The rules confined him to his room at this late hour, shackling him with the unbearable weight of his own uselessness. Every second that passed without news felt like an eternity, each tick of the clock a fresh stab to his chest.

But Taerae's anguish was a flicker compared to the inferno that consumed Ricky when he got the call. The voice on the other end was calm, clinical, but the words were like a dagger to his heart: his son had attempted suicide.

It felt like the world had collapsed for the third time in his life. The first time had been the accident that stole so much from them. The second was the day he lost his husband, the love of his life. And now this-this was the final blow, a cruel twist of fate that left him gasping for air.

He tried to get to the hospital, but his car refused to start. As desperation clawed at his throat, he was forced to call Gyuvin, hating himself for asking for help but having no other choice. His voice trembled as he explained the situation, and Gyuvin, ever the dependable one, agreed without hesitation.

When Gyuvin arrived, Ricky could barely muster a word of gratitude. His mind was a storm, a swirling vortex of guilt, fear, and self-loathing. He sat in the passenger seat, his hands trembling in his lap, staring out the window but seeing nothing. His thoughts were consumed by Hao-his boy, his everything-and the gnawing fear that he might lose him.

Upon reaching the hospital, Ricky moved like a man possessed, his legs carrying him forward on instinct alone. Gyuvin had to grab his shoulders to stop him, his voice firm but gentle.