Almost blind | Haobin

34| Breathless |34

Hao exhaled shakily, his breath forming fragile clouds in the frozen air as he sank onto the old wooden bench beneath the dim glow of a streetlamp. The weak, flickering light barely cut through the darkness, casting elongated, ghostly shadows on the untouched blanket of snow.

Around him, the world was silent. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the ink-black sky, landing on his coat, his hair, melting into icy droplets on his flushed skin. The cold gnawed at him relentlessly, seeping past the layers of his thick scarf and gloves that had long lost their warmth. His fingers, trembling and stiff, curled into fists as he buried his face into the frozen fabric of his scarf, but it did little to shield him from the cruel winter night.

He felt pathetic.

He had no idea how long he'd been wandering, only that it had been some time since he stormed out of Yujin's house, his pride wounded, his emotions in turmoil. The situation would have been laughable if it weren’t so utterly humiliating. He had sworn—sworn—that he knew the way home. He had walked these streets countless times before with Yujin. But under the thick veil of night and the deceptive sameness of snow-covered roads, his mind had betrayed him.

He had gone left when he should have gone right. He had retraced his steps, only to find himself even more lost. Every street looked unfamiliar, the houses alien, the roads endless. It was as if the city itself had conspired against him, shifting and twisting into an unrecognizable labyrinth designed to keep him trapped.

This was one of the worst side effects of his near-blindness—disorientation. A sick joke played by his own mind, making him question everything. He couldn't describe the feeling entirely, but it was as if the world itself was laughing at him.

One wrong turn, then another, then another.

Now he was here, in a place he had never seen before, utterly lost, utterly alone.

Pathetic.

Other kids his age were exploring different countries, navigating airports and foreign cities with ease, while he—he couldn't even find his way home in his own town. A child could recognize these streets with their eyes closed, and yet, here he was, sitting on a bench like a lost stray, shivering in the cold, drowning in the shame of his own helplessness.

His fingers dug into the frozen wood beneath him. He wanted to disappear, to sink into the earth and let the snow bury him whole. Calling his father for help had crossed his mind more than once, but when he finally reached for his phone, the screen remained black. Dead. The battery had given up, just like the rest of him.

Of course.

A bitter laugh bubbled up in his throat, but it died before it could escape. There was no one to hear it, anyway. The streets were lifeless, deserted, as if the whole world had been abandoned. No late-night walkers, no distant cars, no warm lights shining through the windows of nearby houses. Just him, stranded in a frozen silence.

He could already imagine Ricky losing his mind right now, pacing back and forth in worry, cursing himself for letting Hao go out.

He hated it. Hated the way he could practically feel the stress radiating from his father, the way Ricky was probably blaming himself, panicking because of him. He hated being a burden, hated that his existence caused so much worry. If he were normal, Ricky wouldn’t be this concerned. If he were normal, this wouldn’t even be a problem.

But he wasn’t normal.

And that was the worst part. The part that clawed at his chest, that whispered cruel things in the back of his mind.

People could tell him they loved him a thousand times, tell him he wasn’t a burden, tell him he was important, but it didn’t change the way he felt. Because the truth was, he needed help. Constantly. He was always being looked after, always requiring special attention. He was never just Hao. He was Hao with a condition. Hao who needed to be protected. Hao who had to be worried about.