Almost blind | Haobin

35| Glacias Hues | 35

Hanbin reached for the glass of water on the small table beside his bed, his fingers trembling slightly as he grasped it. The cool liquid slid down his throat, sharp and refreshing, cutting through the haze in his mind like a blade slicing through fog. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the lingering traces of his dream.

Even now, he could feel Zhanghao's touch seared into his skin, like a phantom sensation that sent shivers crawling down his spine. The dream had been nothing more than a fragmented flashback-an echo from the past, from a time when they were young, untouched by the cruel hands of fate. A time when laughter had come easily, when they hadn't known how tragically their friendship would unravel.

It had been years since he last had dreams like this. For the longest time, they had ceased, buried beneath layers of new memories, distractions, and the passage of time. But now... now they were clawing their way back to the surface, like a long-forgotten melody forcing itself into his thoughts.

His body felt heavy as he pushed the covers away and stood up, running a hand through his tousled hair. It was late-too late. The entire house was asleep, cloaked in silence, save for the rhythmic ticking of the hallway clock and the faint creak of the floor beneath his bare feet.

And then he heard some strange sound.

A sound. Soft, almost imperceptible, coming from another room.

A chill ran down his spine, his pulse quickening. His head snapped toward the source of the noise, instinct driving him to listen. It was coming from Hao's room.

Hanbin hesitated. He couldn't quite place what he was hearing. It wasn't loud enough to be a struggle, yet not soft enough to be dismissed as a simple toss in bed. His brows furrowed as curiosity wrapped its fingers around his chest, pulling him forward.

Light seeped from the small gap beneath Hao's door, a thin golden sliver cutting through the darkness of the hallway.

He knew he should turn back, should mind his own business. But he didn't.

Instead, he pressed his ear against the wooden surface, feeling the faint vibrations as another sound reached him. Something falling. Then a quiet curse.

Hanbin's grip tightened on the doorknob. His hesitation lasted only a breath before curiosity won over reason, and he pushed the door open.

"You're making sounds as if you were-"

His sentence died on his lips the moment his gaze landed on the sight before him.

Hao wasn't in bed like he should have been at this hour. He was sitting on a chair, reaching for a fallen paintbrush that had slipped from his stained fingers. The room was illuminated by the soft glow of a desk lamp, casting warm hues across the mess of paint tubes, canvases, and unfinished work scattered around him.

But that wasn't what made Hanbin stop in his tracks.

It was Hao himself.

His clothes were smeared with paint, splashes of color staining his hands, arms, and even his face. Stray strokes of blue and crimson traced the curve of his cheekbone, blending into the dim light. But beyond the mess, beyond the artistic chaos, there was something else.

Tears.

Hao's wide, startled eyes met Hanbin's, his lips slightly parted in shock. He hadn't expected anyone to walk in on him like this.

Hanbin swallowed. His voice, when he finally spoke, was softer this time.

"Hao... are you crying?"

The air between them grew thick with something unspoken. An uncomfortable intimacy. A moment neither of them had expected nor knew how to navigate.