Almost blind | Haobin

43| He Said "Adore" |43

"Are you awake?" The door slammed open with a thud that echoed like a gunshot through the stillness of the morning. Hanbin stood in the doorway like a whirlwind in human form, his chest heaving slightly, brows furrowed in quiet alarm.

Inside the room, Hao sat upright on the edge of his bed, still in his crumpled pajamas, bathed in the cold morning light seeping through the curtains. The room smelled faintly of lavender fabric softener and unresolved tension. His phone lay in front of him on the bedsheets, buzzing like an angry insect, over and over, vibrating with insistence.

That made Hanbin's eyes narrow, one brow rising in silent inquiry. Hao sighed. "Guess," he muttered, not even needing to look at the screen again. His voice was low, hollow, almost defeated.

Hanbin crossed the room in two strides, sitting down beside him. "Yujin?" He guessed immediately. Hao hesitated, then gave a small nod. On the locked screen were missed calls, message previews - a digital storm begging for attention.

"I don't even know if I should answer," Hao said, his fingers nervously brushing over his thigh. "He didn't really do anything wrong, I just...."

But Hanbin's gaze hardened, and he cut him off with quiet precision. "If you don't want to talk to him, Hao, that is enough. He did something wrong the moment he made you feel like this." His voice was calm, but his eyes burned with protective intensity. "You don't owe him peace at the expense of your own."

He reached out gently and placed a hand on Hao's chest - over his heart, where the pain quietly pulsed like a second heartbeat. "Right here," Hanbin whispered, "this is where you listen first. If it aches when you think of him, if it sinks instead of lifts, then don't force yourself into anything. Not out of guilt. Not out of habit."

Hao looked down at the hand on his chest and bit his lip. "Are you Shakespeare by any chance?" He tried to joke, but then he just sighed and shook his head. "I know," he murmured. "But... he's probably worried. And I-"

"Let him be worried," Hanbin interrupted again, firmer this time. "Can I?" He gestured toward the phone, his eyes asking before his hand did.

Hao hesitated. There was a war in his chest: one part of him screaming to stay polite, stay kind, stay reachable. But the other part - the part that felt seen with Hanbin - was tired. Just so tired.

He unlocked the phone and passed it over.

Hanbin didn't hesitate. He tapped through a few settings, and in seconds, Yujin's number was muted. "He can still scream into the void if he wants," Hanbin said, handing the phone back, "but you won't hear it anymore. Trust me, give it time, and he'll wear himself out."

Hao stared at the screen like it was a foreign object. Silence. Blessed silence. A strange mixture of relief and guilt rose up in him, twisting together like storm clouds and sunlight. "Thank you," he said quietly. It didn't feel like enough.

Hanbin gave him a soft, rare smile - the kind that made Hao's heart trip over itself. Then, just as quickly, he stood up and clapped his hands together. "Now, get dressed. You've got ten minutes to come downstairs for breakfast. After that, we're going out."

Hao blinked. "Out?"

"Yup," Hanbin said, already halfway to the door. "Keeho invited us. Apparently, he's running a carnival."

Hao stood up, ready to grab some fresh clothes, when he suddenly froze mid-step. His eyes snapped to Hanbin, blinking again-this time more rapidly, as if trying to reset reality. "Wait, what? Keeho owns a carnival?!"

Hanbin chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck like even he couldn't quite believe it. "Right? It's something he does during the winter break. He rents out the space, sets up a bunch of market stalls, attractions, all that. Ice skating, food, games, even bumper cars, I think. It's kinda crazy. I found out today as well."