Almost blind | Haobin

45| Where Fireworks Begin |45

"Table 24, Hao!" Hanbin's voice rang loud and clear through the echoing community hall, cutting through the hum of chatter and clinking glasses. He balanced two trays, one in each hand, each crowded with colorful drinks, while another small plate wobbled precariously on top of his head like a spinning coin defying gravity.

A few meters away, Hao stood on the same serving line, equally burdened with trays, though far less daring. He watched Hanbin's antics with a raised brow, lips twitching in disbelief. "Got it!" he shouted back, careful to keep his own trays steady as he weaved cautiously through the crowd.

It was utterly ridiculous.

The celebration was in full swing-the Lunar New Year in Canada, and Matthew, ever the social butterfly, had insisted they join the festivities at the bustling community center in Vancouver. A massive three-story building filled with laughter, music, and a sea of people from every generation. Children danced, elders clapped along to a band strumming tunes in the background, and vibrant lights shimmered off festive decorations hanging like falling stars from the ceiling.

Hao had never been to something like this before. The sheer energy of the crowd was overwhelming, intoxicating, and yet... a little terrifying. He was both enchanted and out of place, like a single snowflake in a midsummer breeze.

Thanks to Matthew's popularity-and big mouth-it didn't take long before he was recruited to help serve drinks and snacks. And naturally, if Matthew was helping, that meant Hanbin and Hao were drafted too.

So here Hao was, balancing trays like spinning plates in a circus act, dodging elbows and giggling children, trying desperately not to spill sweet drinks on his black shirt or the tight jeans he and Hanbin had picked out together before their trip to Canada. His jacket had long since been abandoned in the kitchen, heat radiating from the crowd and his own non-stop pacing. He was sweating, flushed, and barely clinging to sanity.

The hours blurred together, a loop of table numbers, orders, and fleeting glances at Hanbin whenever their paths crossed amid the chaos. It wasn't until the clock neared 11 pm.-an hour before midnight and the grand fireworks-that a wave of mercy passed over them, and someone else took over serving duties.

Hao found Hanbin leaning casually against the stair railing, strands of hair damp with sweat, his chest rising with each breath. He looked up as Hao approached, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"We should hide," Hanbin said, eyes darting like a thief's. "Before my dad finds us and conscripts us again."

"Hanbin, we're not even allowed upstairs," Hao whispered as Hanbin grabbed his hand without hesitation and began pulling him toward the darkened stairwell. "No one will find out." Hanbin replied, his grin widening, his fingers warm and firm around Hao's.

They climbed together, heartbeats echoing louder than footsteps in the dim stairwell. The second floor was deserted, cloaked in shadows. The muffled sounds of celebration drifted up from below like the heartbeat of a sleeping giant. Still holding hands, they ascended to the third floor, where tall windows bathed the hallway in moonlight.

Hanbin led him to the balcony. When they stepped outside, a gust of wind greeted them like a slap-sharp and clean and full of winter's breath. Hao inhaled deeply, feeling the night press against his skin, clearing away the warmth and noise.

"I would honestly rather jump from this height than go serve drinks again," Hao muttered with a breathless laugh as they leaned on the railing. Hanbin chuckled beside him. "You'd make a very dramatic bartender."

For a moment, they said nothing. Just stood there, shoulder to shoulder, listening to the wind sing through the buildings.

"Is your hand okay?" Hao asked, his voice quieter now, more intimate. He glanced at Hanbin, who was gazing out over the city, eyes softened by fatigue and something more delicate.