Almost blind | Haobin

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From winter to summer - the world had changed with the swiftness of a single blink. As if the earth had turned its face overnight, shaking off its snowy veil and bursting into flame. The snow that once swallowed the streets in silence had long since melted, leaving behind only the scorched pavement and the scent of sunburnt skin. The heat clung to people's backs like an unwanted ghost and already, no one seemed to remember that something as gentle as winter had ever existed.

"Look how good he is at it," Hao mumbled under his breath, his voice barely louder than the dribble of the basketball echoing through the court. His gaze was fixed on Hanbin, who was darting across the court with effortless grace, his movements fluid and focused, as if he belonged nowhere else but there. Hao was slouched on the stands, trying and failing not to appear too obvious. Beside him sat Kuanjui, legs elegantly crossed, filing his nails into perfect daggers like he was preparing for war. He glanced at the court every few seconds but honestly, it was clear he hadn't come for the game - only because Hao had begged him to, with the kind of persistence that felt like a small crisis.

"I kind of miss the time when we were allowed to say mean things about him," Kuanjui said flatly, clicking his tongue as he blew the dust from his nail file. His voice was lined with irritation - not with Hanbin, but with Hao's expression. "You're staring like a kicked puppy trying to find its owner. It's tragic, really."

Hao didn't flinch. "You're being dramatic."

Kuanjui shot him a look that could cut glass.

"I told Hanbin earlier that it's hard to see him from the stands when he's playing," Hao continued, voice softening slightly. "And guess what he did?"

"Let me guess," Kuanjui drawled, dragging out the words with a theatrical sigh. "Wrapped a pink bow around his wrist so you wouldn't lose sight of him? Yeah, yeah, I know. You've repeated that story so many times I hear it in my sleep."

Hao's mouth twitched, somewhere between a smile and a grimace. "I mean seriously," Kuanjui went on, narrowing his eyes. "Are you two dating? Because I'm genuinely confused. That Yujin guy is still orbiting around you like a desperate planet and now you're chasing after Hanbin like you've never even been kissed."

"We're not dating," Hao said too quickly, pressing his lips into a line so thin it could've sliced his own pride. "What would that even be like? We're practically siblings."

"Oh, shut up," Kuanjui laughed, shaking his head. "Siblings my ass. The way you're watching him - you look like you're one skipped heartbeat away from writing his name in the stars. You're not his brother, and you damn well know it."

"It's not that easy," Hao muttered, voice low now - more for himself than for Kuanjui. It wasn't defensive. It was... tired.

Kuanjui didn't reply this time. He simply raised a single, perfectly sculpted brow and returned to his nails like the conversation had exhausted him. And maybe it had. Or maybe he just knew that Hao needed silence more than sass for once.

It didnt really take long and Hao suddenly stood. His eyes had snapped back to the court, and the moment the whistle blew to signal the end of the game, he was already up on his feet like someone had tugged an invisible string in his chest. Kuanjui didn't even look up. "Godspeed, Romeo," he muttered dryly, flipping his nail file into his bag with a snap and crossing his arms as he settled in for the emotional disaster that was about to unfold. "Let's see how fast we crash and burn today."

Hao ignored him.

The court was still humming with energy - teammates exchanging lazy high-fives, sweat pooling on foreheads, and the ball bouncing alone in the corner like it hadn't been the center of attention minutes ago. But Hao saw only one person: Hanbin, bathed in the glow of late sun, his jersey clinging to his back like a second skin, hair damp and curling slightly at the nape.