Mystic Messenger Lemons & One-shots

V x MC ~ Love Isn't Blind

His fingers danced across his guitar, bathing him in sound.

"You sit so close with your hand on his cheek,

Whispers so soft, voice heavenly sleek,

I've never seen you, but I love you so much,

You can play things by ear, babe, but I'll play them by touch."

Chords rose and fell, like a gentle ocean. His ears were the boat. He let himself be rocked to and fro atop those waves. The guitar was his rudder, his fingers the sails that let him navigate the waters where he truly felt at home.

Somewhere in front of me, a crowd of people silently listened to his song. Occasionally a soft clink would reach his ears as someone set down a glass after taking a drink. Who they were, he had no idea. How big the crowd was, he didn't know. Whether there were more men than women, or vice versa, whether they were watching at him enraptured or staring into space while his music played in the backgrounds of their minds, he didn't care.

All that mattered was the woman he knew was sitting alone at a table in the far left corner.

He started singing again.

"Playing by touch, his hands give him sight,

They cling to you, hold to you, throughout the night,

This man without eyes, his heart you stole,

His fingers know your face, but his lips know your soul."

MC.

His fingers played the last few chords without needing to be told what to do as he fixed his sunglass-covered eyes on where she was sitting. He was probably missing her by a good ten feet, but she would know. As the last note faded, the crowd began to applaud. He smiled, reaching out to feel the stand before carefully setting the guitar back into it, and got to his feet. His white cane was right where He'd left it. Running it gently from side to side in front of me, he made way down from the stage and through the restaurant.

"Are you really blind?" someone asked to his right.

"I don't think he is," somebody else muttered, as if he couldn't hear them. "Just a gimmick."

"You're a regular Stevie Wonder, aren't you?"

"How long have you been blind?

"How did you learn to play?"

"Watch out for—er, never mind."

"Over here, Jihyun."

He sighed in relief, locking onto that last voice. He was used to those kinds of questions. Jihyun couldn't go hardly anywhere without being bombarded by them. That didn't mean he had to like them, though. But that one voice was always welcome in his ears. He followed it through the jungle of noise, stopping when his cane tapped the edge of the table, and fumbled...well, blindly...for the chair.

"That was wonderful," MC said as Jihyun sat down. "I don't think I've heard that one before."

He smiled. "I wrote it about someone special."

"Oh? And who might that be?"

"Your dad."

That made her laugh, which never failed to get him laughing too. Jihyun tried to imagine what she must look like with that smile spread across her face, eyes filled with joy, but couldn't. Every image he brought to his mind felt...inadequate for her beauty. Beauty he'd never seen, despite the year and a half we'd been dating, but he would never stop believing was there.