BLIND (A Ziall Fanfic/BoyxBoy)

Chapter 2

The squeaking of the wheelchair’s wheels echoed through the hallways of the hospital.

 

 

I hated staying in this hellhole as much as I hated the fact that my eyes were bandaged.

 

 

It felt like the more I have these patches on my eyes, the more life punches me with its painful reality.

 

 

That I probably can’t see again.

 

 

Ever.

 

 

Blind.

 

 

That’s me now.

 

 

Niall James Horan no more.

 

 

But a pathetic sightless teenage schoolboy.

 

 

And the worst part was, nobody even came to visit me.

 

 

Only the doctors, nurses and other patients were my source of interaction.

 

 

But that too fails to make me feel less hopeless.

 

 

I know the school knows about my current situation.

 

 

One of the nurses even said that they’re willing to pay some of my hospital bills.

 

 

I was glad they did that because honestly I don’t know how to pay all of this shit since I have no one.

 

 

You see, my parents died when I was five so my brother Greg and I lived together since then.

 

 

My brother has been searching for decent jobs ever since and just got hired last year. He now works as a flight attendant so he wasn’t always at home.

 

 

I know he earns enough but half of his salary goes to the deptcollection agency which was the source of our survival after our parents died.

 

 

We barely even have enough for my tuition.

 

 

But he always tells me to never give a fuck about expenses and money coz no matter what, he’ll be there.

 

 

That’s what brothers do.

 

 

I gave the nurses his contact numbers and I was hoping he would come by and say hi.

 

 

But it’s been almost two weeks.

 

 

And still I have no Greg beside me asking me if I was alright and giving no shit about the bills.

 

 

My throat felt tight and tears warned to flow free from my damaged eyes as I thought how alone I was.

 

 

Money couldn’t compare to what a brother, a classmate, a someone who cares could give me right now.

 

 

Have I done something?

 

 

Have I done something that bad to deserve this?

 

 

Was being gay that repulsive and unforgivable that I have to be blind for being one?

 

 

How could someone do this to me?

 

 

What have I done to them?

 

 

I asked myself that a billion times since the accident.

 

 

And I’ve no one to assure me I was wrong.

 

 

That it was all an accident.

 

 

That soon I’ll have my sight back.

 

 

And that being who I am, what I am, have nothing to do with the punishment I am suffering.

 

 

But like the medic’s words which once assured me, my suffering never came to a full-stop.

 

 

And it hurts.

 

 

It does.