love letters in braille ✔️

"Yeah, him," he says patiently, trying very hard to suppress a sigh. Janet has always been a little, well, self-centered. It wouldn't be surprising if a zombie apocalypse broke out and she began complaining about getting dirt on her new shoes. "You served him, right?"

"I did. Why? You think he's cute?" Finally, something seems to have caught her interest. She looks up from her phone, mustering Jason. He manages not to squirm under her scrutinizing gaze. "I didn't know he was your type."

Jason ignores her. "Is he blind?"

"What? Hell if I know!" she says, sounding suddenly offended. Jason sighs.

"Please, Janet."

"Now that I think about it, he was the only boy I've met who didn't stare at my boobs - so either he's gay, or blind, or both," she states, looking rather befuddled by the thought that someone might not find her attractive. Jason keeps himself from grinning because finally, he's got what he wanted to know.

"I'll take fifteen minutes off, okay?" Without waiting for a reply, Jason swings the dirty towel back over his shoulder, heading out the swing door and towards the table in the corner. Janet protests faintly in the background before burying herself in her text messages again.

The boy doesn't look up until Jason is standing right in front of him, a movement like he is sensing Jason's presence more than anything else. His eyes still stare into nothing.

"Hello?" he asks, tentative. His voice is reluctant and carefully guarded, but not unfriendly.

"Hi," Jason says a little too casually, "Mind if I sit with you?"

"Um... sure, go ahead," the boy says, inclining his head towards the chair opposite of him. Suddenly nervous, Jason takes a seat. The chair is hard wood and rickety legs beneath him, and he has nowhere to wipe his sweaty hands. It feels like he is violating every rule in the book right now.

"My name is Jason," he finally says.

"Oscar," the boy replies. "Oscar DiLaurentis."

"Hold up... DiLaurentis? Is Ellen your sister?" Jason asks, surprised. He recalls faintly the face of a girl, a Sophomore, with honey-colored skin and black hair that match Oscar's.

Oscar smiles very faintly. "Of course you'd know her. You're the Jason, aren't you? Jason Pratt. She talks about you all day. Jason this, Jason that."

Embarrassed, Jason can feel himself blush. "Yeah, that'd be me," he says quietly, looking down at his lap. He remembers a lunch conversation about Ellen's brother, homeschooled due to a condition. He also remembers the shame and guilt in her eyes. Silence ensues, but before it can kill any further conversation between them, Jason speaks up again. "Well, Oscar, what are you working on?"

At this, Oscar looks surprised. Like he isn't used to people showing any interest in him. "Just some ... story. It's nothing, really."

And Jason is back in the game. Relieved, he leans foreward, resting his elbows on the tabletop. "Some story, huh? That's perfect, because I thought ... I thought maybe you'd like to read something, with me?"

Oscar blinks. Once, twice. "I'm blind, you know."

It doesn't sound condescending, nor angry. Just like he's stating a simple fact. Jason smiles, relieved. "I know. I thought .... I thought I could read it out loud, for you. And then you read yours. A story for a story."

"A story for a story," Oscar muses, tasting the words, rolling them across his tongue once, twice. Then he nods. "Go ahead. I'm listening,"

Jason can feel his heart thundering in his ears, his wrists, at the bottom of his throat. But he folds open the book to the page he marked earlier and reads: