chapter one

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a/n: it kinda absolutely breaks me heart that rewriting this means losing the comments but- sacrifices must be made😩✋

san wooyoung

09.06.17

wooyoung opens and closes his eyes a few times in attempt to busy his boredom, switching between the empty blackness and dark nothingness he is accustomed to. opening them makes no difference, so he isn't sure why he bothers sometimes- perhaps it's the pointless hope he'll one day open them and see again. ridiculous, he knows.

he wasn't born blind; wooyoung remembers the blueness of the sky and wild array of colours he'd taken for granted, the sparkle in people's eyes and the smiles on their faces. gradually, it had all faded with time, with no tangible explanation. he's just unlucky. and entirely, absolutely, wholly, blind.

as everyone indulges to keep reminding him. he hates the sympathy; helplessness is certainly not one of his traits. wooyoung had known a life of colour and brightness, but now knew a heightened life in other areas. sounds, tastes, smells, intuition and physical contact had all grown in their depth and power.

he sighs softly, only half listening to the conversing between his new headteacher and guardian. having refused to attend some sort of special school, wooyoung had convinced his aunt to find a way for him to return to a regular high school. he just wants to feel normal, and experience normal teenage things. is that too much to ask?

less than a year away from his eighteenth birthday, there isn't even much time for that.he really wants to make the most of it, because so far he hasn't been living. not the way they do in books and movies, at least.

"as you know," he zones in on the exchange regarding him as it's centre once more. "our school is abnormal only in the regard we extend teaching past age eighteen, and we have a specialized program for students who may need more support."

wooyoung scoffs in response, and can almost feel the sidelong glance his aunt gives him. it doesn't burn - her gaze never does - just tickles with concern. "of course," the head rushes hastily, reassuring them, "it's barely different from everyone else's experience here. we won't treat you any differently."

except, they will. they always do. wooyoung can't avoid it.

he strokes the cane lying atop his lap tenderly like one might stroke a small cat, revisiting the smooth lines he knows so well. it's become somewhat of a habit. "you can't guarantee my classmates will." wooyoung observes matter of factly. he doesn't mean it accusingly, he's not even that concerned about it; he's used to it. he's just warning them.

he hears his aunt shuffle in her seat, presumably turning to look at him. "if you were worried about that-" she begins, but wooyoung shakes his head. a warmth of appreciation blooms in his chest for her. she cares more than his parents have ever seemed to.

"i'm not worried." he states honestly. "we're humans. judgement is in our nature; it's to be expected. i'll go in aware of the fact everyone is silently giving their two cents in what they think of me and not be phased by the whispers."

a brief silence follows, no one bothering to dispel the truth he spoke. after a moment, "we'll do our best to make you feel comfortable here." the teacher who wooyoung has been trying to create a profile for based on his voice replies in turn. "and we look forward to having you in our school."

another habit of his- trying to imagine people's faces based on nothing but their voice. he imagines the man to perhaps adorn the pathetic wisp of a mustache above his possibly thin lips, and to have a kind, round face that always appeared slightly red despite the weather. wooyoung enjoys making up what he supposes people to look like, for nothing more than a distraction and time-killer.

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