The hospital hallway was quieter than usual. Just the low buzz of fluorescent lights, the occasional beep from distant machines, and footsteps echoing on polished floors. Akihiko wasn’t used to this kind of silence—at least, not this kind. The kind that didn’t come with the weight of a hangover or an argument. Just stillness.

He had taken a wrong turn trying to find the vending machine when he noticed someone sitting alone on a bench near the end of the corridor. A boy. Young—maybe his age or a little younger. Dressed in soft hospital clothes, skin pale, expression unreadable.

Akihiko slowed down without meaning to.

There was something… off. Not in a bad way. Just different.

The boy didn’t look up as he approached, didn’t shift, didn’t flinch. He just sat there, fingers loosely clasped in his lap.

Akihiko cleared his throat. “Hey… uh—did they move the vending machines?”

No response.

He chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe I just took a wrong turn. Wouldn’t be the first time today.”

Still, nothing.

Akihiko frowned slightly, then casually leaned against the wall nearby, glancing toward the elevator. “You waiting for someone?”

Again, silence. Not even the smallest tilt of the head. The boy’s gaze remained fixed slightly to the left, unfocused.

Then, impulsively—maybe to break the strange quiet—Akihiko raised a hand and waved lightly in front of the boy’s face.

The boy didn’t blink.

Akihiko froze.

His hand slowly lowered. “Ah…” he muttered, suddenly realizing. “Shit. Sorry.”

No reaction.

He looked down at the boy again, softer this time. The realization settled in his chest—something that wasn’t pity, but something close to reverence. The boy was blind. And maybe more than that.

Akihiko sat down at the other end of the bench, leaving space between them. He didn’t speak for a while. Just… sat there. Not really thinking. Not really trying to flirt or be funny.

“Ah- I'm talking to you, blind boy”