Heyooooo! Update time!😚 I don't wanna rant today. Me sad.😞 *sad potato roll on the floor*😞

Anyway, pay attention to this chapter for it will give you a glimpse of Timmy's life so far.😚 Also, I'm gonna be busy till next Tuesday, so, no update till then.😶

But my IG updates will keep pouring in!😆

Now, my panda hugsies to-
IamSam830 and kittycatsc for making two beautiful covers for the last chapter of this story. It's on their IG!😍 And I'll repost them soon!😚

And do you guys know what you did?😤 You inspired me so much with your support and encouragement that I'm planning big for this story.😒😒 You all need to be smothered by my panda tummy!😒

Have you guys heard 'Colours' by One Republic? It might remind you of these two boys!😍

Did I say I wouldn't rant? Oh, well....ˊ▽ˋ

Hope you enjoy the read!

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Chapter-5

They chose the lake side to spend the rest of the evening. Timmy loved the smell of water. It did not require for him to see. To him water was liquid emotions. Hence, Johnny brought them here.

Parking the car at a desolate corner, they propped up on the bonnet of the car. Timmy had refused his offer when Johnny asked him if he needed help with the lift. After closing the door on his side, Timmy began to trail his palm against the sleek metal body of the vehicle, and for once Johnny was able to see his expression as he had coaxed him to leave his shades behind. Timmy’s head was lowered a little, eyes squeezed shut, the pupils moving rapidly underneath the lids. He slowly felt up the entire front of the car, trying to figure out how the design was. When done, he turned to his left uncertainly and Johnny touched his elbow to let him know where he was, not saying anything aloud to give Timmy the modesty of getting things on his own.

“Oh, uh, do you want me to sit facing ahead or sideways?” He was hesitant for some reason, lips curved into a half smile that looked uncertain.

“Ahead. The lake is just in front of us, in our direct line of sight-“ Johnny stopped himself the moment that word escaped him, however, Timmy still caught on it and laughed.

“You know you can say the word in front of me! It’s not a taboo or a ‘S-word’!”

Embarrassed for being so obvious Johnny raised his chin and sniffed haughtily, “I know it isn’t. Now, get up, chop chop.”

It took a bit of manoeuvring but Timmy got up successfully and they sat down facing the vast expanse of the still, calm water. Soft breeze ruffling their hair, shirts, souls.

“I have never done this before.” Timmy broke the silence after a long quiet moment.

“Done what? Sitting on a bonnet?”

“Yes,” Timmy smiled again. He smiled a lot, and the more he did the more Johnny wanted to see it.

“Why? Don’t your friends do this kind of stuff? It’s fun, though.”

Running his finger through his windswept wild hair Timmy chuckled, staring unblinking, as if assimilating with the wide open nature in front. “I don’t......have friends.” He spoke slowly, as if ashamed of this fact. “I have acquaintances, of course but not sure if I can call them friends. We don’t do things I hear friends do together.”

Chin propped against the arms that held his bunched up knees, Johnny looked at Timmy’s side profile. He was beautiful. Physically he was what people called aesthetically pleasing but his beauty surpassed this physicality. It was his persona, serene yet sombre, calm with an undercurrent of playfulness, gentle but firm where it was needed. These qualities made him beautiful to Johnny. Not just a pretty face but a complete soul. How come such a person did not have friends?

“Why?”He asked, “Why don’t you have friends?”

Timmy remained thoughtful for a few moments before he tilted his face up at the sky and took a deep breath, eyes closed.

When he turned Johnny’s way the smile was in place again.

“This world revolves around speed, Johnny. Everything, everyone is rushing here. Life means speed and it doesn’t stop for anyone. People like us, who have to take time doing even the most prosaic things like checking the time or calling someone, we do not fit in this world. Nobody stops for us and we lag behind more and more. The distance grows without any hope for us to catch up ever. Now, tell me who would want to befriend us? Would you have a friend who takes twice the time getting into the car rather than someone who can keep up with you?”

It was more of a rhetorical question but was that a sliver of hope that flitted across Timmy’s face? Johnny recalled all those numerous times when he had yelled at people to hurry up, to quicken things. At work, at the traffic signals, at friends, family, girlfriends, colleagues. He was always in a hurry, always insisting people to rush. So, was he not being a hypocrite when he wanted to find and strangle all those people who did not give Timmy time, who left him behind and moved on? Was he any different than them? Would he wait for Timmy? Could he?

Taking the silence as rejection, Timmy’s face dimmed momentarily but of course, he covered it with that damned smile of his and said, “Now you know why I don’t have-“

“What if I want to be your friend? Not just an acquaintance, but a friend?”

With rapid blinks the pupils began to flicker again. “You will regret it.”

“Or maybe I won’t.”

“I’m not a good company. Boring, really.”

“Maybe I want a boring friend.”

“You should not take your decisions based on ‘maybes.’”

“And you should not push away those who really want to be your friend,” Johnny shot back and stretched his legs, looking up to see the sky preparing to welcome the dusk, “In fact, I thought we were already friends but now that I know it was my misconception, I’m asking you, will you consider my friendship?”

Johnny followed the nervous gulp that Timmy took. Since when did he notice other dudes’ Adam’s apple bob?

“Will this friendship include of you disrupting my life uninvited?”

A huge grin bloomed all over Johnny’s face, “You bet!”

“Then nope. I decline the offer,” Timmy replied very seriously, although the amusement seeped through the corner of his lips.

Johnny dragged his bum to get closer to Timmy and hugged his shoulder with one arm, “We’re gonna be besties and have pink fluffy pajama parties, okay?”

“I never regretted anything the way I regret that phone call.”

After some more snickering on Johnny’s part and head shaking on Timmy’s, they lied down on the bonnet.

“Um, I won’t fall down, would I?” Came Timmy’s tentative question.

“Want me to hold you?” Johnny chirped up, all set to annoy the man more.

“No!” Timmy yelped and tried to swat at Johnny’s approaching hand, “Stay where you are. Don’t come near!”

“Hehe.”

And they stayed like that, wrapped in the darkness, calmed by the evening smell of the water, watched over by the stars.

Johnny looked at Timmy’s shadowy outline. That sharp bridge of the nose, the curve of the chin, the arch of that chest...

“Do you know how the stars look like?” He asked, still staring at Timmy.

“Mmm, I have heard that they look like small glittering dots but I don’t know how glittering looks like. So what I have is just some vague ideas.”

There was a faint constriction inside Johnny’s chest. Must be because he had not eaten in a long time. Yes, that must be it. He turned his eyes towards the start that hung high above.

So simple a sight. So constant and common. But for Timmy, for Wong, for all those thousands of people, this was considered a privilege. Every glimpse of a sight was a privilege for them.

“They look like Braille dots gone wrong.” Johnny wanted Timmy to have his own version of stars, something he could relate.

Surprised, Timmy opened his eyes and turned his face a little to his right, where Johnny was.

“Really?”

“Mmhm.”

“That’s......That’s actually a clearer picture!” A shot of laughter left him, “Wow! ‘Braille dots gone wrong’,” he repeated Johnny’s words with another laugh, “Who would have thought that the stars could be explained like that? You’re really good with words!”

But they seem to fail me when I’m with you. But Johnny kept them to himself. No need to be that gay. He was already freaking out at his own behaviour. No need to freak his newly gained friend too. He was still no homo.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said instead.

“There is nothing much to tell. I live a very bland life.”

“About your childhood maybe?”

“You’re curious about how a blind kid survived this long, aren’t you?”

“The lie would be, no I’m not.”

“Honest as usual.”

“Always.”

They both chuckled.

“You always ask me about myself but never say anything about your life. Tell me about yourself and then only I’ll tell you mine.”

Johnny pretended to be shocked, “Why, Mr. Xu! You sound like a cunning businessman!”

“Why, Mr. Huang, you did not think I was one?”

Huffing, Johnny stretched his long arms above his head to get rid of the kinks in his shoulders and began, “If your life is bland then mine was the most clichéd one. My childhood was typical of that of an urban spoilt kid. Raised by nannies, put into a reputed, pricey school where you are taught to look down upon those who are from a different social class. I did everything except for studying but somehow managed to get promoted to the next class every year. Smoked my first cigarette when I was thirteen, had my first beer around the same time too. Kissed a girl in a darkened park one night when I was in high school. I was pretty popular among the girls, you know? And that got into my head. I started dating like crazy in college and all the way to the University, slept around quite a bit too but then got bored. My dad has money, like a lot of money and zero expectation from me; his light bearer is his other son. Oh, did you know that I have an elder brother? Perfect in every way and I quite hate him.” A crease formed in between his brows, common occurrence while talking about his brother. “Anyway,” not letting that moron to ruin his mood he resumed his talking, “The point is I never had to worry about earning to sustain but after finishing Uni, the partying life seemed so dull and hectic. I had always been good with voice modulation and a friend referred me to another friend who wanted a voice artist for a short commercial and from there I got referred a few times and ended up auditioning for a radio station. And despite having a degree in business management, I ended up being a radio jockey. It’s been four years since.” Johnny finished with a shrug.

“Typical rich brat life indeed,” Timmy remarked after keeping mum for a while, probably been processing the information.

“Told ya,” Johnny  smirked. He was not the crying over split milk type but sometimes he did regret for wasting all those years of his life. He could have done something better, something that actually made life meaningful.

“And you were quite a Cassanova too.”

Johnny’s eyebrows arched up, “You know about Cassanova?”

“You do know I can read, right?” Timmy deadpanned and Johnny laughed again.

“Do you? I had no idea! You look like such an illiterate pheasant!”

That earned him a good shove.

“Now it’s your turn, Timmy boy,” Johnny reminded him with a pat on his head. Timmy jerked his head to shake that intruding hand off.

“What’s there to tell? Though mine was not typical, it wasn’t interesting either,” Timmy said, his eyes are open now. Staring blankly at the darkness, seeing something that Johnny could not.

“Let me be the judge of that. You do your job, let me do mine.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Thank you.”

Letting out a throaty chuckle, Timmy sighed contemplatively, “I’ve heard that there was a lot of crying in my childhood. As I was born blind, I could not relate sounds with sights and that left me confused as an infant. I would get scared if there was a sound of clapping or singing or someone talking in a loud voice and would start crying. And my parents had not the slightest idea how to soothe a blind baby, therefore, more confused and bitter crying ensued. Then began the treatments, the hundreds of doctors’ appointments, tests, medicines and so on. When science failed to answer my parents plea, began their journey to faith, to prayers. But everyone has a limit and finally, my mum and dad realized that their only child would never be able to see. And thus began their struggle to fit me into this world where everything revolved around sight.

“I used to be upset most of the time. I did not understand what was going on, where the sounds, the voices were coming from; I did not know where to go when my name was called. I would bump around furniture, fall down, skin my knees and not know what that sticky wet thing coming from the wound. I would not understand what did, “Eat your food” meant. Because you see I did not know what porridge was. I knew the taste, I knew what it tasted like but I did not know them individually. I could not measure the length of a spoon or how far should I hold it in order to successfully eat by myself. That resulted into me being constantly upset and stubborn. I cried, screamed, threw things at everywhere till my parents got me into a preparatory school for blind kids. This was not Beijing or Shanghai. The options in a small town are nowhere near what people have in metro cities. But despite being a small charity foundation, I learned to ‘see’ in this school. They taught me that not eyes but I would have to see with my hands. They took us to the garden, made us touch the grass or the plants, leaves or just tumbleweeds and with each different feel they taught us a different name. This way I came to know what a leaf was, how the petals of different flowers shaped, how a book was different from a writing pad. I learnt how my mother looked like, how my dad had short hair but mum’s was long. Finally, with their voices, I could relate their different shapes. My parents were not just shapeless voices anymore.”

Timmy smiled like a child, lost in those early memories of his first “sighting”.

“Then began the learning of detecting the sound and determining the direction. That was my version of 3D, heh,” he laughed shortly and continued. In spite of the initial reluctance, Johnny could tell Timmy was actually feeling better having someone to talk to about these things. “Mum would make an array of sounds, taking time, repeating, labelling them with description like, “this is how a shoe sounds” or “this is the sound of opening the lid of a big jar” and then make them again which I’d have to detect which one was which. It was extremely frustrating at first but then I began to cope slowly, finding fun in these little learning games and my confidence grew. I began to live and not just exist. Gradually, I went to junior school. I learnt Braille. Though, my Dad taught me how to sign my name in regular alphabets too.”

“How?” Johnny could not help but ask.

“Like drawing a pattern again and again. That was how I learnt it first. Later, I learnt the English letters by using those alphabet toys little kids play with. I memorized their shapes and names.”

In that moment, the suppressed happiness and pride spilled through Timmy’s voice and touched Johnny, making the corners of his lips turn upwards in an equally proud and happy smile. He wanted to pat Timmy’s head or even hug him, but that would be too homo, so he refrained.

“Then?” He urged him to continue.

“Then middle school happened.” There was a certain quietness in his tone which told Johnny that the memories might not be as pleasant. “Our school had two sections- one for regular students, one for blind students-“

Johnny knew this was the norm of the society to divide people into groups like, regulars and irregulars; he himself used such divisions all the time. But today, hearing Timmy separating himself from the “regular” people just because of his blindness hit something within him hard but he did not interrupt.

“-The purpose of it was to give us the scope to socialize more, to bring normalcy in our lives as the blind kids often grow up without much socializing skills. We are not very adapting to social cues because it is always us that have to blend in, never the other way round, as we are the minorities. However, maybe due to the lack of planning on the faculty’s part, or maybe for some other reasons, nothing of that sort happened. No regular student wanted to mix with us. At recess time we used to stay at one side while the regulars played on the other. Although some of them sometimes approached us but those moments were filled with awkward questions, hesitant answers, baffled silence and so on. And then there were the bullies.”

“Bullies?”

“Yeah, every school has them,” a bitter chuckle left him, “Scratch that. You will face them in every aspect of your life. Anyway, so that was the only time we had any sort of contact with those regulars. They used to come up and poke fun at us, snatched our sticks, pushed us on the ground and if there was no adult present, beat us. Sometimes the brave ones among us retaliated by beating them back with our sticks. But more often than not we were the ones who took the burn. They had the advantage of the eyes, you see.”

And see Johnny did. A scene flashed in front of his eyes where a young Timmy was on the ground, dragging his small hands on the concrete, looking for his walking stick while tears streamed down his dusty cheeks. Wide, watery eyes begging for someone to grant him sight.

Johnny’s jaw muscle twitched. They were of the same age but while he was growing up bullying his peers, Timmy grew up being bullied. Could it be that in Fate’s twisted way Timmy got the burn of Johnny’s bad Karma?

Probably sensing the sudden gloom around them, Timmy tried to bring the joviality back, “But don’t get fooled by this. My life wasn’t all sob stories,” he laughed, emphasizing his point. “Things got drastically better by the time I went to college.”

“How so?”

“First off, I was way more confident and secondly- technology!”

“Huh?”

“You see, there was not this much development and accessibility when I was younger but as time grew things began to change for better on the blind education sector. We were being able to access internet through various apps and special keyboards, there were more and more Braille books and stuff. So, yeah, things became easier.”

“And your music?” He had been wondering this for quite a while. “Did you study it in college?”

“Oh, yes, it was my major.”

“Why did you choose it?”

“You mean how did I get into music?”

Johnny nodded, then realizing, he replied with a hum. There was a sudden nip in the air. Johnny shivered a little and asked if Timmy was cold too.

“It will rain. I can smell it in the air,” Timmy replied, prompting Johnny’s nose to twitch.

“How can you tell? I can’t smell anything!” The surprise in his voice was tinged with doubt.

“That’s because your ability to see overshadows every other senses you have.”

Johnny’s countenance became sulky immediately. He was not that much of a superficial person. He could and did use his other senses too. He opened his mouth to refute but Timmy beat him to it.

“Anyway, do you want me to continue or should I stop?”

The realization hit Johnny like a blow! Timmy wanted to talk about his life! Not only he was enjoying talking about it, he actually wanted, maybe even needed to talk about it and it was very likely that this was the first time anyone had given him a chance to talk.

“As if I would let you even if you wanted to stop,” Johnny harrumphed with a mock stern voice and had the satisfaction of seeing his companion’s face beam.

“Well, then. Where was I?....ah, my music.”

“Mmhm.”

“It was my Dad. He was the music enthusiast in our family,” A soft smile adorned Timmy’s face, a tale-tell sign of his affection towards his father. “We had a small upright piano at that time. After I got over my fear of sounds, my Dad started to introduce me to the magical world that was music. He used to sit me on his lap, held my hands and placed my fingers on the keyboard, pressing down, asking me to listen to the different sounds they emitted, asking me to feel the different keys....” He trailed off momentarily, lost in the memory lane, then resurfaced again, “And gradually I began to love the feel of the keys under my fingertips. The sounds, instead of confusing me, started to give me a sense of security and accomplishment. They did not demand for me to ‘see’ them in order to understand. Eyes were redundant in the world of music and that became my most favourite part. For the first time in my life I felt like I belong to somewhere. And over the years that love, ignited by my father, only grew more and more and I ended up being a music teacher,” he finished as his lips quirked into a smile.

“And why be a music teacher?” Jing pried further. His own curiosity to know every little detail about this man was shocking even to him. He was never someone who wasted his time knowing others. If something was not useful to him directly, he did not bother about it but Timmy was proving to be an exception to everything. But why so? He shelved that thought for later exploration.

“Because I wanted the kids who had a similar childhood like mine to find solace in music the way I did.”

After that they lapsed into idle chit chat, sometimes bringing up random topics, sometimes staying quiet, listening to the sound of the night....till the first few drops of rain landed on them. They hurriedly came down- Johnny asked Timmy if he needed any help which the later, quite predictably, declined- and got into the car.

They sat inside with Timmy facing the window, bottomless eyes staring at nothingness and Johnny staring at him. The damp breeze and the smell of petrichor wafting through the half opened glass of the window. The dim light of the car casting a shadowy shroud around them.

A nameless emotion welled up inside Johnny and splashed out of him.

“Timmy?”

Without turning Timmy gave a, “Hm?”

“.................... Don’t take it in a...um...gay way,” he felt his ears heating up quickly, “ ‘cause it’s not but..um..” Timmy had turned towards him now, looking at somewhere near Johnny’s left shoulder with that guileless expression. “Um...it’s that.........your eyes look like rain.”

Johnny bit his tongue hard in the next instant. That was NOT what he wanted to say! Rain? How the fuck could eyes look like rain? In his head he had this beautiful simile of comparing Timmy’s eyes with lake water in the evening, where falling darkness casted its shadows on the still surface, making the lake black with a faint silvery gray lining around the edges.

But what came out of his mouth was rain. Damnit.

And now Timmy looked utterly baffled, blinking quickly; Johnny wanted to hide under his seat. But of course, Timmy with his superhuman sensibility quickly recovered and threw him a weary smile before turning away.

“What good does that bring? They are of no use.”

With that statement all Johnny’s mortification evaporated like the steam rising from the hot ground.

“Not everything needs to be useful in order to be valuable. You can be valuable without judging yourself according to your usefulness.”

Johnny started the ignition of the car with a clenched jaw, suddenly furious and saw out of the corner of his eyes Timmy’s face turning towards him.

Even thought Timmy could not see it Johnny kept his lips pursed in a sulk all the way and dropped Timmy in front of his home.

Timmy got out of the car but rather than leaving he stood there, hand against the window. Johnny lowered the glass.

“Thank you for today,” Timmy said haltingly and Johnny had a feeling that Timmy wanted to say something more.

“No worries,” he replied, instilling a bit terseness in his voice, just to be a dick.

Timmy dithered for a moment, licking his lips, eyes lowered to where Johnny’s seatbelt clutch was.

“Johnny....” he stopped, probably making sure if he still had Johnny’s attention.

Like hell he did. Johnny immediately responded, “Yes?”

“I know what you did this evening........and I appreciate it.”

“What do you mean? What did I do?”

Timmy lifted his face slightly and they almost made eye contact.

“You slowed down for me. Thank you.”

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I did not do any behavioral studies on blind kids. Just put myself into Timmy's shoes. So, all the "what the hell" moments are my fault.

Any thoughts?😶