“Are you alright?” Phoebe asked, her voice cautious. I sighed.

“Of course I am alright, Phoebes. You don’t have to worry so much,” I said genuinely, squeezing her hand.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t help it,” she said. “And I don’t know how you do it,” she added lowly with a sigh.

I shrugged my shoulders, choosing not to respond to her comment. I’ve been doing this for years; I barely knew any other life. It wasn’t that bad, really. “I could say the same thing to you,” I countered, referring to the way she always took care of me. I wasn’t sure if I would ever be capable to do what she does for another person. I’d probably do it for Phoebe, though. If I could, I would do anything for her.

I knew caring for me like Phoebe does wasn’t easy, and, honestly, I was wondering how she put up with me.

We walked in silence down the beach, just enjoying each other’s company. The sand in between my toes was amazing, and the occasional wave that rushed up high enough to reach our feet made me squeal in surprise—receiving a laugh from Phoebe. Unlike me, Phoebe was able to see a wave crash.I had to rely on my other senses—specifically my ears.

She was right; listening to the ocean was my favorite. It was so peaceful, and I let the sound of the water fill my ears and the scent of the salt fill my nose. The storms had finally passed, leaving the sea wild and rough, the undulating waves smashing into the coast.

“Oh, boy,” Phoebe breathed.

“What? What is it?” I asked, my head turning as if I could actually look around. That was the most frustrating part, sometimes—my head could still imitate the motions of sight and I blinked regularly like any normal person, but I just simply could not see a damn thing.

“Or should I say: Oh boys,” she altered her previous statement. I rolled my eyes—yes, I could do that, too.

“Go make some friends,” I encouraged with a laugh.

“What in the world are they doing?” she asked to herself.

I tugged on her sleeve. “Phoebes, what is it? Are we close to them?” I asked.

“Nah, they are further down the beach. But they’re running around like maniacs—Oh!”

“What?” I asked, but before she could answer, my entire body went rigid as a loud, unpleasant noise roared in my ears. I staggered a bit, beginning to feel ill.

“Shh, it’s okay Faye,” at this point, Phoebe and I had stopped walking, and she wrapped her arms securely around me.

“N-no,” I whispered with a shaky breath, trying my best to calm my heart rate down. Yes, sounds were normally relaxing for me… but not these sounds.

The snapping, the popping, the blasting. I could hear all of it ringing in my ears. And, now, I could see. Oh, I could see it all.

“Keep your head down!” she yelled, but I was too scared. The noises were so loud; I needed to look at my mother. I didn’t want to look at the blue carpet anymore. I needed to look at her face—her features always calmed me. Her warm smile, her promising eyes.

“Mommy!” I cried, tears streaming down my face. She didn’t hear me, though; everything was so loud. My entire body shook, my head cracking and my neck snapping.

“Head—down!” my mother gasped, and I obeyed—her features were not calming, today. They were pure terror, and I knew why. The blood that smeared the side of her face told me exactly what was happening.

I coughed, smoke filling my lungs painfully, as if the smoke had the soul of a ghost, entering my body and haunting my organs.

Loud booms and blasts made my head spin. I looked at my mother one last time.

“Head! Down! Faye!” she yelled; but it was too late. There were more cracking sounds, and one last deafening blast, coupled with an intense flash of orange and red, until everything went black.

“It’s all dark,” I whispered to Phoebe, clutching on to her as the sound of fireworks brought back this horrific memory.

“I know, honey, it’s okay, though. You’re going to be okay,” she cooed. I continued to shake in her arms until the sounds stopped, and suddenly the ocean didn’t sound as peaceful as before. My ears buzzed painfully, making any slight noise unbearable.

“Hey, is everything okay, here?” someone approached us, and I flinched at the sound of the voice. Whoever it was must have jogged over to us, because they sounded breathless. Great, I thought. I must have caused a scene.

“Uh, yeah, her ears are really sensitive, that’s all,” Phoebe said. I wondered what I looked like to him—crazy, probably. His face was probably contorted in disgust, staring at my shuddering body like I was an animal who was easily startled by simple fireworks. They were supposed to be enjoyable things to set off, but not to me—I couldn’t see the pretty colors, or admire that fascinating shapes. I only heard the explosions. Explosions that sent me into pathetic fits of terror. I was suddenly glad that I couldn’t see, though; being blind had its perks; I didn’t have to witness the condescending facial expressions that I most likely received.

“Yikes, I’m sorry about that,” the guy said. His voice was actually sincere—I was very skilled in detecting people’s true tone.

“No, sorry, it’s not your fault,” I said with a forced, casual laugh. I imagined that Phoebe was staring at me incredulously because I had talked—I normally left the talking to her when it came to strangers.

There was a long pause, and I figured that was because the guy used a smile as a response. It was probably one of those bitter, sad, sorry smiles.

“Well, I guess we should go, now,” Phoebe said after a light sigh, grabbing my arm.

“Oh, wait!” the guy said, and I knew enough to raise my eyebrow at the space I thought he was standing in (I was just glad that the storm was passed and we were outside, so he didn’t question why I was wearing dark shades, and he also couldn’t see my zoned out eyes).

“Yes?” Phoebe asked.

“Er, do you guys want to hang out with me and my friends? If you’re not busy,” the guy said, and his voice sounded shaky, as if he was nervous to ask.

“Um, I don’t know,” Phoebe said warily, giving my arm a squeeze. I felt bad; Phoebe deserved to have a little fun without me holding her back.

“That’s alright,” the guy said quietly.

“We’d love to,” I smiled, and I giggled when Phoebe pinched my arm.

“Sweet. What are your names?” he asked, his demeanor much more confident and happy.

“I’m Phoebe,” Phoebe said. She paused, allowing me to introduce myself. Normally she would just introduce both of us, but I was rather talkative today.

“And I’m Faye,” I smiled.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, a smile in his voice. “I’m Vic,” he said, and Phoebe tugged on my arm, telling me to walk forward. I immediately grew very nervous, and I counted the steps we took from the beachfront to wherever we were going, just in case I needed an easy escape. In this moment, I was envious of Phoebe’s ability to see her surroundings. I knew that she would keep me safe, but I still felt uncomfortable. I felt like I didn’t know what was going on—well, that was because I didn’t. I was completely and utterly in the dark. Phoebe must have sensed my apprehension, because she squeezed my arm reassuringly.

“Hey, guys,” Vic said. “This is Phoebe and Faye,” Vic introduced us to other people—how many other people, I didn’t know.

“Hey,” I heard a few people say at the same time. I just smiled weakly, hoping that none of them were looking at me too much.

“Girls, this is Tony, Jaime, and Mike,” Vic said, and I just slightly waved, hoping that would suffice.

“Hey, how’s it going,” Phoebe asked smoothly. Phoebe was pretty confident when she talked to people—even guys.

“Pretty good. Better now, though,” a smug voice said, but it wasn’t in a nasty, perverted way—if I wasn’t mistaken, it sounded like that person was being light-hearted and complimentary.

“Yo, Faye,” someone said from my right. I slightly turned to the source, raising my eyebrows. I really hoped that I turned in the right direction. “Sorry for startling you with the fireworks,” he said, and I felt my cheeks heat, even though he sounded genuinely sorry.

“Oh, it’s really okay. That was so embarrassing,” I said, flustered.

“Aw, guys, stop, she’s blushing!” a peppy voice said—it sounded like it was the same voice that had answered Phoebe’s question before.

At this, though, I blushed even harder, thoroughly embarrassed. “Sorry, sweetheart,” the guy on my right said.

“Er, Phoebe, Faye, we are just chilling on the beach tonight. How does that sound?” Vic changed the subject.

“That sounds nice,” Phoebe said happily.

“Yeah, sure,” I smiled, but I knew that if my eyes were functioning, they would not reflect my smile; they would be worried. Nighttime was approaching. Which meant they were going to question the glasses. I wasn’t sure why I wasn’t just open about my missing ability to see, but I also didn’t particularly enjoy announcing right off of the bat that I was blind. This constant battle in my head made for very uncomfortable introductions; I knew that it would be odd of me to meet someone and say, ‘Hey, I’m Faye, and I'm blind!’ But I also knew that it would be odd of me to meet someone and act like nothing was wrong—because there was obviously something wrong. Either way, it would be weird. Either way, meeting new people was just plain awkward.

Phoebe tells me that I should just “own it”, and “strut my stuff”, but I wasn’t confident enough for that.

And I certainly knew that being blind wasn’t a bad thing; they couldn’t possibly judge me for that. Although, I was sure they were all judging me now for my eccentric behavior—they were all probably sitting in the sand, while I was probably just standing there like a moron.

As I thought this, though, I heard the ruffling of fabric and the kicking of sand, meaning that they hadn’t sat down yet, but they were in the process of doing so.

Phoebe squeezed my arm. “Oh, you boys are going to make us sit in the sand?” she asked rhetorically, and I smirked.

The guys mumbled inaudible things, and we laughed. “She’s just kidding, don’t mind her,” I said, grinning thankfully at Phoebe and sitting down in the sand. Thank God for Phoebe, once again. Luckily, she knew that I wanted to keep this charade up; I didn’t enjoy the way people treated me when they figured out that I was blind, and she knew that. Phoebe treated me like a normal person, while outsiders treated me like I was some sort of crazed foreigner. Sometimes I have to remind people that I was blind, not deaf.

“So,” the voice I recognized as Vic spoke. “What brings you ladies to San Diego? We’ve never seen you at this part of town, before,” he said.

“We actually just moved here,” Phoebe said.

“From where?” a new voice asked.

“North Carolina,” I answered.

“What brings you all of the way to the west coast?” one of the other voices asked.

“Well, Mike,” Phoebe began. Bless her; she was putting names to voices for me. “It’s kind of complicated, and a really long story,” she said plainly. I sighed a small breath of relief as she was telling the truth; it was pretty complicated for someone who didn’t know our situation. And I really didn’t want to talk about it. It made my nerves electrify.

“Oh, being mysterious, are we?” the same voice—Mike—asked with a chuckle, and I smirked.

“You guys have never seen a real west-coast sunset, before, I’m assuming?” another voice asked with a laugh. This was the same, peppy voice as before.

Phoebe laughed sarcastically, and I was confused. “No, Jaime,” she started, and I thanked God again for that woman. “It’s too bright for us,” she said. “It doesn’t help that we are hung over as fuck,” Phoebe said bluntly in a loud whisper, and the guys laughed. That was when I realized that Phoebe had sunglasses on, too, and my eyes instantly began to tear up. The lengths she went to make me feel more normal—even for one night—made me incredibly grateful for her. I owed this girl the world, the universe, my own goddamn soul.

“Ah, you’ll fit in great with Mike here,” Vic snickered. Mike—I assumed—made a grunting noise.

“Thanks for making me look bad, asshole,” Mike complained.

“Hey, we didn’t really give off good impressions, either, eh?” I laughed, referring to my mini episode and our fake hangovers.

“Mike and Vic are brothers, by the way,” a voice—who, by process of elimination, I assumed was Tony—said.

“Oh,” I said.

“Are you girls sisters?” Vic asked, and I shook my head.

“So Phoebe thinks you are sisters, but Faye, you beg to differ?” Vic laughed, and I blushed, realizing that Phoebe must have nodded affirmatively. That was stupid of me; it’d be easier to explain why we moved to San Diego together if we were sisters.

“Oh,” I laughed. “Er, we are sisters. But I see her as my best friend,” I said with a smile, receiving a chorus of “aww”’s from the guys.

“Yeah, we are close sisters, but we don’t really fight,” Phoebe added. I nodded in agreement. The only time we’ve ever had an actual argument was regarding our move to San Diego; I tried to push the invading conversation out of my mind. Bottom line was, though, that I needed to be here, she wanted me to be here, but I didn’t want to drag her further into my mess of a life. It wasn’t even a fight; it was more of Phoebe caring for me too much, and me just trying to push her away—even though she wasn’t going anywhere. Silly me.

“That nice. It’s like the opposite with me and Mike,” Vic said.

“Oh, stop it! You love me!” Mike whined, and I laughed. I enjoyed the animation of these guys, even only by sitting here for a few short minutes. It gave me hope that maybe they wouldn’t notice my blindness; maybe I’d have an entire night feeling normal.

Remember when I said that life wasn’t a fair player?

“Girls, sunglasses? Really?” Jaime laughed—a booming, hyper laugh.

“What’s the problem?” I spoke up.

“What, is the moon too bright for you?” Mike laughed, and my cheeks burned. Oh, fuck it, I thought as I took my sunglasses off.

“Didn’t even notice,” I said ironically—because, literally, I didn’t even notice. I knew my eyes probably looked wild to them—distant, zoned out, unfocused. I allowed my eyelids to droop a little more than normal, but I was sure that I still didn’t look right. Phoebe squeezed my arm—telling me that everything was going to be okay.

“Damn, girl; you really are hung over,” Jaime laughed again, and I smiled weakly in what I thought was his general direction.

“Whoops,” I shrugged my shoulders. I gulped, though, wondering if the others noticed anything off about me.

I didn’t know why I cared so much, though. Not everything was about me—I needed to stop focusing on myself, and I needed to stop worrying about what they thought. I sighed, extending my palms into the sand behind me, locking my elbows, and resting my body back, relaxing my seat in the sand. I felt Phoebe pat my hand gently.

“Faye, are you alright?” Mike asked lowly next to me. I turned my head to the side, imitating the way a normal person would face another.

“Peachy,” I said, my tone probably a little too sour than necessary. “So, what were you guys doing before?” I changed the subject, closing my eyes to make it look like I was just relaxing.

“Being boys?” Phoebe added with a laugh.

“Yeah, we were celebrating,” Jaime said—his voice excited.

“That was an interesting way to celebrate. That’s how you get your heads blown off,” Phoebe giggled.

“What were you celebrating?” I spoke up again, keeping my eyes closed. I was afraid to open them because I had no idea where to look.

“We were hoping you wouldn’t ask that,” Vic said in a tone that I couldn’t distinguish.

“Oh?” Phoebe said.

“Ah, the cat is out of the bag, now,” Tony said, and then it occurred to me that maybe I wasn’t the only one with a secret—how ironic.

“What cat?” I said, causing everyone to laugh hysterically. I didn’t understand what was so funny about that, though.

“Not a literal cat, Faye,” Mike chuckled.

“I know that!” I protested. “I was being figurative, like Tony,” I explained. “What’s your secret?” I asked bluntly.

“Oh,” Mike chuckled again. “Um,” he paused.

“We are actually in a band. And we are celebrating the way the night hides—” Jaime began, but Vic cut him off.

“Don’t even, Himes,” he laughed. “We are celebrating the first night back home from tour. So we thought attacking each other with fireworks would be a good idea,” he said.

“Oh, that’s cool though!” I said—wondering why they were so wary of us knowing that piece of information. “Why is that such a secret?” I asked.

“Vic here doesn’t like people using him for his fame,” Mike said.

“Shut up, Mike, the same goes for you,” Vic mumbled. “We’ve all been burned before,” he said louder. “We just don't particularly enjoy introducing ourselves with the label of being in a band. We want people to get to know us for who we are, not for who we’ve become,” he explained, and I nodded and smiled, impressed with their non-cocky attitudes.

“I know what you mean,” I mumbled.

I shivered when I felt breath by my right ear. “Yeah, what’s your secret?” Mike whispered lowly.

I bit my lip and sighed—he knew something was up. “Honesty hour!” I raised my hands up in the sky, hitting someone’s face in the process. I knew it was wrong to laugh, but I couldn’t help it. “Shit, sorry!” I giggled, assuming it was Mike. Everyone else just laughed, too.

“We are all actually very similar,” I said to the group.

“How so?”

“Well, you guys don’t want people to get to know you because of your band. And I don’t want people to get to know me because of my blindness,” I said quickly and with a frown. I felt ashamed, for some reason, and I knew it was ridiculous—I have never felt ashamed to be blind, and, frankly, I had no reason to be.

“Wait, back up for a second,” Jaime said. “You’re blind?”

“Yes?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that going to be a problem?” I sighed.

“I knew it,” I heard Tony mumble lowly—nobody else probably heard him, but, yet again, my hearing exceled everyone else’s. Props to Tony for being observant.

“That’s so cool,” they all said, and I just cackled.

“I’ve never gotten that before,” I said seriously.

“It is cool! You seem so normal!” Jaime said.

“I am normal,” I frowned. “I just can’t see any of you fuckers,” I laughed, trying to keep the mood light.

“I just ask one thing,” I began, and they responded with silence, so I just continued. “You guys don’t want to be treated differently because of your status, and I don’t want to be treated differently because of my condition. Establish that now, and I think we will all get along very well,” I said with a toothy and happy smile.

“Dealio,” Mike said from next to me, and then I felt a hand pat my right one—it must have been Mike’s hand, because I was nearly a hundred percent sure that he was sitting to my right. I smiled.

“So, tell us about your band. I love music,” I said.

“We’re called Pierce the Veil,” Vic said.

“What genre?” I asked, genuinely interested.

“Er, I don’t really know. We don’t really put a label to it,” Vic said.

“That’s fair enough. I’ll have to give you all a listen, then,” I said.

There was a silence, which I assumed was filled with smiles and nods. “Where were you guys touring?” Phoebe asked.

“America. It was awesome. It was the first tour for our new album,” Jaime explained.

“Nice,” Phoebe commented. There was another silence, and I got the impression that the boys did not want to talk about the band anymore—I didn’t blame them. There was much more to these guys than their music, no matter how much it defined their lives.

“So, how old are all of you?” I changed the subject.

“I’m 29,” Vic said.

“Tony and I are 26,” Jaime said.

“I’m 28,” Mike said.

“Oh, nice. Phoebes and I are both 27,” I told them.

“Cool. What do you girls do?” Vic asked.

I smiled mischievously. “Being blind has its upsides,” I wiggled my eyebrows.

“You don’t work? Sweet,” Jaime commented.

I chuckled. “Nah, I’m just kidding. I’m, uh, I guess you could say I’m in between jobs right now, but I am trained in social working and intend to pursue that when our time in San Diego is up,” I said, stumbling on my words a bit.

“What do you mean?” Vic asked.

“I have to take a break from work right now, I guess you could call it a hiatus. But I’ll be back and kickin’ soon,” I said with a convincing smile, hoping that they wouldn’t press the topic further. I really just didn’t like talking about it.

“Interesting. So, what do you do exactly?” Tony asked—what was this, twenty questions? I didn’t mind though; it was cool that they were trying to actually get to know me—and it didn’t help that I was being a tad vague.

“I’m the one who hangs out with the kids, talks to them, helps them through their problems, while they are dealing with family drama.”

“Faye is really great with kids,” Phoebe commented, and I smiled. It was true that I loved kids; I loved families, in general. I just liked to help make families whole again, and if that was impossible—whether due to abusive, absent, or drug addicted parents—I always tried to make the kids feel at home somewhere else. I wasn’t in charge of placing them, exactly; I was more in charge of checking up on the kids after they’ve been placed and making sure they were happy. It was a very fulfilling line of work—difficult, at times—but very fulfilling.

“What about you, Phoebes?” Vic asked.

The sand moved beside me—Phoebe adjusting her position—and then she began to briefly explain her career as graphic designer. Vic seemed really excited about that occupation; apparently that would have been his alternate career choice if it weren’t for the band. Even though I had to take a break from work, luckily Phoebe found a temporary job here. The guys were really impressed with Phoebe’s selflessness and the way she is always there for me, in addition to having her own job—Hell, I was still impressed. They might be in a band, but Phoebe was the true rock star.

I sort of spaced out a little while they all continued to chat and laugh. It was nice, being in new company, and I specifically enjoyed listening to Phoebe’s laugh. We always had a good time together, but it’s been forever since we have hung out with a bigger group of people.

“Hey,” I slowly was brought back to reality when I heard the same low voice as before—Mike—speaking into my ear. “You have beautiful eyes,” he said.

“That was random; but thank you, I guess,” I giggled nervously. In all honesty, I had no idea what I looked like. Phoebe always did my hair and makeup, and luckily I trusted her enough to not make me look like an animal.

“I just thought you should know,” he said, and I detected by the rustling of fabric suggested that he shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, then, that’s the only good thing about them,” I said. Apparently my eyes were pretty, and that relieved me because I always imagined that they were scary to look at—wide, bloodshot, unfocused. But if that was not truly the case, then fantastic! At least my good for nothing eyeballs were pleasant to look at.

I scoffed at the thought; eyes were supposed to be “windows to the souls”, yet mine were superficial. They had no use—worthless spheres in my head—but at least they looked nice. They were like those stereotypical mean girls in high school—preppy and prissy on the outside, but completely lacking substance on the inside. I sighed.

I realized that I had zoned out again when, this time, Phoebe’s voice reigned me back in. “Yeah, that would be great, actually,” she said, and I tilted my head.

“Sweet, let’s go,” Vic said.

“Wait, what?” I asked. “I completely missed all of that, sorry,” I laughed lightly.

“They are going to drive us home so we don’t have to walk in the dark. Is that okay?” Phoebe told me, and I nodded.

“Oh, yeah, sure, thanks,” I smiled softly, pushing my self up and on to my feet. “Unf!” I groaned when the quick motion of standing up made me collide with someone else who had been standing already in front of me.

“Shit, sorry,” I mumbled apologetically.

“You’re an abusive little one, aren’t you?” Mike asked, patting my head. I giggled, realizing that this was the second time this evening that I have accidentally wacked him.

“It’s not my fault you were standing too close,” I said, shrugging my shoulders, and he just laughed.

The car ride back to our new house was quick, luckily. I sat quietly, letting everyone else talk. I had suddenly grown very tired, and I tried my best to hold back a yawn.

“Here we are!” Vic sang.

“Thanks a lot,” we said, and I smiled.

“It was nice meeting you ladies,” they all said.

“It was nice meeting you, too!” I said.

“See you around…” Vic said, his voice hopeful.

“Yeah, definitely!” Phoebe answered. We all said our goodbyes—I hugged them all awkwardly—and then they left.

“…That was so nice,” Phoebe sighed dreamily once we got inside.

“Aw, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. You deserve it,” I said, punching her arm lightly.

“Ow, bitch! That was my boob!” Phoebe whined with a giggle and a shriek. Apparently I had missed her arm—oops.

“Sorry,” I giggled, although I wasn’t really that sorry at all.

Phoebe laughed lightly. “Let’s tour the house tomorrow. It’s dark right now,” she said.

“Oh, is it?” I asked sardonically.

“Ha, right. Yeah, the electricity doesn’t work for some reason yet. So let’s cuddle in the sleeping bags we brought!” she said enthusiastically.

“Ah, you get to spend a night living in my world,” I grinned. Phoebe laughed sarcastically while she—I assumed—set up a comfortable place to sleep.

“Here we are,” she said, grabbing my hand and leading me down to the sleeping bags. “Oh, wait, do you want to change?” she asked. I shook my head; I was too tired to change and I was already in comfortable clothes.

“So,” I said, turning to face Phoebe. I knew that I was facing her because I could feel her breathing on my face. “Will you describe the boys to me?” I asked dreamily. Phoebe was pretty good at describing people—I wondered if she ever stretched the truth a little bit. I trusted her, though. Phoebe was one of the only people in my life that I trusted with every bone in my body—except on April Fool’s Day. Phoebe was a sucker for those jokes.

“They are all so gorgeous,” Phoebe said. I sighed; what a shame that I couldn’t see for myself.

“Tell me, tell me, tell me,” I said excitedly, feeling like a child begging to hear their favorite bedtime story.

“Okay, well, to start they are all of Mexican descent. The first person we met was Vic. Vic is about an inch taller than me, and you are about his height. He’s naturally tan, and he has these big, brown, adorable puppy dog eyes. Oh, and he has a silver hoop nose ring on the right side of his nose. His eyebrows I guess you could classify as bushy, but they fit his face perfectly and are spaced out nicely. His face is really soft looking, and kind of full. When he smiles, his teeth are nice and white and big and pretty, and when his face is placid his lips part slightly, so you can still see his teeth a little. It’s so hot. And his hair—oh my goodness, his hair! It’s brown and wavy, and it goes down right to his shoulders. It’s messy, but contained, if that makes sense. And he has bangs that sweep across his forehead. Today he was wearing a back wards snap back, so his hair kind of flowed out of it. He has nice arm muscles and he’s thin. Well, all of them are thin. But Vic is nicely toned and—”

“Take a breath, there, Phoebes,” I laughed at her rant of a description.

“Sorry,” she laughed, and I’m sure she was blushing. “He was really attractive,” she giggled softly.

“I bet,” I said. “I get the picture. Who’s next?”

“Um, Tony! Tony is about average height. Tan, as well. He has a lot of tattoos. The one you notice the most is of an owl on his neck. His face is a round shape, and he has stretched out ears and a dermal piercing. His eyes are a nice brown color, as well, and they are kind of droopy. And his hair is kind of flippy, if you can imagine that? It’s brown, and pretty long, but it hangs in front of his face and not on his shoulders, kind of swept to the side, if that makes sense. I don’t know, really. Oh, he also has a padawan braid. That’s a Star Wars term, and it’s basically a long, thin braid that rests on his shoulder, like how a padawan would wear it—but I guess you don’t know what that is. When he smiles, he has like, vampire teeth, almost,” she said. Okay, maybe I lied when I said that Phoebe was good at describing people…

I laughed. “You’re killing me, Phoebes,” I shook my head.

“It’s a lot harder to describe people than it looks,” she said sternly, laughing afterwards.

“Alrighty, next!”

“Jaime. Jaime is just adorable, y’know? Very bouncy and energetic.”

“Yeah, I got that,” I said. Jaime’s energy was radiating—I could just feel it. I sensed that Tony, on the other hand, was shy. Vic seemed like the leader of the group, and I wasn't entirely sure about Mike.

“He has really spiky, black hair. He’s Mexican, but he’s not as tan as Vic and Tony. He’s a pretty big guy, not stick thin, but, like, built up. He has brown eyes. He has a tattoo sleeve on his left arm. And I’m just going to stop there, because I’m sure you don’t want me to go on and on about his incredible dimples, holy shit,” she said, receiving another laugh from me.

“And now the moment we’ve all been waiting for…” Phoebe said in a deep voice.

“Jesus, Phoebe,” I hissed, ‘rolling my eyes’.

Phoebe giggled before continuing. “So, Mike. Mike is very tall, for starters. And very skinny. He’s like a stick, but an attractive stick,” she began. She paused, and I assumed she was making a goofy face, like wiggling her eyebrows or something.

I chuckled. “Carry on…”

“So, you know how I said that Tony has a lot of tattoos? Well, Mike has so many more. He has one on his neck that says “heart and soul”, and many more on his chest, arms, hands, fingers, and places under his clothes, I’m sure.” I laughed. “So, he has a bottom lip piercing; a silver hoop in the middle of his lip. And his medusa is pierced with a diamond stud. His eyes are a gorgeous, sparkly brown. And his hair is very thin and wispy, kind of like Tony’s, but not as thick. He was wearing a hat, so it was hard to tell, but he had some sticking out in the back left.I don’t really know how to describe him anymore except he’s pretty damn attractive,” she concluded.

“Thanks for that,” I chuckled.

“Anything for you, babe,” she said happily. I sighed, wondering again what I would do without her.

After a few moments of silence, Phoebe spoke up again. “I’m glad you embraced your blindness today,” she said, and, I don’t know why, I laughed. I guess the word choice made me giggle—it was also late, and I had the giggles.

“Me too. They seemed not to mind,” I said, although I couldn’t be sure. Apparently eyes tell the truth, but I couldn’t see theirs in order to make a definite conclusion.

“They were nice,” Phoebe said softly. “It was funny; the second they figured out you were blind, Mike couldn’t get his eyes off of you,” Phoebe confessed, and I suddenly felt self conscious. “In a good way, babe,” she reassured, noticing my reaction. “It was different.”

“How so?” I asked, not quite understanding what she meant.

“Well, it wasn’t in that normal, annoying way. He wasn’t looking at you protectively or concerned or worried like most people do. He was almost looking at you in a prideful way,” Phoebe explained. “I don’t know; I can’t put a name on it. It was just different, but in a good way, you know what I mean?” I nodded, furrowing my eyebrows.

“Interesting.”

“Yeah…” Phoebe said, her voice strained and oddly quiet. Even with that one, whispered word, I knew something wasn’t right.

“Phoebe?” I touched her arm tenderly. “Are you crying, baby? What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing,” she said, her voice muffled as she shook her head. After years of observation, I knew what it sounded like when people shook their heads. Normal people would never pick up what I could hear, but my ears were very well trained.

“Phoebe…” I touched her cheek gently, feeling dampness.

“It’s just… it’s just…”

“What is it?” I cooed, pulling her into my arms. Phoebe never cried, so I knew something was wrong. It broke me heart to see her—er, hear her—like this.

“Don’t be mad at me,” she whined.

“I would never be mad at you, darling. Just talk to me,” I said softly, brushing back her hair and wondering what the hell was wrong. I wanted nothing more than to look her in the eyes and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

“I’m s-sad because… I’m sad because you didn’t get to see…” her voice trailed off as she choked on more sobs.

“See what?” my voice cracked.

“The way Mike looked at you,” she sniffled. “Every girl deserves to have a boy look at her like that. And I’m sad because you can’t see it,” she cried.

I sighed, sad for my friend. She wasn’t trying to rub it in my face that I couldn’t see—it was just years of having to witness me being handicapped finally building up on her and breaking her down. She was sad because she really, truly cared for me, and she wanted me to experience the things that made life so loveable. Sometimes, this whole “being blind” thing was just as hard for her as it was for me. “Oh, Phoebe.”

Notes

Thanks so much for the rates/comments/subscribes already!! you guys rock!! I hope you guys like this; I'm really excited about it and I have so many plans. I'm going to take it slow, though, just a heads up!

And sorry this is long... I just kept going and going idek. It's late and je suis fatigue

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Just in case you were wondering:
Phoebe=pronounced fee-bee
But sometimes Faye says "Phoebes" which is like a nickname=feebs

idk i just figured i'd put that there even though it's unimportant lol