His pretty brown eyes had slowly started to grow dull. His clothes stopped matching slowly and started to grow clumsier. Soon he would ask me to pick out his clothes and lead him everywhere. He never said anything though, he never once complained about the fuzziness he said that he saw later on.

But his smile never faltered. He never seemed to be angry that he couldn’t see quite as well. Glasses didn’t help him one bit and I tried to help him everywhere I could go.

I’ll never forget the day he told me.

Minho. I can’t see your face anymore. You’re just fuzz… I-I think something’s wrong with me. I can’t see the floor. I can’t even see my hands when they’re two inches from my face. Minho… I-I can’t see…