"How long has it been?"

"Ironically, it started after the break-up…" you comment, turning to peer out the window.

It’s the cliched incurable eye disease in your right eye, the kind that only exists in dramas and one in every two million and three-hundred thousand people. Sadly, your left eye was worse than your right eye originally, and then being rid of your sight in your right eye makes things harder to see, harder to decipher.

For almost twenty years, you’ve depended on your sight for many things like appealing ice-cream flavors or adorable animals or telling if the person you’ve just met is either a psycho or an internally really nice person. You used your sight to play video games and bake and cook with ease and now, it’s like a film has been placed over everything, as if you’re driving through fog.

You can’t take morning runs now or else you’d end up running into a ditch. You can’t walk through crowded streets without breaking down because every hue, every color is blended together in this one beautiful but heartbreaking mess.

It’s only been a few months since your diagnosis, a few months since you broke up with your boyfriend because not even him would want to have a legally blind girlfriend, a few months since your best friend comes and helps around, making childish boyish faces when going through your room because sometimes, you leave unspeakable clothing items around.

Kibum may seem brash and rude and too frank on the outside, but as his best friend, you know he’s more of a mother and an over protective brother and a great listener. Now, you kind of depend on him to make sure you don’t go outside looking like a discarded mannequin in a shop.

"You know," he starts, his tone rarely this serious and low, "I’ll always be there for you, even after you lose your sight, you know?"

"Yah," you playfully exclaim, turning back to sock him lightly on the arm, "You’re my best friend. I’d hunt you down if you didn’t stay."

He rubs his arms in an elementary fashion, pouting and frowning and you slowly reach over to precisely pinch his cheeks like he’s five and not twenty.

Everything starts to blur, fog, cloud, whatever other synonyms out there, and you find yourself closing your eyes and ducking your head into your hands, willing yourself to realize that maybe darkness is better than this oblivion, this vapor that washes over your eyes, making everything seem like you can never see a thing again but shades of grey.

Kibum has his arms wrapped around you in seconds, gently rocking you back and forth and placing his lips on your crown lightly in manners of comforting you.

"We’ll get through this," he says, his arms tightening around you. "We’ll stop driving through the fog soon."