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Sightless

In Baekhyun’s backyard there are flowers. All different colours and types lined up against his fence. There are purple tulips sitting right behind the row of pink carnations; a rose bush at the two corners and blue larkspurs that sway freely behind the petite primroses. It’s a miscellany of Byun Baekhyun’s happiness and rapture, displayed eloquently with deliberate consideration.

The centre stands a blossom tree, embraced by a ring of heather plants. A monochromatic white in the midst of colourful arrays. Elegance in forms of branches and leaves, quivering amongst the light breeze.

Three words are meticulously carved into the intricate trunk: For my mother.

***

The calendar tells him that it is the 28^th of September, 2013. Yet Baekhyun feels as though time hasn’t moved since 2009, as everyday he is dragged along with the same mundane routines. It’s boring and most certainly tedious, but it’s what he has to do to make a living. More precisely though, it’s all he can do.

There are two bedrooms in his house. One in which Baekhyun occupies, the other left untouched. It has been so for four years. Dust collects on the doorknob and the slit beneath the door is thick with grime, but Baekhyun has no intentions of cleaning it. He only stands outside, staring at the door as if he can see through it. And maybe he can. Because Baekhyun can still remember where everything is in that room; the two pots of cactus sitting by the windowsill, but by now has probably withered and rotted, just like the remnants of his happiness. The bed that lies in the corner, with sheets that hasn’t been changed for as long as he hasn’t stepped in, and a cupboard, most likely decorated in cobwebs.

It’s a room that used to belong to his mother; quite simple and bare, noticeably empty, just like her. And he hasn’t entered that room ever since he found her lying dead on the soft duvet sheets. Maybe so he can tell himself that it never happened or maybe it’s to keep those memories locked away. Either way he finds himself standing outside every day for five minutes before he heads off to make breakfast. He, however, still doesn’t understand why he does it. Perhaps it’s out of habit or probably it’s the only thing left that keeps him sane besides his flower garden.

***

During Tuesday shifts, Baekhyun always finds himself working overtime, alone, and he thinks that it’s best this way. Although his days are simple and repetitive, and his daily rituals are unchanging, he finds solace and security within the walls of his monotonous life.

The office is quiet, and the only sound that can be heard is the typing of his keyboard droning the minutes with the clicking of his mouse, sometimes punctuated by the pressing of his calculator buttons. His steady breathing lingers in between. There are times Baekhyun wonders, as he surveys the numbers and charts and tables on the screen, how he has gotten the job at such a young age. Considering he was a college dropout and failed maths in high school, it came to him as a huge surprise when the employer gave him a letter of acceptance. He likes to believe that he was lucky that day.

This job is purely for financial support – something to keep him stable throughout the years of his life. Natheless, Baekhyun feels that he has grown attached to the integers and figures on the monitor and the free coffee they give at the cafeteria with every purchased meal is a bonus. He deems that the pay is exceptional compared to the two part time jobs he’s had in high school.

An unpigmented lining of the moon works in from the window and gleams off the silver label on his phone. Baekhyun notes the flashing and sighs because he doesn’t want to be disturbed. He still has to verify the accuracy of all money transactions of the company and make sure that they are all legal and follow current guidelines; but he picks up when he realises that it’s not his childhood best friend, Park Chanyeol, who usually calls for a drink at the bar. A lady speaks on the other end, her voice unfamiliar, and Baekhyun listens half-heartedly.

“Hello, am I speaking to Byun Baekhyun?”

“Yes.”

“I want to inform you that your grandmother has been hospitalised at Seoul National University Hospital and is currently in the emergency room.”

“Okay. I’ll be on my way.”

Baekhyun drives down the streets of Seoul with the radio tunning mellow songs and he can’t help but hum along to the euphonious sound of the piano that drifts together with the soft guitar strings. He leaves work an hour early that day and waits patiently outside the room.

“What happened to her?” he questions a nurse.

“She was found outside her house with a bleeding head. From observations, it seems that she must have fainted and landed on the concrete.” The nurse replies politely.

“Will she die?” The question unsurprisingly comes off cold, but it’s not like he cares anyways. Because the only thing on Baekhyun’s mind is not having enough money to prepare her funeral. It’s the most he can do.

“She lost quite a lot of blood, but the doctors are doing their best.”

He nods, a little too nonchalantly and takes a seat; glad that he has brought his laptop so at least he has something to do. The night travels off uneventfully, and Baekhyun leaves right after they announce that his grandmother is treated, without sparing her one single glance.

***

On some days Baekhyun visits during the night when his grandmother is asleep. On others, he doesn’t visit at all. Not because he cares, but to check whether or not she’s dead yet. It’s a little cruel that he thinks this way but Baekhyun can’t help but feel the way he feels.

Today, Baekhyun is a little too tired to drop by, but he does so anyways and he wishes that he didn’t. His grandmother lies awake on the bed as though she knew he was coming and Baekhyun doesn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes and scoffing. He is about to leave, but his grandmother calls him back, which comes as a little surprise for him as he wasn’t expecting a conversation, neither does he want one.

“It’s been a long while. Let’s say… about fifteen years now.” She says, pondering on her own statement.

It disgusts him that this lady can be so completely normal and insouciant. “Well, I’m about to make it longer. It’s not like we ever even spoken the first time around.” Baekhyun makes a second attempt to leave, but she keeps him frozen in his spot as her question resonates through the room. It forces him stationary, as if the two hundred and six bones in his body has stopped working, and he tries to make it fall in place with his breathing.

“How’s your mother?”

Internally, Baekhyun laughs so hard that for a minute he forgets that he’s still there and the question remains unanswered. “She’s dead… It’s been four years now.” Baekhyun waits for her response, checking to see if there’s any sign of guilt and stares hard at the ground as time stands on its heels – unstable and tumbling, passing by slowly and unbearably dripping with fraught.

“Oh.”

Baekhyun inhales the autumn air, exhales anger; comes out hot and ragged with fingers clenching hard into palms. It hurts – physically – but nothing pains more than the lump sitting in his throat and the wrath boiling in his stomach. Drowns him so suddenly like a deluge, leaving nothing beside scars and torn out expectations.

“Oh? That’s it?!” The question builds on rage, layers of bitterness cemented with grudge, stacking higher and higher, blocking his lucidity and sense. “Oh? That’s really it? After everything that has happened?! Oh? After the time you kicked her out of the house because she was pregnant, leaving her stranded with no money and having to work even with a baby inside? Oh? For doing that because she didn’t want to abort me? Oh? After cutting all connections and not being there when she needed you most?”

Hot tears are burning his eyes, but Baekhyun continues because he wants her to know or more so he needs her to know. His voice cracks in between sentences and the ground feels as though it’s swallowing him whole. “She was young and naïve. It’s not her fault she believed in love from that man. It’s not her fault he left after getting her pregnant! But it’s your fault… it’s your fault for letting her struggle. It’s your fault that she ended this way. It’s your fault because you weren’t there when she suffered from postpartum depression. Do you even know how much she suffered? As a mother who has been through childbirth… did you ever realise that your daughter was in pain? As a human being, could you not have spared some sympathy?”

Baekhyun’s breath comes out more uneven and he realises that he’s been crying. “My mother was lucky that at least she had one close friend left who was kind enough to look after me for a year while she went to recover. When she came back, she was better. Or so she thought. We had no money, no proper house, and I had to watch her struggle for seventeen years before she ended it. Fifteen years ago, I met you. I was seven back then, but you never even looked at us in the eyes and walked off as if you never even knew your own daughter. But my mother always told me that you were a good person. I believed it for a while; however, I’m not stupid. I’ll never be dumb enough to believe that.”

The door slams forcefully as Baekhyun leaves, not waiting for a reply because the room is suffocating him by the second and he feels sick to the core. For Baekhyun, autumns should be made up of cups of warm tea under blankets and snuggly scarves; rustling leaves threading deep into midnight as the owls hoot along with the dancing wind. Not burning tears that open wounds and pours salt into the fathomless crevices of his unhealed scars.

So he tries to walk out of the hospital. Each step quickens until he finds himself running, sprinting even, passing through the corridors and downs the halls, running pass rooms of unfamiliar people and walls that are sickening white, running without the faintest idea of what he is running from. The feeling of dirtiness and his hidden baggage makes their way to his shoulders, weighing down his every movement. He comes colliding into an unknown figure and they both stumble to the floor and Baekhyun is the first to apologise. There is a gash at her elbow, and he would’ve taken her to a nurse, but the anger is still there and he can’t help but sprint away, leaving the girl behind with blood dripping from her ripped skin.

***

“Do you think I should go and see if she’s okay?” Baekhyun speaks on the phone to Chanyeol as he nibbles on his sandwich during break time. There’s a part of him that says he doesn’t need to because he’s already apologised, but the other part tells him that he should have at least taken her to a nurse.

“Well, do you know her name?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t know dude. It’s up to you. If it’s eating up your conscience then just do it.” Chanyeol is the first to hang up because he’s not really supposed to be on the phone while he’s working and the customers can be heard screaming out for him on the other end. He works in a corner bar, mixing cocktails and pouring wine, and loves what he does.

After break, Baekhyun knows he should be working and typing the finances away, but he catches himself spinning around on the office chair, tapping the top of a pen against his lips, contemplating on whether or not he should visit. It’s a simple no he should not go or yes he should go, but somewhere in between he feels there is a chance that he might run into his grandmother again. And Baekhyun doesn’t want that.

As the sun begins to set, and the sky spreads in hues of blue and purple, Baekhyun stands outside the hospital entrance with a bunch of flowers he bought after work. His fingers are fiddling with the bow and his eyes are determined. The breeze is comforting; kissing softly on his skin, delicately pirouetting between the strands of his soft hair. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous, but he is and it’s making him a little worried.

The receptionist greets him with a smile as Baekhyun deliberates on how he should phrase his question. There is a sense of uncertainty in his voice as he speaks, but he continues just so he can get it over and done with and let the guilty feeling evaporate. He bites his lips, “Was there a girl that came in with a wound on her elbow yesterday?”

The receptionist looks at him weirdly, “Sorry sir, but there are many people who come in with injuries, so it would be better if you gave us a specific name.”

“Well, umm…” Baekhyun scratches the back of his neck and thinks hard. “She’s actually a patient here, and it happened around like 9pm. That’s all I know.”

“Ahh… I might have a clue of who you’re talking about.” The lady says, checking a few documents in the cabinet. “But is there a reason why you need to see her?”

Baekhyun smiles, and tells the receptionist truthfully of what had happened yesterday, “I just need to apologise, that’s all.” He finishes off.

“I see.” She whispers, pushing her glasses up as she nods her head. “Due to circumstances, we’ll have a nurse you there.”

There is a vague feeling in Baekhyun’s guts as he walks behind the nurse, and he grips the bunch of flowers a little tighter. He never really liked the hospital much, but then again who does? Scanning the homochromatic walls makes him shudder as he remembers the first time he was in a place like this. The memories of his mother accumulate, comes in flashes that was etched so far back in his mind, and expands in pure torture. Baekhyun shifts his eyes towards his hands and doesn’t take his attention off the purple bouquet of hyacinths, hoping that the meanings of the flowers can be accepted with the sincerity of his apologies.

“I’m glad you came to apologies.” The nurse speaks quietly as they take the elevator to the second floor. “Taeyeon doesn’t have visitors, and I think she gets kind of lonely. Even though you’re only coming to say sorry, I think she’ll be very happy.”

Baekhyun only smiles and continues to follow the nurse as she opens the door to a secluded room at the far end of the hall. Like other rooms in the hospital, the walls are pale and a window sits almost mocking the solitude. But as Baekhyun traces the surrounding, he spots the girl sitting on the bed, back facing the entrance as her dyed blonde hair falls neatly in softs curls, and he can’t help but detect a certain desolation in the way her body is slumped and how daunt and skinny she looks albeit witnessing her from behind.

The nurse knocks, even though the door has already been opened and Taeyeon spins around with a smile, virtually like she was craving for company. “Taeyeon.” The nurse calls, also smiling widely.

“Tiffany.” Taeyeon responds. “What brings you here? I thought you had other patients to look after?”

Tiffany, Baekhyun learns the nurse’s name, moves behind him, and nudges him forward. “You have a visitor today. I’ll be leaving now. I’m in a hurry.”

“Wait! A visitor?” Taeyeon calls, but by that time Tiffany has already left, scattering away quickly down the hall, disappearing in mere seconds. Baekhyun notices how she budges awkwardly on the bed and her facial expression reeks of confusion as he steps further into the room.  He has a habit of scratching the back of his neck when he’s nervous, so he does it while he walks towards her bed.

“Hi.” He greets almost too cumbersomely for his own liking.

“Who are you?” She questions with a raised brow.

Baekhyun lets his eyes wander around the room, and quietly scolds himself for the unmanly mannerism he is displaying. “I bumped into you yesterday when I was running out the entrance. I came to apologise. My name is Byun Baekhyun by the way.”

The girl is quick to figure out who Baekhyun is and nods with a small beam, “Oh it’s you.” She giggles softly and continues speaking, “I’m Kim Taeyeon. You didn’t really have to come and apologise. You did so already yesterday. It didn’t hurt much, really, just a few scratches.”

“Ah, well... I bought you flowers. They’re purple hyacinths, which mean ‘I’m sorry, forgive me.’ I hope you accept them.”

“Oh… Thanks. Just leave them on the table. I’ll tell Tiffany to put them in a vase later.”

There is sadness plaiting through her voice, and Baekhyun can’t help but feel this sense of uneasiness, and that’s when he decides to take a peek at her face. He takes down her white skin, small lips and petite nose, but as he travels to her eyes, he observes the dark circles that touch her complexion so profoundly; drawing deeply with bags that he knows should not belong to someone with such gentle features.

Then his eyes meet hers and Baekhyun suddenly becomes aware of how different they are. Not because of how they shine and sparkle, but, there is definitely something very strange. “Baekhyun, have a seat.”

Distracted, Baekhyun replies, “Sure.” He takes a place beside her on the bed and there he finally realises; he realises that even though Taeyeon is looking, she isn’t really looking. How her eyes watch him, but they cannot see. How her head only follows the sound of his footstep and she uses her ears to find where he is instead of her eyes. “You can’t see.” He mutters quietly beside her.

He surveys her as she fiddles with her fingers and breathes out deeply with a smile. It’s not really a smile, and Baekhyun knows that she’s only pretending. “You noticed.”

Baekhyun nods, even though he clarifies that she cannot tell that he is doing so. “Since when was this?”

“Since I was born.” And he can start to see Taeyeon plummet into a cannon of frustration ready to burst as she continues to speak. “And I can’t help but feel sad because I will never be able to see what flowers look like and what colours are. I’m not able to know what red or purple is and sometimes it drives me nuts because I want to know Baekhyun. I really just want to understand the concept of colours. My entire world consists of pure obscurity, and it’s all about fingers. It’s fingers. Baekhyun, it’s all about fingers.”

“What are you on about Taeyeon? I can’t seem to understand.”

“Fingers. Long thin fingers dreading holes into holes and painting black paper with black paint. It’s fingers, smearing tar onto inky canvases; coal-stained nails shredding deep into my soul, and drawing swirls into the folds of my brain. Thumbs pressing against irises. Fingers Baekhyun, fingers. Fingers and more fingers.”

Baekhyun takes a breath and realises that Taeyeon’s voice has become soft and awfully quiet as she balances on the fence between reality and desires and he’s confused and worried about her, even though they only just met. She’s staring out the window, but he comprehends she cannot see what’s happening outside. How she can’t see the trees waver in the breeze, and how autumn kisses gently on the tip of the leaves, tinting it orange and yellow, in the midst of a starry sky. How the streetlamps light along the road, casting shadows for people who walk by and the moon is crescent and shining.

Taeyeon doesn’t speak for a long time and neither does Baekhyun, and the silence feels as if it would turn black.  She fidget’s with her sleeve, and closes her eyes, letting herself calm down with the of the wind drifting through the window. Baekhyun chews on his lips and decides to speak, “From now on, I’ll come by when I can. I’ll keep you company.”

“Don’t pity me Baekhyun. You were here to say sorry; I think that’s good enough.”

“I don’t pity you. We can be friends. I want to be friends.”

Chapter One - It's kind of boring this chapter, but if you stick with me, I promise, it'll be better. Please upvote and subscribe and show your support. Thank you. :) x