Chapter Text
John was having a terrible morning. His brother had used the last of his shampoo before John could shower. The barista at the coffee shop had made his coffee wrong, making him late for class. He’d missed every. Single. Light. on his way to the parking deck. To top it all off, he’d stepped in goose poop the second he stepped onto the sidewalk.
His first class of the day had done nothing to calm him down. John was still fuming as he left the lecture hall, glaring at his phone as he tried to order lunch. Grubhub was doing its damndest to keep him and everyone else from eating, and John was just about ready to smash his phone. He was tapping angrily at the screen as he walked, not looking where he was going, and perhaps he should have expected that he would run into someone.
He did not expect it.
John grunted as he slammed into something. He looked down and saw a young man sprawled on the ground in front of him. “Watch where you’re going, idiot.” He snapped, trying to sidestep the guy and continue on his way. A small guilty part of him wanted to reach down and apologize, but his bad mood won out.
“You watch where you’re going!” The man snapped back. Oddly enough, he had a British accent, which pissed John off more for some reason. He was patting around on the ground for something, and John spotted a white cane lying a few feet away. His bad mood instantly cooled into rock hard guilt. John bent down and moved it closer to the man’s hand, and he climbed to his feet with a huff. “It’s not my fault you ran into me.”
“Sorry.” John muttered. He watched as the man patted his pockets as if to make sure he didn’t drop anything. There was a small box lying on the ground by their feet- a lighter. John picked it up and held it out. “Uh…your lighter.”
“Where is it?” The guy sounded frantic, and John was briefly taken aback. It was just a lighter, albeit a kind of nice one. It was made of silver metal, and there was an inscription on one side. This too shall pass.
“It’s in my hand. Uh, here.” John grabbed the other man’s hand and put the lighter in it. The man felt over the inscription on the side and sighed, and put it in his pocket. “Sorry.” John repeated.
“Yeah, well, look at where you’re walking next time.” The guy said, but his voice was lighter than it had been before, as if John had redeemed himself ever so slightly. He adjusted his grip on his cane and walked off, the sound of ball rolling across the bricks echoing in John’s ears for the next few minutes after the guy disappeared.
As soon as the guy was out of earshot, John kicked the sidewalk. A flash of pain ricocheted up his leg and he yelped, his bad mood returning with a vengeance. “Shit!” John growled, shaking his foot out and testing it gingerly. He made a wordless sound of frustration and stalked off towards the student union, where his terrible lunch was doubtlessly waiting for him.
He resolutely ignored the way his heart was fluttering.
When Jon got back to his dorm, his twin brother was sitting on his bed, eyes fixed on the door. As soon as the door was closed, he spoke. “You’ve met someone.”
“Fuck off, Yellow.” John snapped back, dropping his bag on the floor and stalking over to his side of the room. Yellow, or Aurelius, as was his given name, was stupidly, ruthlessly inquisitive with every aspect of John’s life, had been since they were kids and probably would be until the day one of them died. He believed the whole story that their dad had repeated every week without fail, and it made him insufferable.
“You did.” Yellow’s mouth twisted into a funny curve, as if he couldn’t figure out if he wanted to be pleased with himself for being right or angry with John for daring to stoop so low as to succumb to basic human emotion. “You met someone and you like him.”
“It doesn’t matter if I like him.” John grumbled, flopping down onto his own bed and staring at the ceiling above him. “He probably thinks I’m a jerk who hates disabled people or something.” Yellow made a curious sound and John found himself spilling the whole story. “I ran into him and he fell over and I told him to watch where he was going, but then I saw he was blind, and…” he trailed off, waving a hand at the ceiling.
“You’re a moron.” Yellow said matter of factly. “He definitely hates you.” John flipped him off with the hand he still had up in the air, but hearing his brother’s confirmation made his heart sink. He didn’t want the guy to hate him. He rolled over and groaned into his pillow, cursing the weird squirmy feelings in his gut.
The mattress squeaked as Yellow sat down next to him. He stiffly patted John on the back. Yellow was bad at feelings. “Maybe he won’t hate you forever.” Yellow said in a tone that made it clear he thought that John’s new sort-of crush would hate him forever.
“You’re actually the worst.” John muttered into his pillow. “I’m dropping out and running away from this stupid family.” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.
“Don’t say that.” Yellow hissed. “You and I are part of something much bigger than your juvenile crush on some pathetic idiot.” There was a religious fire in his eyes that John usually only saw in his father’s; then again, Yellow had always believed everything their father had spent their childhoods preaching down their throats. “We are pieces of the King himself, and we don’t have time for foolish conquests.” Yellow spat the last word as if it tasted foul in his mouth, getting to his feet and pacing around their small room. “You’re better than him in every way, John.”
A normal person would’ve said something like there’s plenty of fish in the sea or you can do better than them or something like that. John knew Yellow loved him, but sometimes his brother made him so…tired. “Okay, Yellow.” He said into his pillow just to get him to stop his rant. Yellow huffed and began muttering under his breath, but at least he wasn’t lecturing John.
He rolled onto his side and stared at the wall, aimlessly fiddling with a strand of his hair. Logically, John knew his chances of ever seeing the blind guy again were fairly low; campus was big and had a lot of students. Even if he did, the guy probably wouldn’t remember him. And if he did remember John, what would he say? Hello, nice to see you again, random guy who tripped me and yelled at me?
John smushed his face back into his pillow, resigning himself to an afternoon spent sulking in his room. With any luck, tomorrow would be better.