to preface, this is based on a true story in a sense. my friend, L, is legally blind. her vision is not as bad as Harry’s in this fic but she can only see really well in bright light. any kind of darkness, even early morning daylight or late evening twilight, and her eyes can only pick out splotches of dark. she went walking one day, was on the phone and didn’t pay attention to steps. she then caught her toes on a large crack in front of her house, went down hard, and had a cute neighbor come to her rescue.
love is blind and lovers cannot see
It’s then that he finds the raised cracked in the sidewalk.
Like an elephant being tripped or a mortal angering the Greek god Zeus, Harry falls. Harry falls hard. He barely has time to get his arms in front of him before he’s flat on the ground. He feels the torn flesh on his palms and knees almost immediately, a sharp pain on his chin where he’s scraped it up, too.
It would be the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to him, he thinks to himself as he pauses on the ground to catch his breath, but there’s luckily no one around to have witnessed it.
“Shit, man, are you okay?”
Of course, Harry thinks to himself. “I’m good,” he says out loud, ignoring the pain in his hands as he pushes himself up to his knees before standing carefully. “Sorry if I scared you.”
A wet nose finds the edge of his shorts. Harry startles but doesn’t react any more than to stand up straighter as the new voice says, “Rhino, leave him alone, yeah? I’m sorry, he’s normally shy around strangers. You can just push him away, he won’t bite.”
The man’s voice is somehow familiar, Harry thinks as he struggles to place it. There’s a distinct accent there, the ends of his words trailing out and his vowels over emphasized. It’s one he’s sure he’s never heard before in his life but reminds him of something nonetheless.
“I can’t really see him to push him away,” Harry says. He offers the back of his hand for the dog to sniff, smiling when he feels his short muzzle rub against him and tuck under his palm as if Rhino is encouraging Harry to pet him. “I might be bleeding, little guy,” Harry apologises. “I can’t really pet you right now.”
“You can’t see- oh,” the voice says, a bit closer now. “Shit, I didn’t realise. Rhino, get back, leave the man alone.”
“It’s fine, I love dogs,” Harry says, finding Rhino’s ear and rubbing at it with the tips of his fingers.
“I’m fine. This is my house, I’ve got a first aid kit inside.”
“How do you know it’s your house?”
Harry pauses, trying to think of a less-humiliating way to describe what he had been doing when he’d fallen, and the lad must take his silence as offence.
“I didn’t mean- oh, bloody hell I’ve miffed this a bit. Don’t answer that, mate, s’alright.”
“I was looking for the crack.”
Now it’s the stranger’s turn to be silent, clearly unsure what to say. Harry realises how it sounds and hurries to clarify.
“Not, like- not the drug, kind. I don’t do dru- well, I smoke pot sometimes but Louis says I’m not supposed to tell people that because they might be police. And not even, like, undercover police like in the books or movies or stuff. You could be standing in front of me in uniform with the hat and badge and everything and I wouldn’t even know.” Harry doesn’t even recognise that he’s rambling, his words coming slowly but in such a stream-of-consciousness that he doesn’t know what he’s saying until it’s already out in the air. “Erm, you’re not a police officer by any chance, are you?”
He’s sure he hears the muffled sound of laughter, as if the man is covering his mouth and trying to mask it. It makes Harry grin wider when he hears, “Nah, mate. I’m not a cop. Your mate Louis is right though, probably shouldn’t admit certain things to strangers.”
“Well, next time I’ll do better. But, yes, no,” he says, tripping over his words now. “I was looking for the crack in the sidewalk. It’s pretty unique and it’s right in front of my house so I figured I could use it to get back.”
“That’s clever. I really do think you’re bleeding, though. Can I please take a look?”
Harry holds out his hands in offering, suppressing a shiver when he feels the lad’s fingers circle his wrists. His hands are moved up and then down before the contact between them ends and Harry’s left holding his arms out with no support.
“What’s the prognosis, doc, can I keep my hands?” Harry asks, smiling wide when he hears a snort of laughter, nothing muffled about it this time.
“Think you’ll be alright, yeah,” he hears.
Harry’s wrist and fingers are tingling where the stranger had touched him to inspect his hand. He attributes it to misplaced stinging from the scrape on his palms.
The sounds in the neighborhood are shifting around them. Harry hears a car door close, then the engine start with a roar. There are more birds waking up to the day, a gush of wind rustles the leaves of his oak tree high above his head, and the sound of Rhino panting at his feet all make up the things he can sense around him. He hears first a footstep and then the sound of Rhino whining. There’s a click of metal on metal.
“We were just heading out for our walk,” the stranger says. Harry doesn’t understand why his heart beats faster at the boy’s apologetic tone.
“I didn’t mean to keep you,” he says.
“No, you didn’t. Rhino doesn’t usually leave the porch without me but we saw you fall and he took off. I hope we didn’t scare you.”
“If I got scared by everything I couldn’t see,” Harry says seriously, “I wouldn’t ever leave my house.”
“S’ too deep for six in the morning.”
Harry grins, hard enough that he can feel his dimple pressing deep into his cheek. “I’ll let you continue on your walk,” he says, mock bowing. “Good bye, Rhino dog,” he says, rubbing his hands on Rhino’s ears with more vigor now that he knows he isn’t bleeding. “Good bye, Rhino dog’s owner.”
The words trail out and he blinks slow, waiting for what he hopes is the man’s next response.
“I’m Zayn,” the voice says.
“Harry.” He holds out his right hand and inhales.
The press of a warm, work-hardened hand against his palm forces his exhale. The tingling sensation is back and Harry doesn’t try to blame it on his fall this time. He holds Zayn’s hand for a few seconds too long before letting their connection fall.
“Have a good day,” he says, turning and heading up his drive.
Besides his footsteps- slow and careful as he counts the pavers up to his front steps- he doesn’t hear any other new sounds. When his hand is on his front door punching in the code, only then does he hear the jingle of a dog’s leash and the rhythmic footfalls of Zayn and Rhino walking away.
