𝐃𝐖𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒. ─── ☾ 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐃
ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ↪ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜰꜰɪᴄᴇ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ
ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜱ ↪ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.3ᴋ ↪ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴅᴡɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴄʜʀᴜᴛᴇ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ↪ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴛᴀᴜɴᴛꜱ ɪɴ ʙᴀᴅ ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ
English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D
All of the Dunder Mifflin employees, the Scranton branch, in particular, had had a fairly quiet morning with Michael picking on them from time to time or Jim and Dwight squabbling, but even that the day started on the right foot and there was nothing that could have excited the employees until you, lost in thought and without seeing where you were going, collided with the kitchen door that would lead you to the main room of the office, causing everyone to jump in their respective seats in surprise at hearing a new blow; some of them cursed, thinking that they would win some money that day with their bet, but your clumsiness caused many of them to lose and have to distribute part of the money they had for lunch to the winners.
You had been having a little problem for a few months that had escalated to the point where they were afraid to see you driving your car, which is why Pam and Jim had offered so many times in the last month to pick you up and take you home with such that you did not cause a traffic accident even though they were going in the opposite direction to the one they had to take to go to the office. For some reason you had begun to collide with everything that was ahead, causing you to get a bump on your forehead on more than one occasion due to your sudden blows, you would break some glass in the office, and you would trip every day with any chair that gets in the way and have to use a font that is too large to view Open Office documents and have to enlarge the size of the pages due to the blurriness that you see.
"This is the last straw."
Dwight, already tired of seeing you in the same situation and seeing you get worse with each passing day, got up from his seat abruptly, almost throwing the chair to the floor and made his way through the office so he could enter the kitchen and pick you up from the floor. From the shock, he didn't know how you ended up falling to the ground and the large number of papers you had had in your hands ended up scattered on the floor.
"You have the mustard shirt. Don't you? Hey, Dwight,” you greeted as you got up from the ground, patting your knees and the back of your skirt. "Do you need something?"
"Yes, I need you to go to the doctor."
You snorted at his new attempt to make you see reason, so you just shook your head and bent down to pick up the documents that you had dropped, trying to ignore the words of your partner, who seemed to be more interested than anyone else in your health. You had never seen him that way, not even with Angela, but you hoped he would respect your decision if you didn't want to go to the doctor.
"I'm not going anywhere, Dwight. wW've talked about it before," you murmured when you were able to grab some of the papers. "I'm fine, really," you assured before leaving the papers on the kitchen counter, although, due to a little miscalculation, you didn't realize that you were a little far from the piece of furniture and the papers fell to the floor again. " I did it on purpose. I don't understand why you are so worried."
"I worry because you're my partner," he commented, emphasizing this last word. "You may have myopia, hyperopia, astigmatism, chronic dry eye, you might be pregnant, cataracts, glaucoma, age-related macular degeneration, diabetic retinopathy or many other diseases."
You were completely stunned when he gave you all the possible explanations for your lack of vision and, although you couldn't have all those diseases for obvious reasons, you did not deny that there was an explanation for your 'blindness' and is that your family, the vast majority on your mother's and father's side, had suffered from nearsightedness and astigmatism and nearly all had worn glasses since childhood or early adolescence, but you didn't seem to be struck by that problem until a couple of years ago.
"Ok, aside from the fact that it seems that you have investigated what could be happening to me and that you have exaggerated a bit about the diseases, I can assure you that I may have myopia and astigmatism, but I don't have the rest if I don't even have a sexual partner in the last month. How do you expect me to be pregnant?" You questioned, raising an eyebrow as you heard him lower his voice a couple of tones.
"I don't know, according to Angela, the Virgin Mary got pregnant by a dove and didn't even have sex with her, so…" He murmured, making both of you stay silent for a few seconds which your companions began to feel uncomfortable.
"Well, I doubt I'm as pure as Mary to have become pregnant with God," you commented. "I have a family record and I may need to go to the ophthalmologist, but it's not so bad that I go and waste my time."
"You just said you may have nearsightedness and astigmatism, so you can't see well," Schrute pointed out. "Also, it fits with you being unable to distinguish much of what's around you, but I'm also going to assume you're farsighted."
"Dwight, by God, I'm not blind," you complained. "Do you want me to go to the eye doctor? What do you want?"
"Well, yes," he affirmed.
"Very well, then I'll make an appointment for a consultation and we'll see which of the two is right."
And, God, you were blind.
Dwight, knowing that he was right and that he had to rub his victory all over your face, accompanied you to the consultation when it was given to you a couple of weeks later, mainly because it was better to drive you and have someone with you, discovering with you you who urgently needed glasses after seeing that you had myopia, astigmatism and hyperopia. In short, you could not see well at a distance or up close, and you had to add to the fact that you had blurred vision thanks to astigmatism.
A few days later, when they finally told you that your glasses were ready so you could take them home and try them on however you wanted, you found yourself with a new problem that had to do with how they fit you, that is, you had to adjust to having glasses in front of your eyes and you had to start getting comfortable to wear them for the rest of your life. They told you that it was better to wear glasses because, after all, seeing so badly was causing you problems and not only at a work level but also personally.
Dwight, as an expert in wearing glasses and having tried contact lenses out of simple curiosity, told you that it was much better to wear the former than the latter, it was much more comfortable and practical, so you would have to wear the glasses before the contact lenses for a year to let your eyes adjust to your new and improved vision, of course, that meant you had Schrute behind you all day to check the hours you spent with them and without them. The use of the computer limited you a bit, even if you had to use it to work, and he made you use your glasses intermittently so that your eyes would not tire too much.
Having that vision problem was wearing you out mentally and all because Schrute treated you like a little girl.
"I hate them," you murmured as you took off your glasses again, having to close your eyes tightly to try not to hurt them because of the sudden vision change. "I don't understand how they can take them."
"Well, it's been a week since you've been wearing them, not everyone gets it in seven days," Jim mentioned, trying to calm you down seeing you so listless. "You're doing good, take your time."
"I just can't take that much time," you commented. "I avoid as much as possible that Michael looks at me, I put up with Kelly's giggle, and Dwight is getting on my nerves with his stupid clock and the beep that I think I hear even in my house."
"It can't be that bad," he denied, seeing how you raised an eyebrow at him sceptically. "He texts you when we get home, right?"
"Even when I'm sleeping."
Jim shrugged, and as he glanced over at Dwight's chair, he couldn't help but smile.
It was true that the beet farmer had tried to get close to you in every possible way, he would have his reasons, but seeing how he tried to help you adapt to your new glasses, made others understand that he was more than interested in you and that this was his way of saying "hey, I'm here, listen to me, I want to start a romantic or sexual relationship with you"; the mere fact of imagining those words coming out of his partner made Jim shiver.
With a snort, not being able to clearly distinguish the figure that seemed to enter the office through the kitchen door, you put on your glasses, meeting the surprised look of Michael, who had been speechless to see you, after a week, with glasses on. He had seen them on your table, he assumed they were for some disguise, or they were the ones without glass, but when he saw how your eyes were getting much bigger because of the glass, he couldn't help but quickly approach you and point at you like you're a freak.
"What's that?" Michael asked, who had stood in front of you and was still pointing at you.
"What is what?" You questioned back, confused and somewhat afraid of the words that could come out of the mouth of your boss.
"The glasses," he indicated. "I've never seen anything that big, oh my, you should try taking them off so you don't look like an alien."
You felt a sudden weight on your shoulders when you heard him say that.
"Michael, I don't see anything without them," you mentioned. "The oculist has told me that I have to wear them, otherwise, I can worsen my vision even more and that he does not recommend that I wait long to use them, I cannot take them off."
"Well, I think you should because look," he said as he took your hand to get you up from your seat, unable to do so due to your strong grip on the armrest. "You're making it difficult for me."
"Michael, why don't you leave her? The glasses are very flattering on him,” Pam spoke up, nervous as her knuckles were beginning to turn white from the grip. "She is so pretty."
"Pam, you just have bad taste," Michael pointed out. "Who is going to love a woman with glasses so big they make her eyes look like two saucers?" He said between laughs, even seeing how everyone remained silent and looked at him seriously. "I can't be the only one who sees it."
At this point you felt like you were going to fall apart, literally, you were one step away from leaving the office, but your final decision came when Dwight appeared on the scene with two cups of coffee, who was smiling happily at you, but when he saw the situation that was happening he just frowned as he didn't understand anything.
"Dwight!" Michael exclaimed as he moved your chair, finally having found a way for the rest to see you. "Does she look ridiculous with these glasses? It looks like ET."
"Michael, that's offensive," Oscar said quickly.
"No," you denied quickly, getting up from his seat and turning to look at your partner. "You know what? You're right. Maybe I should take off my glasses."
"What?" Schrute questioned, pushing his way through the office chairs to stand in front of you and stop your idea. "You need the glasses, you will not see without them, and you can have an accident."
"So what's the difference, Dwight?" You asked, already fed up with the constant "orders" of him for you to use them. "I've been knowing since I was thirty years old that I can't see well. You don't know how many times I've been able to fall down a ladder so far, but I've always wanted to avoid glasses for this shitty situation because I've seen them in my family," you explained, forgetting for a moment you were in the office and focusing all your anger on him. "Everyone in my family wears glasses and everyone has suffered from comments as horrible as Michael's, if not worse, and I didn't want to go through this."
Dwight looked you straight in the eye, searching for the right words to answer you, but when he saw you take them off and drop them carelessly on your desk he paled, thinking it was too late to change your mind, and when he watched you As you headed toward the kitchen, she became even more worried.
"Can you go alone?" Jim asked, willing to help you get safely to the room next to the office.
“I don't need your help, Halpert."
Everyone was speechless when you said his last name because, although it was true that you were not a very patient person and that you tended to get angry quickly, you had only spoken that way to others when you were angry or sad and, seeing what you saw, it was obvious that you had a fusion of both emotions. You were nervous about Dwight, Michael had made you feel like anything but a person and the pitying looks from your co-workers hadn't helped you at all even though they had tried to stop your boss.
Silence settled in the office as you left it to go into the women's bathroom, everyone looking back at Michael and Dwight, who seemed to have gotten into their thoughts.
"Excuse me, guys," said Toby, who had walked into the office without attracting anyone's attention. "Can someone tell me what happened? (Y/N) has pushed me when I was going to the bathroom."
"You stay out of it, Toby, it's your fault I'm like this," Michael falsely pointed out. "Because you have raped her."
"Michael, you have an employee crying in the bathroom. What have you done?"
Those words seemed to wake something up in Dwight, who left the coffee cups on your desk before grabbing your glasses and running towards the bathroom, inadvertently pushing Toby down the path and not hearing any complaints from the females at seeing him enter the bathroom. His bathroom.
Schrute could hear your sobs, and your foot quickly hit the floor, causing him to feel a strong pinch in his chest, so he went to the only bathroom stall and stood in front of the door waiting for you to open. He could do it, but he didn't want to alert you and make you even angrier with him.
"You are not going out? "He asked, getting your attention.
"Nope."
Dwight snorted.
"I have your glasse. You have to put them on for the next hour," he warned.
"Break them, I don't want them," you murmured, covering your mouth to prevent your sobs from being heard. "I knew this would happen, I look horrible in them."
"We all look bad at first with the glasses," Dwight commented." I have been one of the only people in my family who has used them. If you study my family tree you will know that almost no Schrute has vision problems," he mentioned. "I grew up in a big family, you know that very well, but you don't know the number of times I was disowned for wearing glasses saying I was soft or that I would never be able to raise a family with a genetic flaw like that, saying that my attractiveness decreased drastically because of it and that there would be no woman who would like to be with me because of them and that I am not bad at all and I have fornicated with as many women as I have wanted.
"I didn't need to know that last one," you murmured as you tried to wipe the tears from your cheeks.
"What I'm getting at is that it's not easy to be different," he spoke. "People will always try to find a fault with you, even if it isn't, and try to make fun of it out of envy or rudeness, but in Michael's case it's just plain stupid,” he continued. "Your glasses are huge, and what happens? My nose, for example, is very small, it's dwarf compared to the rest of my face. I'm disproportionate, I'm aware of it and I live with it, I don't beat myself up for being different but I use that unique feature of me and highlight it," he commented. "Your eyes are going to be big in these glasses, they'll look like bowling balls, but they're pretty and it almost looks like you're in heaven when I see them."
Dwight was surprised to see how the door of the cubicle opened, allowing to see your afflicted face completely red from crying, approaching you until your legs were touching, squatting so that he could be at eye level with your face and you would not feel so intimidated by his presence.
"You know I like your nose," you murmured as you slowly extended your hand to his face, being careful not to sting one of his eyes, but it was his that guided you to his cheek, letting you caress it gently as your thumb moved. It drifted slowly towards the tip of his nose.
"I know," he affirmed, extending his hand to your face to gently wipe the tears from your cheeks. "You have to get used to wearing glasses."
"I don't want Michael to laugh at me again."
"I'll take care of that, don't worry," he assured us as he took your glasses out of his shirt pocket. "I just want to see those eyes that hypnotize me and take me to a world full of wonders."
A short chuckle escaped you, finally managing to put a smile on your face, before tapping Dwight's shoulder playfully.
"Don't be so cheesy, you know it doesn't hit you and then you feel disgusted with yourself," you said before taking your glasses and putting them on so you could see Schrute perfectly. "Thanks."
Dwight leaned forward to kiss you, allowing you to be happy for the seconds that the kiss lasted.
"Sorry to cut us off but I think we should go out," he murmured, sliding his hand from your cheek to your knee to gently caress and squeeze.
"Or we could stay here a little while longer, just a little. You still have to watch me for an hour, whoever wears the glasses, right?"
Dwight smiled widely and nodded, feeling very happy to see the pearls that were your eyes shine with intensity.
