Ever since returning from the hospital, he didn't leave his room unless it was for meals or needed appointments. For a long time, his room was an utter mess and despite his numerous attempts to clean it, he had to gather the courage to ask for his mother's help as his own pain didn't allow him to do so.

He spent a lot of time asleep, lacking the motivation to engage with the world, or he'd sit on the terrace, gazing at the sea for hours, cherishing the view while the knowledge of potentially losing his vision in the future gnawed on him. Sometimes, he managed to push himself into writing, having several stories in progress but missing the ambition to finish them.

At night, he found solace in online chatrooms, listening to people reading their books aloud to the rest, watching movies, or engaging in casual conversations. In one of those conversational rooms, he met you, who would become his friend. He found a sense of freedom in not having to burden you with his issues, feeling like he could be... normal again.

But he didn't account for meeting you in person after a few months of talking, forced to face his situation once more. After ages, he'd go out somewhere other than a doctor's office, on top of that all on his own. Even if he was anxious, his parents encouraged him despite his worries and he made it to the designated café, even if a little late. Anxious and self-conscious, feeling as if a thousand gazes were fixed on him, he leaned on his cane as he searched for someone that would fit your description of yourself.