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He bent over the sleeping figure breathing very quietly and deeply, watching the purple glow on his misty face. The lighting is dim, but bright enough for a seeing person, but absolutely useless for Day – he sees only glimpses of soft, soothing light.
Mork must have wounds on his face after what happened, and Mork didn't tell Day about it so as not to bother. Huh, Day exhales, it's just him that's bothering everyone.
He accidentally bumped into a random guy in a bar when he was going to the toilet unaccompanied while Mork was performing on stage. Damn it, he knew this bar like the back of his hand and nothing could go wrong. Only if you can see. Only if you know where you're going and you won't run into anyone. The minimum number of conditions that Day did not meet due to his blindness.
He bumped into someone, but immediately apologized, making wai in the direction of an obscene word that broke from somewhere from the side. The voice of the one Day bumped into gave out a strong alcoholic intoxication and a passion for conflict.
"Can't you see where you're going? Are you blind or what?"
Day lowered his hands from his chest, clenching them into fists, starting to burn with indignation. He hated it when it was spat in his face. It's like he's a monkey in a cage, which you can only stare at, pointing with your finger. With a small, still working part of his mind, he realized that the guy was drunk, and he wasn't much better in condition, and he should have let it go, but he just spat it out:
"Yes, fuck, I'm blind!"
"So what the hell are you doing hanging around here? Find yourself a dog to lead you by the leash," the drunk guy threw, snorting derisively. It sounds like he's collecting drool in his mouth to spit.
Day is sick of this man, of his arrogance, of his disregard, but, damn it, he's drunk, he should leave and not get involved, but Day's brakes are failing.
Listening to the vile sound of his voice, Day swings at random and, apparently, hits the bastard in the chin area. His fist ached instantly, but he couldn't help but admit that he was relieved for a second. Yes, he is blind, but he can still stand up for himself. But his triumph was short-lived, because after all, his visibility was limited, unlike a drunk guy with a nasty mouth full of saliva.
He hits Day right in the solar plexus, from which he is thrown aside, and he lands noisily on his shoulder blades. The blow wasn't strong enough to take his breath away, but enough to take his concentration away.
Mork, seeing this out of the corner of his eye, immediately jumps off the stage and helps Day up.
"Are you okay? Is everything okay?"
And he hears a haughtily mocking:
"Oh, there's a doggie for you."
Day feels Mork letting go of him.
“So you want to fight? So why the hell are you going after someone who can’t compete? Come on, bastard, if you really can’t wait to leave here with a beaten face.”
Day hears fussing and sighing. He hears a crowd that started yelling, someone even moved towards them to separate them. Oh, it's his fault, he shouldn't have gotten angry and started all this.
Day fumbles through the air, trying to find Mork.
“Khun, khun, please leave it alone. Take me Home!"
He finds him, inhaling, clutching a flannel shirt that smells of cheap cigarettes. The drunk guy is held by help who arrives, trying to take him away from Mork.
“Please,” there’s desperation in Day’s voice. "Please take me home."
Mork comes to his senses, hearing the plea in his voice. Day feels an arm around his shoulders.
"Let's go home."
Mork helps Day into the taxi, holding his head so he doesn't hit himself, then walks around the car and sits in the back seat next to him. He grabs Day's forearm to signal that he's nearby.
“What happened, khun?” asks Mork.
“It’s my fault,” Day mutters, shaking his head frantically. “I was furious, although I should have been used to it a long time ago.”
"What did he say?" Mork insists, squeezing his hand slightly to encourage him.
“I bumped into him and apologized,” Day exhaled, breathing heavily, as if going back to that moment in front of the bathroom door. “And he said, “Are you blind?” Day began to breathe harder, spitting out the following phrase: “And I said, “Yes, I’m blind,” and he said, find yourself a guide, and I...”
Day stops, blinking away tears from his eyelids and feeling a hand pulling him by the top of his head and placing it against his head, connecting them at the temples.
“Shhh, forget about this asshole. Forget about all the assholes. They do not understand. I understand you, okay? I am your guide, caretaker, cook, playmate - I will be whatever you want. No assholes today, okay?”
Day listens to his passionate voice, trying to blink away his tears, and grins, but sounds like a sob, causing Mork to stroke the top of his head more intensely.
“Okay, khun,” Day agrees. “No assholes.”
He allowed Mork to stay with him overnight, as a thank you for the inconvenience caused to him. Day passes out almost immediately as soon as his head touches the pillow. Alcohol and a lot of physical exertion in the form of a long walk affected him – he had long been unaccustomed to this. Therefore, Day was unable to control where Mork would find a place to sleep.
He wakes up after a while because he is terribly thirsty. A night light is turned on in the room, shining with a soft lilac color. Day slaps the bed, trying to figure out which side he fell asleep and his slippers and gropes for a small breathing slide. He pulls his hand away, ready to call his mom, but then he remembers that mom is not at home, but Mork, on the contrary, has asked for a bed for the night. Day moves around the blanket in confusion and realizes that his words are true and Mork has not come up with anything better than to go to Day's bed. He sighs and stops. Inhales more. And more. And he feels a familiar smell coming from his right. Day runs his nose, feeling a familiar scent. It's his shower gel. So Mork took a shower before getting into his bed. Day thinks that he himself would also do well to do it before that. Carefully getting out of bed, Day feels the fish slippers on the floor with his feet and shuffles along the purple light towards the bathroom.
He tries to turn on the water not too loudly so as not to wake Mork and with a sense of relief directs a stream of water towards himself, washing off this whole terrible evening, the culprit of which he has become.
After tidying himself up, he left the bathroom and quietly opened the closet, counting out the right shelf on which there were loose T-shirts that could be used for sleeping.
Day shuffles towards Mork, intending to turn off the night light, but stops, and, yielding to curiosity, bends down. He stood up for him again without even thinking, he put himself up because some arrogant boy was offended by the truth. He shouldn't have framed him like that. He will definitely apologize for it in the morning.
Day runs his nose before straightening up and catches the scent of his shower gel coming from Mork again. There's something strangely intimate about sharing the same scent as yours with someone.
He shakes his head, not understanding where he got such thoughts at all. This is a fairly common smell, and this gel can be found in any store. But it's one thing to know this, and it's completely different when someone uses your own bottle for this.
Day scratches his neck, feeling a bit like an idiot, blaming his condition on previously drunk alcohol. And yet he is in no hurry to go back to sleep, continuing to stick around with Mork and not even trying to straighten his back, remaining in a half-bent state.
Purple highlights walked across the vanished face, reminding Day that Mork had injuries on his face, in addition to those he had recently received on the market. Did he process them before going to bed or just went to bed?
Day leaned over a little, as if hoping to see something in this purple veil, forgetting that the injuries are almost the same color and are unlikely to stand out much against this background.
Don't you want to know what I look like? Mork asked him once and Day answered him no at that time.
For some reason, that's exactly what Day thought when he got very close to him.
One palm distance, that's how Day described to him his ability to see.
And maybe he wanted to make sure that this was the case, or maybe he still intended to consider his injuries, or maybe, drawing terrible injuries in his head, he became interested in what Mork's broken nose, Mork's black eye, bruise on Mork's cheekbone, bruised Mork's lips…
Maybe that's why he held out his index finger, trying to examine it.
The purple veil is too thick, and the face is too hazy, but as Day descended lower, almost touching the bridge of Mork's nose with his index finger, the more the face began to take on clearer outlines, but still insufficient to make a complete sketch. He did notice the broken corner of his lips, but he didn't see what those lips were like. The nose was neat and, it seems, never even broken. Day even mentally thought how lucky Mork was, given his ability to run into fights. And Day also has time to think that if he wants to make a complete portrait of Mork, he should remove his hand and bend even lower, and this threatens that he will suffocate from the smell of his shower gel coming from Mork, that he has already begun to feel tickling in his nose from him. If he stayed any longer, he would definitely sneeze.
Day staggered back, but felt a sudden movement grab his forearms and pulled down. He didn't even have time to understand anything, and his nose was a millimeter from the tip of Mork's nose. The visibility of the person in front of him became so clear that Day was stunned by it. It was almost like the effect of 10 seconds of his eye drops. Almost.
"So you want to know what I look like or not?" Day was doused with heat from Mork's slightly parted lips, from which the smell of mint toothpaste emanated. His toothpaste.
Mork lay with his eyes closed, clutching Day's forearms tightly, and he was lost in guessing how long Mork had not slept.
Day is silent, not trying to say anything and not trying to free himself. He is too stunned, thinking that the tip of Mork's nose is too purple and his nose is probably also very purple, and if two purple noses rub against each other a little, how much more purple will they become? The idea is the stupidest, but he's still a little drunk, right?
Mork opens his eyes and Day notices how the corner of his lips moved upward from the uninjured side, drawing a grin.
"Why would I do that?" Day tries not to look stunned at being caught red-handed. And who caught it! Mork! With my eyes closed! Day can't be that unlucky in his unseeing life. Not so much, please.
"You tell me," Mork laughs, slightly tilting his head on the pillow to one side, as if moving behind his grin. Where his grin goes, so does he.
Day shakes his head, pouting stubbornly.
"I wanted to look at your wounds."
"Ah, so," Mork nods thoughtfully, as if he accepts such a reason, but the grin that has not disappeared says otherwise. "How did you want to watch?" If you don't see it, it wasn't said out loud, but it was meant loudly, and, damn it, Day knew it was a fiasco. But he wasn't going to give up. Not now, when he wasn't trying to compete with a drunk guy at the toilet, whom he didn't know and was angry at. He didn't want to accept defeat when Mork was grinning like that, knowing he was right and waiting for Day to confirm it.
The silence dragged on, but Day did not know how to get out of this difficult situation, into which he had driven himself again today. Hoping that the thought would come to him immediately after that, he licked his lip tensely, but this only made the situation worse. He was thirsty, and Mork tightened his grip on his forearms.
Without waiting for an answer, he took Day's hands and put them to his face.
"What are you doing?" Day muttered softly, feeling a strange tingling on his palms and realizing that it was Mork's stubble beating against his skin.
"Helping you with the examination of my wounds in a natural way for you," Mork replied. It seems that this stubborn corner of the lips will never go down again, and it is superglued to Mork's face.
Day swallows noisily, realizing that if he does this, he will accept complete defeat, so he does what he did before.
"Ouch!" Mork twitched convulsively when Day's finger touched the fresh wound on his lip.
Day takes advantage of the moment and hastily straightens up, taking a step away from Mork and allowing himself the first winning smile for this whole tense evening.
"You're a cheater, khun," Mork's offended voice sounds from the bed, rubbing his lip.
Day giggles nastily as he walks around the bed and, reaching the desk, he finds a bottle of water on it. Satisfying thirst, he drains it half.
"Don't you want to share it with me?" he hears a touchy question.
Day wanted to say that he had shared a lot with him today, but decided to keep silent, feeling that he would go on the offensive again, which would obviously be lost. Well, no, today he will fall asleep with a winner's smile.
"You can do it yourself."
Mork clicked his lips.
"You don't care about me at all"
Day, who had managed to lie down on the bed and almost covered himself with a blanket, froze with a cloth in his hand.
"You're the one taking care of me," he reminded Mork.
"I can't argue with you here," Mork replies, and Day covers himself with a blanket, waving his arms and making a "tudu" sound, as if trumpeting fanfare in the background, celebrating his victory. "But I wasn't kidding: I can be anything for you, just ask."
"Apparently mom pays you handsomely if you're ready for this." Day jokes, but in response he hears a serious:
"Money has nothing to do with it."
Day waits for the continuation, but it does not come. Mork's serious tone suggests that Day's joking phrase touched him a little. Day fidgets a little on the mattress, thinking about what to say, because there seems to be awkwardness in the air, but Mork returns his voice to a cheerful note.
"So did you like the way I look?"
"Your nose is very neat..." Day started to say, but quickly shut up, putting his palm to his mouth, although he was already too late.
To his right, he hears a contented "I knew it" and a contented "tudu", which was issued by Day a few minutes ago. Damn, he still lost to him. It's Mork who's not playing fair, not Day. He pressed for pity and Day let his guard down. He won't fall for this bait again.
Day slapped the blanket-wrapped Mork at random, and although the blow could not cause him any harm, he artistically whimpered, depicting convulsions on the mattress. Covering his mouth with his hand so as not to laugh, Day turned on his other side, towards the desk, with his back to Mork.
"Good night." he hears behind him and saying a quiet "uh-huh, and thanks for today," Day closed his eyes.
He sees a vague image surrounded by a violet glow, among which cherry lips are clearly outlined, because of the lighting, eyes - two black bright beads and a nose, very neat, without flaws, such a bright color, because Day rubbed his nose against it, and it became a completely unimaginable shade. Day thinks what kind of shade it is and nothing comes to mind.
Half asleep, he mutters softly, "Maybe ultra violet."