"I don't fly." He realized that didn't make any sense. He had wings, why wouldn't he fly? He started laughing a little, mostly at himself. He had wings and he didn't fly. What the fuck. "I mean, I have once or twice, I guess. My parents never let me, so I tried it a few times when they were out. It was in my back yard, which I know the layout of perfectly, so I didn't have a problem with it then. It only takes me once or twice to learn the layout of the place. I know exactly how to get from here back to my room without running into anything. Unless someone moves the furniture. I freaking hate it when people move the furniture. Even after having a blind son for a dozen years, my dad would forget and adjust the coffee table or the couch or the armchair, and all it takes is the tiniest adjustment to throw me off. Having to remind your own dad that he can't move shit around because you can't see it is stupid."
He quieted abruptly, realizing that he'd started rambling. He didn't know he did that. He didn't know he rambled; he never had somebody to ramble to. He tilted his head at her, forehead crinkling. He'd been blind since he was two; he didn't know what a great number of things looked like, because he couldn't remember that far back. Sometimes things would come to him in broken little images, the tiniest flashes of memories, but for the most part? He didn't even know what blue looked like. All he had was his sense of smell, touch, hearing, and taste.
"Can I touch you?" Only a moment passed before he realized how weird that sounded, and he scrambled to clarify. "I mean, your skin. Can I touch your skin? Is that rude? I just want to see what you feel like. What it, your skin, feels like, since that's really all I have to go by. I mean, I guess I could smell you or taste you but that seems even ruder than touching you. Just your arm or something?" He paused again, then said, a little quieter, "I'll let you see my wings."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2014-06-28 01:07 am (UTC)He quieted abruptly, realizing that he'd started rambling. He didn't know he did that. He didn't know he rambled; he never had somebody to ramble to. He tilted his head at her, forehead crinkling. He'd been blind since he was two; he didn't know what a great number of things looked like, because he couldn't remember that far back. Sometimes things would come to him in broken little images, the tiniest flashes of memories, but for the most part? He didn't even know what blue looked like. All he had was his sense of smell, touch, hearing, and taste.
"Can I touch you?" Only a moment passed before he realized how weird that sounded, and he scrambled to clarify. "I mean, your skin. Can I touch your skin? Is that rude? I just want to see what you feel like. What it, your skin, feels like, since that's really all I have to go by. I mean, I guess I could smell you or taste you but that seems even ruder than touching you. Just your arm or something?" He paused again, then said, a little quieter, "I'll let you see my wings."
Holy shit, he sounded like an idiot.