Written with lightninblot on tumblr, who came up with the majority of the plot and wrote in moderation :U My parts should be recognizable enough though :y

Also this is intentionally cheesy ok.

It wasn't like you just woke up one morning and couldn't see to the other side of your room. No, it didn't happen like that. It's been a slow, painful process and you've just been dodging it until you really needed to do something about it.

Glasses were for losers, and that was pretty much you're main reason. There was no way you were going to walk around town with 5 pounds of plastic on your nose, assuming they'd be thick as hell. But when you start walking into shit in the middle of the day, you knew something was going to have to be done.

As a person graced with the genetic fuck-up known as albinism, you were already hypersensitive to light, but now your actual sight itself has gone to shit.

So you did a little research on eyewear, and it turns out that prescription sunglasses were a thing.

As much as you didn't want to, you were going to have to seek out your brother.

Your stone cold, awesome brother.

So awesome.

Puppets are awesome.

You exit your room, stepping over some junk on the way, and find yourself looking about the living room that he's claimed as his domain.

"Hey bro, I-" Your sentence is cut short by you walking straight into the back of the futon, resulting in you falling back on your ass, winded like you were just hit by a semi going 50 on the highway.

You could have sworn the futon wasn't there a second ago. Or, at least, you didn't see it a second ago.

You notice a pair of feet walking your way and squint (jesus everything is so blurry) up to see your brother, staring down at you and trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

"Bro, I need glasses."

"Well no shit, Sherlock. I didn't know it was possible to miss a futon. That's literally right in front of your face."


"Watch your fucking language."


God damn this is embarrassing. Your brother literally has to HOLD YOUR HAND and pull you along so you won't crash into anything, due to your lack of vision.

You learned this after crashing straight into a lamp post.

It wasn't even ironic.

You just looked like a dork.

You're really looking forward to getting those prescription sunglasses.

Eventually, the two of you make it there, but since you both were too distracted to set up an appointment, you had to stay in the waiting room for a bit.

You take a seat while Bro chats it up with the receptionist

Across the room from you, also sitting down, is a boy who looks about your age, maybe. If you squint hard enough, you can see a tuft of messy black hair, and two bright blue dots which you would assume would be eyes?

And it KIND OF looks like he's stary right back at you.

But that could just be your sight fucking with you, or a trick of the light.

You're called in for your exam.

Turns out that, without any special eyewear, you are nearly legally blind.

How the fuck even does that happen.

They couldn't make anything prescription with your IRONIC POINTY ANIME SHADES, so you were directed to the sunglasses section in the waiting room to choose from the display.

You end up picking out a sweet pair of aviators because why the fuck not, they were the second best to anime shades on the irony level.

Bro gives a nod of approval, so you hand them off to him to walk up and pay for the order blah blah blah.

You sit back down to wait, and hear someone beside you talking.

To you.

"I think the ones you picked out are a lot better than the ones you have now," the kid from earlier says.

And you're kind of surprised because holy Jesus, blurry boy, when did you get here. But of course you don't look surprised, nah, cool kids like you don't get surprised.

"What, so you think ironic anime shades aren't cool," you start, "I'm deeply hurt by your judgement."

"I- No! That's not what I meant at all!"

"No no, the truth has been told. Now I'm forced to live forever wearing shades that just lost about a thousand irony points. Woe is me."

"Oh man, I didn't mean to lower their irony points. How could i ever get the back?"

"Well maybe if a dork like you wore them-"

"Uh, rude. I'm not a dork."

"Sure you aren't."

"Shut up."

The unnamed boy sitting next to you is smiling, smiling so wide that it looks almost painful. You let a small smirk play on your lips, the closest thing to a smile he'd ever see from you.

You chat it out for a little while, telling each other your interests. You like photography, he likes movies. You like dead things, and hey, he likes undead things. Mostly ghosts and other paranormal lore, he informs you. He loves to watch movies. And really, really, REALLY shitty ones, as it turns out.

You're about to ask for his name, maybe even a phone number, when Bro drags you up by the arm and escorts you out the door with him before you can even protest.

"Dude what the hell was that for."

"Eh, no reason."

"Bro, no, come on, was that really necessary, like could you have waited a second so I get get his name at least? Seriously what even the fuck."

He just laughs at you.

Okay well he doesn't laugh, but you can tell he's feeling real smug about himself.

You just hope that the boy is there when you come back to pick up your glasses.

So you can see him again.

Getting back home, you're just in an overall foul mood. That is until you feel around in your jeans pocket for your iPod, but are met with a small slip of paper instead.

You sit on your bed, and hold it up to your face.


What the hell does that mean- wait a second.

You bolt over to your computer and hope to hell this works.

ghostyTrickster, it looks like a Pesterchum username. You type it in faster than you've typed anything in the passed month, and click 'Add Chum'.

Oh hey it worked. What a coincidence.

- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ghostyTrickster [GT] -

TG: yo who is this

GT: oh, it worked!

GT: you can call me john.