He was beautiful.

I had walked into the house, the one which was to be my home for the next four months, and was greeted by his beautiful face. He was my height, shaggy blonde hair, and the most intense blue eyes I had ever seen, eyes the color of the Caribbean. His large, white teeth were outlined by a thin line of pink lips. He was my idea of perfection.

"Hey!" He tugged on the front of my shirt and enveloped me in a hug. <i>Damn, he even smells good.</i> "I'm James," he mumbled into my shirt. We pulled away, much to my shegrin. "I'm Mat. Are you the only one here so far?" He grabbed my bags and began walking up the curved staircase. "So far, yeah. There's a guy from New York, two girls from Boston, another guy from Canada and another girl from Dallas, and all of their planes were delayed because of the storms. Did you have any troubles flying in?"

He tossed my bags on the bed that I assumed was his, which was covered in blue satin sheets, identical to mine. "No troubles. Las Vegas missed all of the storms, thank God." He turned to look at me, his blue eyes looking as though he was struggling to keep them focused on me. "You're from Las Vegas? I went to UNLV before.." His sentence trailed as he sat down on my bed, and I could tell there was more to James then his deep blue eyes and pearly teeth. I immediately changed the subject.

"Oh, I'm not from Las Vegas." I sat down on the bed beside him. "I'm from New Jersey, but I've been living in Sydney, Austrailia going to college." His eyes widened and his mouth gaped open. "Austrailia? Wow! This is my first time out of England, well, aside from that time in LA, so I'm pretty nervous. What's your major?" "Hotel management. You?" He stood up and walked to the window, gazing aimlessly. "It was photography before the accident."

I walked over to the window and stood beside him. "What happened?" He hesitated. "I was driving and hit a truck, and my head hit the steering wheel before the air bag went off, and it made me blind. But now I use these eye drops so I can see shapes, which is definently better than nothing. Oh look, is that a car?" He pointed to the now approaching taxi. "Let's go!" I had a feeling that there was more that he was leaving out, but I left it at that, and followed his bounding steps down the stairs.

Eventually, all of the other roommates had arrived; Malik, 20, with a scruffy appearance and deep eyes from White Plains, Aimee, 18, a petite redhead from Boston, Suni, 23, a young muslim from France, Jordan, a typical surfer kid from Canada, and Ibis, a long haired Jennifer Lopez look-a-like from Plano, Texas. We had all bonded within the first night by the outdoor fireplace; it was as if we had all known eachother in a previous life. Though we were all of different heritages, we were more alike than at first sight.

The grandfather clock in the foyer had chimed 2:00 am, its loud chimes echoing off of the colorfully painted walls, and all of the roommates beside James and I went inside, the cameras following close behind. "Hey Mat, you still there?" James had been silent the last hour of our conversation, an effect I thought of the enormous amounts of alcohol we had been drinking. Apparantly it was because of his lack of sight. "Yeah, I'm here. Do you need help to the room?" His cheeks turned a rosy pink and he seemed to sink inwardly towards himself. "Yeah. The eye drops wore off a few hours ago."

He stood up slowly and slowly lifted his hand. They were pale and freckled, with long, nimble fingers protrouding from the ends, a result of the extreme amounts of guitar playing he does, he mentioned during our soiree with the roommates. I took his hand in my right hand, and gently placed his elbow in my free hand, and led him to our room. Once we arrived, he sat down on his bed, seeming disconnected with the world around of him. I had never seen a person who could so easily be lost in his own world, but I guessed that when you could not see the world around you, you had a lot to get lost in.

"Hey Mat." His voice broke me from my thoughts. "Can you hand me my guitar? I don't remember where I put it." I lifted the guitar that was beside his bed onto mine and unlocked the heavy black case it was in. It was a beautiful guitar; unscratched and shiny, setting off its beautiful caramel color. I placed the guitar in his lap and he immediately settled his long fingers onto the ruts and strings of the guitar.

Closing his eyes, he proceeded to play the most beautiful tune I had ever heard, full of high pitched notes, falling notes, and changes of rhythm. His thin lips curled into a frown when a tear that had formed in my eye fell on his knee, and he placed the guitar beside him and wiped the remaining tears from my eyes. "Don't cry. I didn't mean to hurt you." I laughed, trying to ease the new found tension between us, and placed my hand on top of his. "Oh no, James, you didn't hurt me. That was the most beautiful song I have ever heard." As if picking up the emotion in our voices, two cameramen bounded into our room to try and catch our displays of emotion, but missed it all, as you unshook your hand from mine before they came in.

'It won't matter, there are cameras in bedrooms, also, over the beds. They saw it all. You don't have to hide, James," I said, disregarding the cameramen. James stood up in front of the bed and turned his head in my direction, a deathly frightened expression visible on his now ashen colored face. "Yes, I do. He'll kill me if he knows what I did. Oh, shit." He ran out of the room, his arms cocked in front of him. His hands slammed into the wall, but he quickly recovered his composure and continued away from the room, albeit slower.

I found him ten minutes later seated at the bar in the kitchen, his head resting in the crook of his arm. "Who is it?" His voice was muffled against the sleeve of stained red sweatshirt. "Mat. Can we talk?" He lifted his head slowly and sniffled loudly. His eyes were focused just off to the left of my eyes, and a thick film was masking their intense blue color and eyeliner of tears enhancing the saddness they possessed. "Who are you so scared of that they'll see this on camera?" He glanced in the opposite direction of me, and spoke softly.

"My boyfriend. It's just, he's over protective of me, is all. I'm afraid he'll see this and be really mad. He gets mad when I flirt with other guys and stuff. Then he does stuff like..." His eyes widened, and he coiled in towards himself, once again. I placed my hand gently on his arm, as not to scare him. "He does stuff like what, James? Has he hurt you?" He placed his head back in the crook of his arm and mumbled something I could just barely make out. "Nothing I didn't deserve."

I tightened my grasp on his arm. <i>What monster would hurt a blind man?</i> "What did he do to you, James?" He buried his head further into the crook of his arm "I-I don't want to say. Maybe some other time. I'm sorry." I let my grasp go on his arm and sighed. There was obviously much more to James' story than him being a blind guitar player, and I was determined to find out what it was. But some things took time, and this would have to be one of them. "What time is it?" "5:00 in the morning." He raised his head and looked straight ahead. "Can you take me to my bed?" I took his elbow in my hand and led him to our room.

"I'm sorry for pressuring you. When you want to talk, you can always come to me, James." He smiled slightly and stopped, looking in my direction. "That means so much more to me than you'll ever know." He sat down on his bed and tugged on my hand, turning his head towards me. "Can I ask you a question?" "Of course."

He sighed, and looked away for a moment, before looking back in my direction. "I can't see what you look like with the eye drops in, only the shape of your face, so can I explore your face with my hands?" My heart leaped. I had a feeling this was a sign of the intimacy that James was feeling towards me, but I did not want to get in over my head with how attractive, amazing, perfect I thought he was. "Yes. Please."

I closed my eyes, the beating of my heart in my ears increasing. After a few moments, I felt his hands graze against my cheeks, and then cup my face in his hands. His palms felt gentle and soft, unlike what I imagined them to be, and his fingertips were calloused and rough. Slowly, he moved his hands over my nose, inspecting every groove on my skin, every pore on my face. His fingertips moved down, gently grazing my lips. He pulled my bottom lip down with his finger, and a small moan escaped my lips. "Oh god, James."

I let my eyes open slightly, and saw a look of satisfaction on his face, before he leaned down and kissed me gently on the lips. He pulled away after a few moments and wrapped his arms around me. "Thank you for treating me like a normal person," he whispered in my ear, his hot breath dampening my skin. I pulled away and took his hand in mine, silently urging him to go on with a squeeze of my hand.

"Most people think that just because I can�t see them that I don�t have feelings. The only thing that makes me different from the next guy is that I have trouble seeing. Why would that hinder my ability to think or feel? It just angers me. I guess I�ve just warmed up to you so quickly because of the way you treat me; you treat me like a regular person, like it should be." Tears were falling from his sightless eyes and cascading down his pale skin, catching the light and making his skin illuminate. "I just, I don�t know what I did to deserve this."

I pulled his into my arms, hoping to erase the fears in his heart with the grasp of my arms around his frail body. "No one deserves what happened to you, you hear that? One thing I can tell you, though, is that whatever happened is in the past, and you can�t change that. You just have to keep living your life, keep doing what you normally would have done, keep being amazing, keep being you."

I woke up to a shrill alarm in my ear. "1st day of work!" James jumped into my bed beside me and laid down, his unfocused eyes gazing into mine. "Excited?" I stood up to stretch, and James imitated my movements, which I laughed at. "You�re just like a monkey." He stuck his tongue out at me and stood up straight. "I can�t wait; a day of lying on the beach, sleeping and getting a tan. What�s better?" He followed me into the bathroom, and I began to brush my teeth. "You�re not working?" I managed to ask in between swishes.

"Nope. Apparently it involves being able to see well, so they said I�m not allowed to work. I�m still getting paid, though. I�m supposed to type the group�s report on a new laptop with a Braille keyboard, so I�m still earning money fairly. "He turned to me and gazed for a few moments before opening his mouth to speak. "Can I ask you a question? Can you shave for me? I can�t see what I�m doing, and I�m sure I�ve got a beard by now.

"I brought his hands to his face so he could feel how scruffy his appearance had become. "Oh yeah. I must look like a gorilla by now." He chuckled, excused himself, and returned with only a white towel draped around his waist, his chest visible, along with the lined of scars scattered on it. All were different; pink, raised, scabbed. Worry washed over me. <i>Is he doing this to himself, or was it one of the roommates? They can�t be more than a week old. Was it-</i>

"Buddy, can you shave me?" I took the razor from his extended hand and stood in front of him, lathering white shaving foam on his face. I put my leg inside of his, accidentally touching his groin, and felt my boner begin to grow. The action was returned by James, whose "joystick" was very happily brushing against my leg. As I raised the razor to his cheek, he grabbed my face in his, as if to steady it, and looked deeply into my eyes. "Kiss me."

I pressed my lips to his, as gently as I could. He thrust his tongue into my mouth and wrapped it around mine, as if licking a lollipop. I lifted James up so his legs wrapped around my waist and carried him to my bed, as the towel he was wearing fell quietly to the floor. I placed him gently on the bed, still kissing him passionately, and ran my fingers through his hair. He ran his fingers down my cheeks, and nibbled on my bottom lip, as a small moan escaped my lips.

"Oh, fuck." I gently cupped my hands around his butt, and kissed his nose, but only succeeded in getting a mouthful of shaving cream. I sat up to wipe the shaving cream from my mouth, and he stood up and winked at me. "We�ll continue this later, Mat," he said, before leaving the room, a trail of toilet paper dragging behind him, still attached to his foot from out escapade in the bathroom.

Our job turned out to be coaching a midget hockey team at the local ice rink, which suited me well, as I had been playing hockey since I was five years old. I was holding the hands of one of the younger children skating beside Aimee when she spoke. "You love James, don�t you?" Seeing the obvious shock on my face, she threw her head of thick, blonde hair back and laughed. "It�s pretty obvious, you know. You follow him around like a puppy dog and you haven�t gotten very close with the rest of the roommates."

I immediately felt ashamed. She was right; I would be living with these people for the next five months; I should become close with them. "God, I�m so sorry." She cut me off with a wave of her perfectly manicured hand, almost losing her balance in the process. "Don�t be. Falling in love is more important than becoming close with a bunch of people that you probably won�t talk to after you separate. Just always make sure you�re happy, and keep him happy. He deserves to be happy."

I led the child whose hand I was holding to the exit of the rink and skated back to Aimee. When she said that James deserved to be happy, that further questioned my suspicions that he was abused, and he had told Aimee, or she could say he deserved to be happy because of his accident. "What do you mean, he deserves to be happy?" She sighed and grasped on to my arm, using it to keep her balance. "Did James tell you how he became blind?" I gazed into her dark brown eyes questioningly. "No. What�s going on, Aim?" She looked away, as if she was unsure whether to continue, but did despite her internal confliction.

"Matt, when James was in his previous relationship, his boyfriend abused him. One day, he angered his boyfriend so much that his boyfriend hit him on the head with a hammer, hard enough to give him permanent brain damage, which made him blind. Don�t ask me what James did, because he wouldn�t tell me. All he said was that he deserved what happened to him. But God, does he deserve the best." She slowed to a stop and grabbed both of my hands, looking deeply into my eyes.

"Matt, don�t make any promises you can�t keep to him. Don�t leave him. He�s crazy about you, and is beginning to reopen his heart again. Don�t do anything to make him close it up again." I thought about her words for a moment. My relationship with James was almost as though it was going to be permanent, everlasting. I didn�t know if I could deal with that yet. We had only met one week earlier, and I knew nothing about him. Still, I had never met someone and felt this way about them before; when you would do anything for the someone, even die for them; when you would ward off all of the someone�s problems; when all you dream about is spending hours at a time in the someone�s arms. I had finally realized that I was in love with James.

Realizing that I was staring blankly into space, I smiled at Aimee and thanked her for talking to me. I skated over to the exit of the rink and hobbled, as my skates were still on, over to where James was typing furiously. "Hey, it�s Matt." He looked up and smiled the kind of smile that can light up a dark room. "I know. I could smell your cologne. How is the skating going?" He kept his eyes fixed on the computer screen and continued typing, using the Braille keyboard.

"Well, I think. I�m the only one who didn�t fall." I sat down beside him and studied the lines on his face, deep with concentration. "I would never know if you were lying, you know�" He looked at me, winked, and grinned, so I returned the action with a playful shove on his arm. "I�ve been playing hockey for fifteen years. I better be good at skating!" "So have I, but you don�t see me bragging about it."

He stopped typing, closed the laptop, and put it in the black briefcase lying beside him, and then proceeded to slip his feet into the pair of ice skates resting on the floor beside his leg. He struggled to find the laces, and then looked up at me with a flustered look on his face. "Can you tie them for me? The laces, they�re just so small." After tying his laces, he walked over to the edge of the ice at the entrance of the rink and looked back to where I was still standing. "Coming? We don�t have all day."

I made my way to where he was and stepped onto the ice. James "Need help?" He looked at me and snorted, puffing out his chest. "Do I need help? Hah!" He stepped out onto the ice and in two fluent strokes, he skated to the opposite side of the rink. "Hey, Mat," he called over to me. "Need help?" I was still speechless from his performance that I just stared in awe at him. <i>I�m in awe of you. Such an angel.</i> He skated back over to me and took his hand in mine. "Just because my eyesight isn�t perfect doesn�t mean I can�t do all the things that I used to." Together, we skated the perimeter of the rink, holding hands.

------------This bottom part is what I am working on now, so don't expect to understand it.

"Who�s there?" His voice was filled with nerves and wavering. "I know someone�s there. Who is it?" He was screaming now, tears running down his cheeks. I could see the anguish in his face, feel the pain in his heart, but somehow, I couldn�t bring myself to let him know it was me who was watching him. <i>I just want to know your secrets. I just want to know what you�re going through.</i> He rolled himself into a ball, wrapping his arms around his knees and tucking his head into his lap, and began mumbling to himself, eventually beginning to convulse.

He had told me our first day of work that this had happened to him, a result of his accident, and that if it did, I should lay him down comfortably and call his name. I broke free of my thoughts and rushed over to his fragile body, lifting it onto the bed and stretching it out. I lay down beside his shaking body and whispered into his ear. "James, it�s Matt. If you can hear me, please come back. James, James." The shaking finally seized, and he looked as though he was sleeping peacefully.

"I want to know what it�s like to be you; what you see, what you feel," I whispered in his ear. "Help me understand." James�s eyes fluttered open and looked towards the ceiling. "You want to know what it�s like to be me? I see nothing, but I feel everything. I have to feel to see. I understand humans better than most psychologists, though I don�t understand myself. But no matter what I tell you or how I describe it, you�ll never know what it�s like to be me. You�ll never have to wake up one morning and wonder if you�ll be able to see that day, and you�ll�you�ll always be able to trust." Tears were cascading like waterfalls down his cheeks and onto the stained white t-shirt draped over his body.

He looked in my direction and immediately moved away from me, his feet sinking into the sand. "What?" He stuttered, as if it was hard for him to get the word out. He rose from his seated position, sand flying around, and began running away from me, his arms raised in front of him. "James! Wait!" I began to run after him, my feet picking up the dirt brown sand from the beach. He tripped on a rock and his small body tumbled to the sand, and he rolled up into a ball. He closed his eyes and began rocking back and forth, holding on to his knees.

"Oh, James," I said softly, not knowing how to treat this spectacle. "Stop." His eyes gazed blankly in my direction, and his hands were still tightly clasped around his knees. "Who are you?" I bent down by his side. "It's Matt. Your roommate." The other roommates had gathered around, but stayed their distance. Though there were seven of us altogether, the only sound heard was the crashing waves in the ocean.

"Mattie." His voice was just softer than a whisper and barely audible, but I did not need to hear his voice to know that he called me name; he groped around furiously, before clasping my hand in his. "Yes, it's me." He enveloped me in a hug, identical to the first day we met, and his body relaxed in my arms. "I..I wasn't in a car accident." He recoiled from my grasp and turned his head towards the ocean. "It was my fault. I was being so unfaithful.." His sentence trailed and I took his hand in mine. "What wasn't your fault?" His eyes, covered by a sheen film preventing him from seeing, looked off to my right.

"I didn't think he'd notice. I thought I could get away with it. I only wanted to know that I wasn't as disgusting as he told me I was. I was only dancing. But he saw. He pulled me to the car and he hit me with the steering wheel lock. I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have listened to him." Like a tortoise, he was back in his shell, cutting himself off from the world. He began rocking back and forth, repeating his previous act, but when I called his name, he made no motion that he heard me.

Malik and Jordan ran over, placing their hands beneath his buttocks and carrying his now convulsing body towards the house. Aimee called 911 while Ibis and Suni adjusted his bed, making sure that he would not fall off of it while convulsing, but I stood silently in the corner, still numb by the events that had just taken place. I had seen enough hospital shows to know that he was having a seizure, but weren't they caused by brain tumours? Everything suddenly happened so fast; the ambulance arriving, the drive to the hospital, waiting for the doctors to come back out of James' room and tell us his condition, that when they finally did, it seemed as though only five minutes ago we had been holding each other on the sand.