Just A Spark [boyxboy]

I pulled a pillow over my head and groaned. "Go away sun," I said, my voice muffled against my mattress.

"Rio, are you still asleep?"

My dad's voice floated over to me and I tightened my grip on my pillow. Maybe if I played dead, he would go away.

"Rio, come on, get up. It's almost noon," dad said, shaking me. He grabbed the pillow and yanked it out of my hands. "Up."

"I'm not a dog," I said, grabbing another pillow.

Dad snatched it out of my hands before I could even pull it over my head. "Get up, kid. Seize the day."

"I'd rather seize my pillow," I said, longingly eyeing my pillows in his hands.

He hit me in the head with one of the pillows. "There, seize that. Now get out of bed. I'll make you lunch."

"Oh goody," I grumbled, kicking my covers off and swinging my legs over the side of my bed.

I rubbed my eyes, making a mental note to shut my blinds at night so that the stupid sun would quit waking me up. I stood up and sleepily follow my dad out of my bedroom and into the kitchen.

I yelped as I stumbled over something. My dad gripped my arm and righted me before I could fall over.

"Rio, glasses," he said, releasing my arm once I was steady.

I reached up, touching my face. "Oops."

Well, that explained why the world was a violent swirl of colors and barely identifiable blobs.

"Stand there and don't move. I'll get your glasses," dad said with a sigh, walking back towards my bedroom.

I managed to lower myself into a chair without injury, rubbing at my eyes again as if that would clear my vision. I had always had horrible eyesight, and had had glasses ever since I was three years old.

Dad came back into the kitchen, handing me my glasses. I put them on and instantly the world was clear and I could actually see my dad's face.

"I don't know how you always forget your glasses," he said, shaking his head.

I shrugged. "I'm used to being blind. Sometimes I just forget."

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asked, going over to the fridge to see what we had.

"Eggs will do," I said.

"Alright," he said, pulling out the carton of eggs and the frying pan. "Are you hanging out with Mitch today?"

I shrugged. "Maybe." Mitch was my best friend. "I might just go to his house. I don't have anything else to do today."

My brother stumbled into the room and sat down at the table. He ran a hand through his hair, looking exhausted.

My brother, Hank, was a good looking guy. He was tall and muscular, with clear skin and hair that most people would kill for. He had a light tan and a healthy build, with bright eyes. He was a heartthrob kind of guy.

Or, at least, he had been.

The guy sitting across from me was disgustingly thin, his hair a mess, his skin broken out. He had bags under his eyes, and a glazed over look in his eyes. It was hot outside with the sun beating down, but Hank was wearing a hoodie. Why, you might ask?