Lucky Impairment

I’m not completely sure when it started, but by now I was used to him slipping through my bedroom window. I can’t see him, hear him, or even smell him, but I know he’s there. Like now, I could sense him in a way.
“Oli, you really should lock your windows and doors more often. One of these days someone will just come in uninvited.” I could hear the humor in his voice.
“Shh,” I shush him. “You’ll wake up my step-dad.”
I hear the soft rustle of his jeans hitting the floor, before he climbed into my bed beside me. “Sorry,” he murmurs, lips teasing the shell of my ear. I shiver, biting my bottom lip.
Suddenly, he’s straddling my whole body, he moves so quickly. “You should know,” he starts warning,” that biting your lip turns me on.” To prove his statement, he rolls his hips sharply on mine causing a small gasp of pleasure to escape my mouth.
“Ah, so you do like boys,” he accused.
I blush, and turn my head away,”if I didn't why would I let you in my room to begin with.”
“Touché,” he chuckles softly out. His voice is so smooth and velvety, even his laugh is simply enticing.
I feel his cool hand against my cheek and don’t resist when he turns my head so I’m facing him again, even though I cannot see him.
“Don’t you realize I can’t see you?” I ask embarrassed by my impairment.
We've gone through this so many times, he always acts like I can see him, but I can’t. It makes me feel like I should be different. I hate that I can’t see, I just want to see all the colors people talk about, what he looks like. I need to know what he looks like.
But, why? Why do I even care? Why do I let this continue? He could be an old pervert and I wouldn't even know! But he feels so comforting, so great. He makes me feel normal, happy. It’s as if he completes a tear in my soul, as sappy as that sounds.
“Oli,” he whispers so softly. ”I don’t care. I don’t care that you can’t see me.” Tears escaped out of my eyes and trailed quickly down my cheeks. It seems as if everybody else does, even if I just want to get on in my life. My mum could hardly believe that her only kid couldn't even see her face. My step-dad, stuck with me after her death, takes me to doctors to try and fix me, as if I’m an utter embarrassment. Kids don’t want to be friends with me. I’m blind. Blind and alone, that is, until he started to come see me.
Sliding off, he lays on his side facing me and I turn into his embrace. Tenderly, he wiped away my salty tears and kissed the paths they left behind. I’m grateful he is there, grateful he could fill the spot that nobody else was willing to, all because I couldn't see them. Even if he is technically a total stranger. At least he could look past superfluous things.