His eyes (3+1) (Bakutodo)

Three

The third time I saw his eyes was one night at around 11pm, I was mindlessly scrolling on my phone in the common room completely ignoring what was displayed on my screen as I heard the sound of steps creaking and a small candycane poked his head out of the stairway. Once again we locked eyes, his gaze faltering ever so slightly but maintaining eye contact as the rest of his body emerged from behind the wall. His eyes once bright, joyful, and happy. Now dull, hurt, sad and broken. They were a complete shell of his previous self and any trace of his childhood was replaced with despair and hatred. It was like the light at the end of the tunnel was replaced with a dead-end. I could barely recognize them. They were still as beautiful as I remember but they were sharp and painful to look at. Our everlasting silence broken by the voice of a heterochromiac Pepsi-bottle "I hate my eyes" he stated this, grabbed a cookie and sprinted back upstairs like his life depended on it. I was too shocked by the words spoken to even have time to react to his sudden movement. What did he mean? His eyes are amazing. Does he not like the inconsistency in color? Is it the scar? A million questions swirled around in my mind up until I had had enough and I went back to my room to sleep.