You see his eyes, and you know you're looking into something magical. That dark reddish-brown with a tinge of hazel, the little twinkle when he laughs, the tiny question marks his pupils make when he asks you about a math question. The shift of light when he tells you that he's sorry.

They can make you blind to everything else. When you see them, everything else dims in comparison, everything else is lifeless and gray, and eventually disappears. All that exists is those slender, full, never ending amber wells. Those little brown portals to a magical place, a beautiful place, a place where anything and everything is possible.

Except leaving.

He's a stage, and they're the actors, those amber eyes of his. And this is the hardest theater to leave.


The End

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