his eyes had a secret color that can only be seen on either dawn or twilight. at that magic moment when Light and Darkness grapple with each other in their never-ending dance for supremacy, his eyes then would have the color of the palest cinnamon, glowing and bursting into an ember brown the more you stare at it, like how the number of stars in the sky burst their numbers the more you observe them.
and when the battle in the sky has been decided and won, as sudden as a snap the glow disappears. his eyes go back to their normal state: human and vulnerable.
when she saw it the first time, a friend thought it was a door to the Maze that contained his Minotaur of half-formed passions and unresolved delusions. she thought it would lead to an answer to some unspoken questions of his inability and insatiability.
but after seeing it once too many times, it was another friend who saw it as a window to a secret space that he frequented: a narrow alley, a hidden curb, an overgrown pathway, a shadowy street. it was in these quiet spaces that a new universe, hiding in some of reality's secret folds, is silently being born.
what sends shivers down his friend's spine is knowing that an entire universe is trapped within him. everyone knows that windows always work both ways: his eyes when they glow might not just offer a view in, but also for the Others inside him, a view out.