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It starts with a look in the mirror. They see their face, a glisten of red like blood that rests where Elly’s soft brown eyes would be. Mom’s eyes are red too, but it’s different for her. They are red like rubies, like sunsets or the warmth of a raging hearth fire when it gets so hot it changes colors. They are inviting in spite of their color.
Kris is the human that lurks under the bed and their eyes are red like blood. Like a human soul.
They remember one day in the playground. Looking at another kid and shaking his hand to say hi—that is what they are supposed to do, is it not?
The moment their eyes meet, there is a scream.
Kris kept them hidden under long, long bangs after that.
Not like that helps much. Eyes are the window to the soul, after all. To cover up their disquieting eyes is to place a bandage upon the arm of a person with an incurable terminal illness—Unhelpful, only serving to further outwardly hint at an unrelated issue. Kris is rotten and disconcerting by nature and nothing will change that.
It’s a cold evening in the classroom when someone tries to get a good look at them. Susie is her name, and she thinks of them as an irritatingly smarmy little prat who really ought to be put in their place sometimes.
She says things. Cruel things, awful things. But none of them really hurt quite as much as the way she trembles as their eyes meet. Like pressing upon an old bruise—for all they think it’s healed, they can’t help the sting.
It’s five months later and the two of them are the best of friends now. Kris doesn’t think they could have found someone more perfect. And she doesn’t flinch at all their odd habits, quipping when they pull out their knife and stealing a bite whenever they eat assorted flora.
But still, in the back of their mind, the memory is there. She too flinched at the sight of their true face. Like everyone else, she too is scared. No matter how wonderful she is, this is something even she cannot offer.
And on a day out and about, at the edge of the lakeside that has become such a common hangout spot for them by now, Susie looks at them with softness in her gaze and speaks.
“Hey, Kris,” she starts. Her eyes flicker around a bit, a telltale sign of her nerves.
Susie is blessed with eyes of a deep, honeyed amber, shining like gold and hopes and dreams alike. It’s all too easy to get lost in them, or to even simply forget themselves for a moment, lose track of all their worries and fears and just stare until she asks them if something’s on her face with a flustered huff.
They can’t help but wonder why she ever hid them. She is not like them. She is not stuck with terrifying ruby red slits that characterize the monster and the evil that lurks among the populace.
“I was thinkin’,” she says. “Don’t push yourself,” they reply with a little smirk that makes her roll her eyes. She takes a stone and skips it across the lake—trying to distract herself again, huh? Well, that certainly tells them what they need to know about the situation.
“Oh, shut up, you little asshole,” she says, but it’s half-hearted, and not in the usual, affectionate manner. A response for the sake of responding. And then she continues.
“Your eyes,” she says, tilting her head in confusion, in spite of the fact that it is she who has said something and truncated it so abruptly that they have no method of possibly discerning what she could mean. Except they can—an expert in reading all her many mannerisms; not that it's a particularly hard field to study in the first place. Susie is an open book and it isn't something that bothers her in the slightest, she says—"Why bother hidin' anymore? I'm past all that dumb crap. It's for cowards."
How she must look down on them, then.
And yet, in some ways, they are infectious, for there are times like these that occur with surprising frequency, secrecy and hesitance lacing her actions and cutting them off in their tracks. And during these times, Kris is more than well-equipped to discern the hidden meaning.
She wants them to show them her eyes. But she feels too awkward to bring it up, mind haunted by the memory of that day back in the abandoned classroom just like their own, only for completely different reasons.
"Well," says Kris. And then, unexpectedly, they add, "I can always show them."
Self-destruction at its finest—a particularly unique and innovative way of lighting this fuse. They want her to see them and want to see her terror, if only so they can stop themselves from continuing down this dangerous path of hope any longer. Is it even hope? Maybe it's really delusion.
There's a thin line between the two.
Susie nods earnestly, only to clear her throat and look away in an attempt to look blase, says—"Y-Yeah! I mean, uh- if you want to, of course."
It's a struggle not to laugh a little; Kris doesn't actually want to make her feel self-conscious right now; and even more so one to push down their lightened heart back into its usual state. Kris tries to think of misery and pain, if only because it is somehow more comfortable, but they fail.
This will mend things.
"Brace yourself," they say, looking up at her. You won't like what you see.
Before they can pull up their bangs they pause a little, part to look cool and part to hesitate. Susie stares with enraptured eyes, ,before catching herself and looking away with a huff and flushed cheeks.
"Hurry up, dude..." she murmurs. Dude. It's a funny nickname because it's so much more friendly than Kris deserves, really—but that isn't the reason they dislike it. They dislike it because they want so, so much more from her. They want her to call them far more shameful things: Hon', babe, the whole host.
Kris pushes that thought down and lifts up their bangs. Hopefully, the buildup was enough to leave her feeling more underwhelmed than anything, because her being underwhelmed would be just a little bit better than her being scared.
It's funny how anxious they are about her reaction. Wasn't fear what they wanted? To watch her stubborn countenance, so dedicated to loving and saving everyone she can, falter at the sight of the miserable thing that is Kris? Why suddenly cower out now?
They say a body will instinctually fight back and struggle right before the process of hanging, even when self-inflicted. Maybe that's what this is.
Unfortunately for them, however, or really, fortunately, considering that this is what they wanted, isn't it—Susie is staring. Her mouth is wide-open and her pupils dilated and her rapid, shallow breaths are loud enough for them to hear.
She is frozen. This must be that third fight-or-flight reaction—to freeze. She does not scream or run or do anything particularly loud, but no matter, because it's so obvious-
"This isn't fair, man..." she mumbles, and- Oh. She's blushing. Very, very hard. "You and Ralsei both, tch-"
And under her breath, she adds—"Gotta hand it to you, though, yours are even cuter."
...
"What."
"What?"
Realizing what she's said, and realizing they've heard her, Susie scrambles to cover for herself, shifting from foot to foot as she haphazardly babbles out excuses.
"I-I was just, like, saying shit, dude!" she says, a blatantly played up boisterous laugh. "Like- Like- y'know, to like, uh- Actually they look super lame! I-I see eyes like these every day! Yeah! Totally, dude, like- I mean, I don't wanna kiss you until- I mean what- What??"
Every word digs her into a deeper and deeper grave. Kris puts a finger to her lips, granting her temporary respite.
Keyword: Temporary.
"What was that about wanting to kiss me?" they say, an impish grin on their lips. Maybe it's a tad selfish of them to push—they know that part of them is simply riding on the empty dream that she really did mean it and wasn’t just saying things blindly in a flustered fit. Susie scoffs.
“It was nothing, alright?!” she says all too insistently, baring her teeth at them, before sombering up all of a sudden.
“I just-” she starts, her voice stronger and yet weaker all the same. “I—I saw your eyes one time. Before today, I mean.”
The reminder of that day shakes them out of what little reverie they’ve built up. When even Susie, big, bad Susie, had to show her true colors at the sight of those blood red slits.
“I think… you know what I’m talking about as well,” she says. “Don’t you, Kris?”
Wordlessly, they nod.
“I was yelling at you, and you were just taking it, and then- then I walked up to you and yanked your hair up. And then- Then I saw ‘em. They were- uh-”
She fiddles with her hands, stretching her legs out, anything but continue the sentence. Kris wants to say—”It’s okay, Susie. I know what you truly think already.”
But her next words completely wreck their train of thought.
“Prettiest thing I’d ever seen,” she says. “I, uh-” she starts, trailing off sheepishly again. “Don’t really think I’ll find anything better.”
“But yeah,” she finishes. “I- I realized you were prolly scared, too. Saw it in your eyes.”
She can’t bring herself to say anything else, instead just finishing with an awkward—”Um, yeah.” Her bangs are pushed over her face and her lips are pressed into a pensive frown.
It’s not an apology. It’s far better than anything Kris could have ever hoped for them.
To think, this entire time, she had been enraptured from the start—
“Hah-” they laugh, and then a dam breaks, and all of a sudden, they can’t stop. “Hah! S-Susie, you-”
It takes time for them to calm down, and by the end of it, Susie looks terribly self-conscious, and they realize they must’ve made her think her admission was silly. “You’re too good for me, Susie,” they say, and finally, she looks at them, golden eyes visible again at last.
They’ve missed the sight.
“I oughta be the one sayin’ that,” she says. It’s the final push that topples their fragile little card-house of self-control. Next thing they know, they’ve scrunched their eyes shut and given her a peck on the cheek.
Wait, what? “Kris?!”
Fuck.
“Nothing,” they say, already standing up and turning on the back foot. “See you. Later. Susie.”
“Kris, c’mon! Kris! Hey!”
Oh, they are never going to live this down.