Author: nowayoutofthis
Rated: K
"I took the stars from my eyes, and then I made a map.
And knew that somehow I could find my way back. "
Florence and The Machine
Everybody talked about her eyes; how they had a vibrant shade of emerald green and were framed by the most vibrant red eyelashes ever. Everybody talked about her eyes - how they were kind but so so so scary when she was angry, or how they seemed to almost close when she laugh.
The girl didn't mind them - for her, after staring at herself in a mirror for 17 years, they were pretty comon - but got a little tired when all the boys lines to her were related to "How they shined like precious stones" or said like "Can't find my way... Got lost on your eyes".
Everybody talked about her eyes, but he didn't even looked at them. He liked to focus on her hair - red red red, he used to whisper, and she didn't know if he was talking to her or to himself. She couldn't understand why - it wasn't pretty, after all, just a bunch of frizzy, messy red locks. But he liked it.
Somehow, the boy just didn't look at her eyes like the other ones - he avoided her.
What was the problem with him?
She didn't like his messy, untidy hair (well, maybe a little) or even minded his famous crocked grin (just a bit). She noticed him and his soul, because that was why the eyes represented, right? The door for the soul and everything else.
(Oh. Right.)
But yeah - she were fascinated by his eyes. They were an unusual shade of gold; not yellow, but pure, clean gold, big, open, expressive. With the most dark, mysterious eyelashes she had ever seen. Always observing and observing and observing. She could read his whole being just looking at his eyes.
Not that she looked very often or whatever.
Everybody said her eyes were the most pretty they've ever seen - but she just couldn't understand. How would someone compare emeralds to stars?