“Hazel”

His eyes are nondescript, dark, and hazy from afar: indifference in a nutshell. Knit eyebrows, lank hair, a powerful though stooping figure; his slightest movement drips mysteriousness. Soft lips, dark eyelashes—his beauty is not in question. It’s more his intentions, his motivation that perplex me. Alone he’s silent and sullen. Headphones jammed in his ears as he crouches against the wall, his hands sway and twitter to accompany whatever beat filling his psyche. I dare to approach. Eyes. Those eyes of his peer intently ahead; there is only a set of lockers in his line of vision. What does he see that my eyes can’t penetrate? Because at this slight distance it’s apparent that they are consumed by passion, a livelihood that the sight of no locker could ignite. And still he’s detached from the world.

But at the sight of a comrade, a friendly face, his visage brightens. A pleasant smile ignites like a spark amidst the cloudiness that was two seconds ago his bland expression. He chatters with her, his girlfriend. Puzzling. This man isn’t the one sitting on that floor prior. From Impenetrable to open...who is he? Those eyes. From dark to jewel bright.

Times passes, and she leaves. His irises had gradually darkened before she departed. Now he’s sunk back into his stupor. Thoughtful and moody, his eyes pierce through the dimly lit nook he has claimed in our school. Others surround him, but they go mostly unnoticed. I venture nearer, visible to him. He turns. I continue forward, and he fails to object. I take this lack of hostility as an invitation, and take the seat that she left vacant. I stumble for words, and realize that as he is not a man of many, they won’t be effective any ways. I accept the curious glance he tosses at me, and peer at him up close for the first time.

It takes awhile, but eventually my eyes adjust, and I can truly recognize him for what he is. The darkness he basked in was simply a mask. The brightness was no better; he tried his hardest to appeal to her, but it blinded her. She couldn’t see past it. Or maybe she never really looked.

But I did.

“And, you see, that's one of the biggest thing that makes me so awed at you: how you can really see what my intentions are, and you can really see who I really am.”

He wasn’t the gloom of brown, nor the extremity of green. He was the medium. The best of both worlds tossed into one person. Hazel. Chase. My Chase.