“West Tsukishiwa station, disembark for west Tsukishiwa station.”
The platform was fuller than usual. From Akane’s vision at six feet, he could see most of the crowd around him. The floodlights let intense shadows fall across the ceiling and the figures that passed. The only decipherable attribute of the blurring profiles were the light-eyed ones, the blessed that get to peer among the world in beauty instead of darkness.
That’s why he thought others treated him that way, anyway. Akane is dark-eyed. Raised in the city, but dark-eyed. He still ambled with the same arrogant gait, the same expensive fibres on his sleeves- but his pupils held no fluorescence. His irises never shown in shades of white or grey; they were always grim and silent, like clouds before a hurricane hits.
People often cowered away from him- his stoic build and large forearms, the way his brow creased when he was concentrating frightened them. They saw him as a threat, and when they saw his face: automatic judgement beyond comprehension.
This man? Dark, bad, uncalled for. There were others like him, but nobody like him- big and built of stone- was ever said to have “never hurt a fly”.
Akane’s heels dragged across the concrete, finding their way up to Tsukishiwa, his home, the city. It was where he felt at ease the most. It was quiet tonight, surprising for a scene in constant motion. He hadn’t had to pull out his ID yet, and that somehow left a still feeling in his chest. People didn’t need to know where he was from to accept him.
A dark-eyed old man passed, his head cocked in curiosity as he crossed paths with Akane. The man slowed his pace walking by, locking eyes with him and giving a faint nod. He returned the gesture . Yet Akane couldn’t place why he seemed different… He focused on his hair, the way it shone in different tones of light, its different texture…
The man came to an abrupt stop, his feet halting on the sidewalk. His glance a mystery, questioning why Akane’s gaze travelled.
The situation was all too strange.
They stood opposite each other, staring on the curb. To outsiders, it would’ve seemed there was some recognition, some relationship they shared. But Akane couldn’t pinpoint what was so compelling about the way the man’s profile was, his eyes- they weren’t dark, but they were undeniably deep. Deep like an ocean, or a paned window when it rains. They weren’t as daunting as he found them before. They were beautiful.
“Who are you?” Akane whispered. “What’s wrong with you?”
Akane hated the way his voice blared, low and unnerving.
Comprehension flooded into the man’s countenance, and his posture relaxed as the corners of his face loosened to reveal a star-crossed grin.
“What you’re seeing-” The man paused. “It’s called, colour.”
