Through His Eyes Novels & Stories

Beneath his glasses, there was a terrifying chill in his eyes. ...

AGAIN…. Clutching that letter in between his trembling palms tightly, he took his head upward and looked into that mirror in front of him which was showing him his bloodshot glassy eyes where he caught that tear of his soul escaping from his eyes.

Even the stubble, weird as it is, is starting to grow on me. Those eyes, though - no matter what else has changed about him, those eyes are the same. They're a shade of blue that can look dark or bright depending on the light or his mood, and they've always been so sharp, so piercing and intelligent. They're the kind of eyes that seem to look right into the deepest part of you, to read everything you have written on your soul. It's been so long that I think I must have forgotten what it feels like to have him look right at me, because I feel my stomach tighten as he looks over at me now.

I can’t remember his words or anything after he soaked me, all i remember is the pain. His eyes, the way he looked at me, like he would not only kill me but enjoy doing it. I have read and heard people talking about empty or soulless eyes, but I never really knew what they meant until I saw his. I have never seen a real live rogue either, but I know without a doubt that he was one.

‘Thank you’ he said, his eyes were hard now, the care I had seen when I had opened my eyes were gone. ‘Will you be okay?’, he asked. I nodded. He walked away fast.

"You will regret this!" "Abigail, are you alright?" I ask her and for a moment she hesitates to answer. She stares into my eyes, then looks at that cursing dick behind me, then back at me. I see a tear flashing in her eye, then she just runs out of here. "Abigail!" "Don't you dare to walk away, you piece of unknown garbage!" The dude keeps cursing behind my back, as I run after Abigail. I lose her in the crowds, then catch a glimpse of her red gown and shiny chestnut hairs and then lose her again!

His parents, who saw this sudden change, stood still, surprised and unprepared for the emotional turmoil he was going through, Alexander's mother didn't care. The tough Alexander, who came in really angry and saying harsh things like a volcano erupting, was now crying a lot like a sad willow tree. He looked up, his face marked with tears like rivers on a landscape. His eyes, which were fierce and full of defiance before, now showed a vulnerable look, asking for understanding that his parents seemed to struggle to grasp.

Both his hands were in his pockets. He looked straight into my eyes. With sad, lonely eyes.

His hands cradled my face, gently lifting it so that our eyes met, locked in a poignant exchange. The coldness I had sensed in Antonio's gaze seemed to melt away, replaced by something softer, more understanding. His eyes bore into mine, and I found a semblance of solace in that connection. It was as if he was trying to convey his thoughts and emotions through his gaze, bridging the gap between his inscrutable exterior and the vulnerability he allowed me to witness.

I finally looked up to see his reaction, but to my surprise, it was nothing I expected. His hard gaze had softened, replaced with that of pity. He stared into my eyes like he understood what I was going through. His eyes were no longer judging me but rather consoling me. The way they were boring into mine made the lump in my throat disappear, and my mind relax. Am I imagining things?