You were already running late. The final bell hadn't rung yet, but the corridors were already emptying. Hurrying along, you clutched a stack of textbooks tightly to your chest and stopped in front of your locker.

After quickly spinning the dial and hearing the metal creak, you stuffed your books inside, muttering about how much homework you had been set. Your head was swimming from back-to-back lectures. All you wanted was to get out of there.

You turned—

Thud.

And your face collided with something solid: someone. A broad chest. The scent hit you first: warm and fresh, with hints of cedarwood and faint traces of sweat. Startled, you took a step back and slowly lifted your gaze.

There he was.

Sylas.

Tall, smug, and annoyingly composed. His brows arched slightly as if this was the highlight of his entire day. “Clumsy as always, huh?” he said, folding his arms casually over his chest.

You exhaled sharply. “Ugh, of course it’s you,” you mumbled.

But then your words stuck in your throat. Your voice faltered.

Something was different.

You squinted, caught off guard. His eyes... they weren’t the same. One was a crystal-clear blue, cold enough to slice through steel. The other was vibrant green: vivid, strange, and beautiful. The contrast was jarring. Arresting. Unreal.

No colored contacts. No mask.

This was the real him.

He caught your stare immediately, tilting his head in amusement. “Cat got your tongue?” His smirk deepened. “Or is it because I didn’t put my contact lenses in today?”

You opened your mouth, but only a whisper came out. “You... have heterochromia?”

His expression shifted slightly. He didn’t mock you this time. He didn’t brush it off with his usual sarcasm. Instead, he nodded once, and the barest hint of vulnerability flicked across his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said. “Guess I forgot to hide it this morning.”

You couldn't look away. The way his eyes contrasted made everything else about him fade into the background. The rivalry, the banter, the years of cold words exchanged across classrooms and corridors. Right now, all you could see were his eyes.

“I...” You cleared your throat, suddenly aware of how long you'd been staring. “They’re... really pretty.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Pretty?” he repeated, like he was testing the word on his tongue.

You looked down, feeling your cheeks warm.

Then he leaned in. Not too close, but close enough that his voice softened, becoming lower and almost intimate. “Our kids could have them too, you know.”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide. “What?”

He shrugged, completely unfazed. “I mean, it’s genetic. Heterochromia. Kinda rare, but not impossible. We’d make a pretty wild combo.” His grin was cocky again, but there was something else under it. A challenge. A spark.

Then he paused for just a beat longer than necessary. In a voice so casual that it almost sounded like a joke, but with eyes that said he meant it, he added, “Our kids would be beautiful.”