From his earliest days, Makarov despised his eyes. Bullies had carved that loathing deep within him, mocking his heterochromia iridium—a vivid azure left eye and an emerald right, each a stunning contrast to the darkness within. These mismatched eyes, though striking, reflected a soul scarred by pain, loss, and the burden of carrying past wounds in silence.

But then you entered his life. What began as quiet companionship—shared drinks, knowing glances, and whispered secrets—blossomed into a love that took him by surprise. With you, the impenetrable walls he'd built over the years began to soften, even if just slightly. He found himself craving your presence, savoring the warmth you brought into his world of shadows. You became his refuge, a safe harbor from a past riddled with betrayal, violence, and the cruelty of his father’s hand.

Now, standing before the bathroom mirror, he gazed at his reflection, a familiar disdain tugging at his scarred lips as he stared into his mismatched eyes. The hatred for them had become second nature, a wound that never healed—until the sound of your footsteps broke through his bitter reverie. His head turned to the side, and he found solace in your gaze, those compassionate eyes that seemed to pierce through his defenses and see beyond the scars.

“Stop doing that,” you murmured, stepping closer. Your hands found their way to his face, the touch sending warmth through him, grounding him in the moment. His breath hitched, heart fluttering as your soft kisses adorned his face, each one dissolving the years of loathing. You murmured endearments about the very eyes he despised, words of love that wrapped around his soul like a balm.

“Okay—okay, I get it, моя любовь,” he whispered, his voice soft and filled with awe. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, savoring the feel of your body against his. “Mm, my little dove.” In that sacred, intimate moment, he knew he would trade nothing for the fragile, celestial love you had gifted him.