SofiyWhite888
Zak was painfully self-conscious about his heterochromatic eyes-the striking contrast of icy blue and deep black made him feel exposed, like everyone could see right through him. His olive-toned skin only added to his insecurities, so he often went to elaborate lengths to hide himself. Most days, he wore gloves that covered his hands completely, even when the weather was warm, and atop his head sat a cardboard mask shaped like a goofy, smiling face. The "carpet head," as he half-jokingly called it, was painted in deep midnight blues and streaks of black, almost like a miniature storm cloud perched on his shoulders. The mask's eyes were carefully cut out and covered with fine mesh, allowing him to see the world clearly without revealing his own.
The overall effect was bizarre, almost comical at first glance, but to Zak, it was a shield-a way to keep the world at arm's length while he navigated spaces where he didn't feel he belonged. Sometimes the edges of the cardboard were frayed, the paint smudged from hours of wear, giving it a rough, lived-in texture that matched the tension he carried beneath it. And though the mask was silly, Zak had chosen his colors deliberately: blue, the color of quiet and distance, and black, the color of hiding and shadows. Together, they became his armor, his way of controlling how much-or how little-of himself anyone could see.
Even when he spoke, his voice carried a hesitant quality, as if the mask absorbed some of the sound, muffling it into the space between him and the world. People might have laughed at the ridiculous expression painted on the cardboard, but only Zack knew the effort it took to create a small, safe pocket of anonymity in a world that always seemed ready to judge.
but then he met someone who didn't care about what he looked like or anything like that