The gaze was obvious; the emotion emitting from just a single glance was an amazing sign that love actually did exist. Yet. That was just how he thought it showed. The gaze was actually an uncomfortable and direct hit to the other male that emitted a certain hatred and or extreme dislike. It caused everyone to keep their distance or trudge carefully around the man. It pushed the other male farther away as well.
When the moments came to take a chance, his nerves worked up and caused a deepened frown to show on his face, and simple angry grumbles came out; too embarrassed to say the little greeting. Of course; the other took it as a threatening motive and quickly apologized before hurrying away to the group of friends he already had. They quickly took a stance against the man to protect their precious friend. The other already had friendships - there was no need for the man - after all, the multiple rejections was enough.
All Berwald wanted was to say hello. Even if that's all it'd be and nothing more would happen, that would be enough happiness to come to him. Who would want to be seen with a tall male that always glared - a monster?
He would constantly sulk home each day, however it must have looked like he had just murdered a group of people for everyone fled out of his way even if they weren't directly in front of him. The Swede could hear the whispers and feel their cold looks. It wasn't his fault; or was it? Could he very well smile so easily but just wasn't giving in? A smile wouldn't work, with the look and his current outstanding social work, a smile would be a caution to everyone as well.
A single mirror was placed on his bathrooms wall above the sink. It was where he practiced expressions; a magazine had been cut out with pictures of beautiful people and smiles that people found gorgeous and welcoming. Every single time he tried to imitate the look, he found he couldn't. Nothing would change.
Berwald had finally had enough.
A balled up hand smashed into the glass, eyebrows wavering as shards pierced into his skin. The entirety of the mirror collapsed around his still clenched fist. There was no reflection now. Nothing to show his horrid face. With it gone, he felt comfortable enough to take his hand away from the empty space though he knew his job was yet to be over.
The counter was covered in varied pieces. Some even showed a portion of reflection. It made his face look even more distorted. His bleeding hand still with glass embed in it, caressed a decent sized piece, the edges sharp and jagged. What a lovely piece. A soon to be significant piece. The only object that could help him. So he picked it up.
It hurt.
There was no longer a mirror to see the project.
Warm liquid started to drip down his cheeks.
Chin.
Nose.
The air around him stung now.
God, it hurt.
Yet he didn't stop.
The male had dragged the jagged edges of the broken mirror piece across his face - across his hideous face. He held the piece so tightly it stabbed into his palm.
Only when he seemed to be overlapping cuts did he drop the shard into the sink and feel his now wounded face. Why? His hands shook and knees buckled in, dropping to the spotted red floor. He held his face in his hands, teeth slammed shut, and eyes squeezed closed. Tears found their way out from the corner of his eyes, the salty water touching the torn skin and sent a searing burn to the spot.
It hurt.