Stained glass. That's what he was like. Stained glass. Beautiful, brilliant, admired by everyone.
Beautiful, brilliant, admired my everyone, but so, so easy to break.
Which he was. People didn't realise it, but he was. People thought he was invincible, that he could do anything. They thought he couldn't ever be hurt, but it wasn't true.
He could be hurt so, so easily. The slightest thing could upset him. He'd hang on to things for ages. Things people said, completely offhandedly, stayed with him for days.
He would never show it, though, and you would never know. Not if he didn't want you to.
He was like stained glass. When you're looking at the picture, you don't notice the cracks.