LITTLE THINGS, C

Days without his mask felt odd - it shouldn't have felt odd, since he still wasn't completely comfortable with being referred to as 'Mr.' again, and the foreign last name he'd made for himself still curled his stomach when it rolled off someone else's tongue. He wondered if it was leaving marks, if the gaudy plastic accidentally bled and left red stains on the peaks of his cheekbones, and that some bright person would make the connection, and then, that other connection, the one that still made him blood freeze and his face twist into a slight grimace at the very thought.

That man wasn't him. It would never truly be him. And, he reasoned, maybe the reason why he felt so uncomfortable going out now was that he knew he was a fake, a phony, that he didn't actually want to change, and that other people would see through that. Four years might have seemed like a long time to him - and it very well may have been, to the majority - but some things weren't so easily forgotten. After all, he was still uneasy because he remembered, trying to be subtle with his eye movements as he strolled down the streets, past the shops, whistling to steady himself because he sometimes thought people were giving him 'that' look, the look of recognition.

It wasn't exactly a pleasant sensation, but somehow, Vernell still couldn't really bring himself to frown, like he wanted to. Instead, he touched his face, fingers idly tracing around the shape of that mask in an invisible line as he continued walking, almost subconsciously.

aaa i hope this is okay for a starter!