Sometimes, Quest looks in the mirror and sees only an ugly shell, that doesn’t match his heart at all. It’s not that he’s unnatractive, his appearance just doesn’t match the personality he wants to convey. He tries not to dwell on it but it comes to him every now and then. It used to be worse, when he didn’t have you around to remind him of what really matters. All he used to have were virtual friends whose faces he’d barely ever see to distract him from the massive, tiring, wok life. He has so much now, a home with you, with pets, nice decoration, a cozy feeling, a home with love. He feels truly loved, but he still can’t seem to get rid of these ugly feelings completely.

It comes to him after a shower, most of the times. He can truly see himself when there’s nothing covering him up. All the scars, the imperfections, the things he can’t forget, that used to keep him up at night. He’s big, bulky, scarred and tattooed. What’s supposed to feel protective makes him look mean. Scary. He wonders if you’re scared of him. He knows you’re not, but he wonders if you’ve ever felt it too, he’s scared of himself, after all. Og loosing control, of going back to what he was. But most of all he’s scared of hurting you, the one who matters most. He wouldn’t forgive himself, and he wouldn’t want you to forgive him either. The last thing he wants to be perceived as is a monster.

He spends so much time staring at his reflection he doesn’t even notice you entering the bathroom to brush your teeth. You look angelic even in pajamas, of course. You always do. You eventually notice him staring at you, aware that he has something to say.

“Angel, what do you think of my scars? And be honest, none of that ‘I love all of you’ business.” He laughs warmly, playing it off, but you can probably tell it’s bothering him. You always notice. He couldn’t be more glad.