Konig masks

König had had bad experiences using masks to cover his war-scarred face: some suffocated him and others were uncomfortable.

That's why you decided to surprise him, using one of your t-shirts to sew him a mask that would fit him well and look intimidating. When you gave it to him, König practically jumped for joy at finally having one he liked.

Over time, he used it every day and always made a fuss if it wasn't ready, which was difficult since he used it daily and sometimes you didn't have time to wash it. You promised to make him another one, but you kept putting it off until, after another tantrum about taking it to work dirty, you decided to teach him how to make them himself.
You looked for old t-shirts and explained it to him step by step, then you left him in the garden while you tidied the house and prepared dinner.

Upon returning, you found several “masks” hanging on the clothesline, with crooked stitches and crooked cutouts, König already sitting on a small stool, holding the needle with total concentration.

König never spoke much about his face. Not because he couldn't, but because he had learned that silence was easier than explaining the uncomfortable stares, the gestures of surprise, or the poorly disguised fear of those who saw him without covering their faces.

The masks arrived as a solution… and became another problem. Some made him feel trapped, others reminded him too much of the moments when he couldn't breathe, when panic tightened his chest in the middle of combat. Even so, he wore them. Because it was easier to hide than to expose himself.

When you gave him the first mask you'd made, something changed. It wasn't perfect, nor professionally made, but it was his. It didn't constrict him, it didn't suffocate him, and for the first time he didn't feel like he was hiding, but protecting himself. That someone had thought about his comfort, about how he felt under the fabric, meant more than he would ever admit out loud.

That's why he clung to it so tightly. It wasn't just a mask: it was silent proof that someone saw him without fear. And when he finally learned to sew them himself, he didn't do it out of necessity, but because he wanted to preserve that feeling. Stitch by stitch, König learned something new: not everything broken in war is irretrievably lost.