close.

Ren stood at the bathroom sink, tapping his finger on the porcelain. He stared into the mirror and saw nothing in the black limpid pools of his eyes. He was debating on whether or not to shave. Shaving was something he did not really like to do, but he was unable to grow a proper beard. It always grew out about half an inch in patches and then stopped, leaving him to look rather scraggly. He could probably get away with this, since most young men these days were walking around with half a day's growth of beard on purpose. However, there remained a small bit of guilt every time Ren decided not to shave, because his father had always insisted upon a clean shave. He used to say that an officer and a gentleman always keeps a clean-shaven face. That's just regs.

Ren never became an officer in the military but he knew what it meant to his father. So even though his father was no longer around to see Ren neglect his shaving duties, he still felt he owed it to him to shave.
In fact, when Ren thought about his father, he could not remember a single day he had ever seen the man with stubble. And that man could probably have grown a serious beard. He used to have a mustache when Ren was about 9 years old (that was allowed for an officer), but he eventually shaved it off and never grew another one. No, for the life of him, Ren could not remember any stubble. He wondered how the old man could keep such a smooth face as well. All he had ever seen him use was an old wet brush, a shaving soap stick, and a double blade razor. None of this Triple Mach 5 Blade business. The old man really turned shaving into an art.

Ren, on the other hand, had hardly anything to shave and still knicked himself every time. He chalked it up to the fact that he never really concentrated when shaving. His mind was always somewhere else. Either on work, or how he was going to fix the kitchen sink. But usually, more often than not, his mind would wander back to Stella. She was, like many things in his life, a girl he was completely unable to figure out. He didn't bother with most girls after a while, but Stella had a hold on him. The frustration she caused him by being so lovable and yet so unloving was the main reason he had a hard time falling asleep at night.

Then Ren knicked himself. A slight tenseness cut off by a release of breath as he felt the blade slice into his chin. Soap sting. Another sigh of failure. Ren looked down at the blood on his razor.

"Damnit, Stella..."