Trim
Sometimes, in order to thrive, you need to trim the dead parts.
He stared at his reflection; he was definitely looking better than he did a month ago. He wasn’t as gaunt, his facial hair was shaved and his eyes no longer had such heavy bags under them.
But there was still one thing that stood out. His hair. It was long and wild, and that was after both his and Purple’s attempts to brush it out.
“It needs to be cut,” A simple statement. It filled him with dread.
He hadn’t cut his hair since before… the accident. It was something that Gold had seen and touched and letting even this little piece of himself that Gold loved felt… like too much.
But, like most of the changes King had gone through without Gold, the boy would not have liked this part of him either. It was a mess. He was a mess. Still. Forever.
Besides, he couldn’t cut it himself and asking Purple to help him with yet another bit of cleaning up the mess he was turned his stomach. That meant making an appointment with Crystal, his hairdresser.
He didn’t want to talk to Crystal. He didn’t want to sit and have her chatter at him about metaphysics and chakras and what rocks are helpful with grief.
But at least she wouldn’t ask questions. She would already know. Not the full extent, of course, but enough.
He grabbed his phone off the sink, opened his contacts and hit call before he could think himself out of it. It rang one, twice, three times before she picked up, “Hello King.”
“Hello, Crystal,” They both sounded so stiff and businesslike, as though they’d never been friends. As though that were another life, “I’d like to make an appointment for a haircut.”
“Sure thing. I actually just had a cancellation this morning, if you’re available now,” They both knew he was.
“Sure, I’ll be right along,” He wasn’t sure if he wasn’t going to convince himself out of it on the short walk there, let alone if he had to wait several days, so sooner was better than later.
He pulled on his jacket, slipped on his shoes and strode out the door, trying to walk with purpose. At least the crunch of the dirt road underfoot sounded nice and the morning sun was pleasantly warm on his face, despite the slight chill still in the air.
The old farmhouse where Crystal lived and worked looked the same as ever, though maybe it had the windows redone.
He rang the bell and she opened the door immediately, clearly having been waiting just beyond it, “Come on in, the chair’s ready.”
She guided him to her little salon and he took a seat in the chair, “Cut off the mess, but try to save as much as you can.”
“You got it,” Crystal nodded, touching his hair and inspecting it before soaking it and giving it a good rinse.
Normally there would be conversation, but Crystal didn’t initiate and King didn’t feel like talking.
“You know, this isn’t as bad as it looks,” Crystal finally said, scissors in hand, “I mean, it’s still bad, don’t get me wrong, and don’t let it get this bad again, but it’s not unsalvageable. I’m not gonna have to shave you bald, which is good because I don’t think you could pull that look off.”
“Hmph, rude,” King teased, feeling a bit like his old self.
She laughed and returned to silence once more, focused on getting his hair under control.
—
“Aaand… done! What do you think?” She asked, turning King to face his reflection. He peered at the shoulder-length hair that nicely curled at the ends, just long enough to pull back into a ponytail. He looked like himself. Finally. Again.
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