Work Text:
Jeremy sucked in a deep breath, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He idly reached up a pale hand, fingers combing through choppy brown locks. He was finally getting them cut.
For all his life, he had grown out his hair. His mom always said it looked prettier, looked more like hers. He had cut it himself once, at thirteen; with Michael as a somewhat-willing accomplice. They lied and said it had got caught on something and the only way to get it out was to cut it all off. Michael's mama and Ina had been sympathetic, offering to help clean up the mess on his head and make it a little neater. (Ina had a knowing glint in her eye which he later would learn was her figuring it out right then and there).
His finger caught on a tangled knot of hair and he winced uncomfortably - there was another perk of shorter hair, less of that. His dad was the one who pointed out that it was growing out again recently, and suggested something Jeremy never thought he could have.
A haircut. A real, proper haircut, done by professionals. Not to grow back, not just to trim off bad ends, but an actual proper hairstyle. For boys, that's what he was now.
His mom was... supportive, in her own ways. Or at least, she said she was supportive. He still caught the melancholic look she shot at him every time the haircut was brought up. He knew she loved his hair, loved that it was something they had in common. One of the few things he had inherited from her instead of his dad.
Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to feel bad about it. “It's not her hair” Michael had said when he mentioned it in passing “What matters most is what you're comfortable with, dude”. Maybe it's the casual way he says it, partway through shoving Doritos in his mouth while a controller hangs loosely in his other hand, but it helps Jeremy believe every word Michael said.
“Jeremy!” came the shout from downstairs - one that still has a thrill lighting up his stomach and agitating a horde of butterflies no matter how many times he hears it; a grin unfurled across his face unbidden, slender fingers detaching themselves from knotted hair - hair that was about to be chopped off.
“Coming!” he called back to his dad, excitedly taking the steps two at a time as he raced down. He smiled at his father, wrapping his cardigan tighter around himself as they walked out, towards a happy ending, or maybe a new beginning.