I was heading ho until I walked past a barbershop. At first, I just walked by, but then I backed up and looked at myself in the window.
My reflection stared back, and I had to wince. My hair was a ss. No style, no direction. It was the kind of haircut you get when your only hairstylist is gravity and a pillow. True loner behavior.
’Wow,’ I thought, my brief mont of confidence from the call with Nina evaporating. ’I look like a ss.’
For years, I hadn’t cared. Why would I? Who was going to see it? But now, soone was. Soone was waiting for at the corner every morning. Soone was going to be sitting with in the most boring club in school.
’Well,’ I thought, a new, weird feeling taking root in my gut. ’I guess it’s ti to try a little.’
The decision felt both terrifying and ridiculously small. It was just a haircut. But it felt like a bigger deal. I took a deep breath, shoved my shaky hands in my pockets, and walked into the shop.
A little bell chid as the door opened. The place slled clean, like mint and whatever that blue stuff they keep the combs in is. There was only one person working, a woman with a cool, asymtrical black haircut that was shaved on one side. She was wiping down a chair, and looked up at with a friendly, sharp-eyed smile.
"Hey there," she said, her voice easy and a little raspy. "Don’t just stand there like you’re about to get arrested. Co on in."
I walked forward, feeling like I was on a different planet.
"First ti here?" she asked, gesturing to the chair.
"Uh, yeah," I said, my voice coming out a little croaky.
"I can tell," she said with a grin. "You’ve got that ’my mom usually just takes to SuperCuts’ look about you. No offense to your mom."
I just blinked at her. She was teasing . A complete stranger was just... teasing . It was wild. I didn’t know what to do, so I just sat down in the big, comfy chair. She spun around to face the mirror.
"So, what’s the plan, chief?" she asked, picking up a comb. "Just a little off the top? Or are we going for a full-on glow-up today?"
I looked at my reflection, then at the laminated book of hairstyles on the counter next to . I picked it up, my fingers feeling clumsy. I flipped through the pages of smiling n with perfect, boring hair. None of it felt right.
Then I saw it. Tucked in the back, probably an older picture, was a guy with the exact haircut. That one. The one where it’s cut short underneath, almost an undercut, but the hair on top is longer and just sort of falls over the shaved part. It was clean, it was stylish, and it was one hundred percent the default hairstyle for every cool, stoic protagonist in every manhwa I’d ever read.
’Oh, hell yeah,’ I thought. ’The manhwa protagonist special.’
I pointed to it without a word.
She leaned over to look, and her grin got wider. "Oh, okay! So it is a glow-up. I like your style, kid. Bold choice." She spun back around and draped a cape over . "Alright, let’s make you look like a cartoon character," she said, winking at in the mirror before picking up the clippers.
The clippers buzzed to life, and I instinctively closed my eyes. The first pass was a jarring, vibrating sensation against my scalp.
"So," she said, her voice easily audible over the hum. "What’s the occasion for the big glow-up? Got a hot date?"
My eyes snapped open. My face imdiately felt hot. ’A date? Hell no. It’s way, way more complicated than that.’
"Uh, no," I mumbled at my own reflection. "Just... wanted a change."
She laughed, a low, knowing sound. I could see her eyes watching in the mirror. "A change, huh? A change this big is usually for one of two reasons: a breakup or a new crush. Let guess... not a breakup."
My mouth went dry. She was too sharp. How did this random barber just see right through ?
"It’s complicated," I finally managed, my voice barely a whisper.
"Aren’t they all," she said, switching from the clippers to a pair of scissors with a quiet snip-snip sound. She was concentrating on the hair on top now, her movents quick and precise. "Well, whoever she is, she’s got you trying. That’s a good sign."
Her words hit , echoing the thought I’d had right before I walked in. I was trying. The realization settled in my stomach, not with a sense of panic, but with a strange, quiet acceptance.
"Most guys your age just want to look cool for their buddies," she continued, her tone conversational as she worked. "But a haircut like this, a real style change? That’s almost always for a girl. You want her to see you."
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. She had just taken the jumbled, chaotic ss of feelings I’d had and laid them out in a simple, obvious line. I wanted Nina to see .
"Don’t worry," she said, seeming to sense my internal crisis. "I won’t tell your secret. Besides," she paused, stepping back to eye her work. "It’s gonna look good. She’ll notice."
The rest of the haircut was quiet, but it was a comfortable quiet now. She’d already said everything she needed to say.
"Alright," she said finally, turning off the small blow dryer she’d been using. "Open them eyes up."
I opened my eyes.
And I just stared.
It was in the mirror, but it... wasn’t. The long, ssy hair that used to flop over my eyes was gone. The sides were clean and sharp, and the longer hair on top had a texture to it now, not just a limp curtain. My face looked... different. More defined. My jawline seed sharper without all that hair hiding it.
’Holy shit,’ was the only thought in my head. ’I actually... look good?’
"Not bad, right?" the barber said, leaning on the back of my chair and looking at my reflection. "Told you. She’ll definitely notice."
My own face felt hot again. "It’s... yeah," I said, unable to form a real sentence. "It’s good. Thanks."
"Any ti, kid."
I paid her, my hands feeling a little shaky, and walked out of the shop, the little bell chiming behind . I felt the cool air on the sides of my head, a sensation that was completely new. I walked a few steps, then stopped and touched my hair. It was real. I did that.
I felt... lighter. Not just because I had less hair. It was strength it took to change, it was a huge step in the right direction.
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