"Come on," Caine said, taking Sammy's hand.
Sammy looked down at the time on his phone, worrying that his parents would be expecting him home.
"It's late, I have to ring my Mum," Sammy explained.
After a couple of rings she answered, sounding like she was speaking from the bottom of the ocean. Despite telling her off numerous times, she never put the phone close enough to her mouth. Someone had told her about phones causing cancer and since then she was wary. Sammy figured one day he would return from school to see her holed up behind the couch in a makeshift fort and tin-foil hat. It was only a matter of time.
"Is it okay if I go over to a friend’s house?" he asked her.
"A friend?" his Mum asked, sounding so deeply shocked it was borderline insulting.
"Of course, of course, darling," she gushed. "Stay out as late as you like."
He shrugged as he put the phone back in his pocket. "It's okay, but I don't want to put you out."
"You aren't putting me out. I offered."
Sammy couldn't help but feel he was a burden. He always felt like he was a burden to everyone, even his parents.
'Sometimes, I think they regret having me. Maybe we would all be better off if they hadn't...'
He followed Caine up the garden path and through the large wooden doors into his home. Being led through the large, pristinely decorated house, Sammy couldn't help but feel out of place. The art on the wall looked like something you might see in a gallery, and the surfaces and tabletops were sleek and clutter free. He thought of his own home, littered with his mother's dusty cat ornaments, and felt his face flush with shame.
Grabbing the scissors from a kitchen drawer, Caine led Sammy up two flights of stairs to his bedroom. He was out of breath by the time they arrived.
"Right." Caine clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Sit here."
He pulled his computer chair away from the screen and into the center of the floor.
"Sit," he repeated, louder this time.
"You're kinda bossy," Sammy mumbled as he took a seat.
"Chin up," Caine demanded, ignoring the bossy comment. With his thumb and forefinger, he lifted Sammy's chin and leaned in to inspect the damage.
"Just, don't cut too much off," Sammy pleaded, making big eyes at Caine. He'd been growing his hair for years. It was his ultimate defense mechanism, hiding his tears from the cruel faces that taunted him.
"You don't need to hide a face as beautiful as this," Caine said, gently pushing the last stray hairs from his cheeks.
Sammy felt his neck snap back so hard it cricked his spine.
'What the hell?'
He sensed his face was turning a ridiculous shade of red but was powerless to stop it.
'Did he just call me beautiful?'
Tears filled Sammy's eyes. He tried to hold his eyes open, knowing that to blink would mean releasing the pearls of liquid swelling up behind his eyes. He tried everything to keep it in, holding himself completely still, even holding his breath.
Inevitably the tears came.
"Oh, come on now, it's just hair," Caine soothed, misunderstanding the cause of the tears.
Sammy looked at him through a panel of blurry tears, face defiant and smoldering.
"What's wrong?" Caine frowned.
Sammy didn't answer. Couldn't answer.
He turned to face away from the ridiculously handsome boy, unable to stand up for himself.
"Tell me," Caine asked. He knelt between Sammy's thighs and got right into his face; his crystal green eyes full of concern that looked so genuine. But Sammy knew better.
"Y—you shouldn't tease people. It... it's cruel," Sammy managed to stutter.
"I'm not teasing you," Caine assured him.
"Yeah, right. I get it okay. I'm ugly and pathetic. It must be so much fun to pick on me. I guess that's why everyone does," Sammy blurted.
Caine pulled away and stood. He walked over to the bed where he sat, head in hands.
"All I wanted to do was help, and you attack me like this. What did I do to deserve it?"
Sammy looked up, tears pausing for the moment. Was it possible Caine hadn't been teasing him just now?
'Is it even remotely conceivable that Caine finds me attractive?' Sammy asked himself. 'Surely not.'
"I—I'm sorry, I thought," Sammy stammered, tentatively making his way over to the bed. "I thought you were teasing me."
"Well, I'm not," Caine said without looking up.
"I'm really sorry. Caine—"
"I am teasing you now." The handsome boy looked up wearing a grin from ear to ear. "I'm not mad. I completely understand why you don't think anyone would find you attractive. Those jerks at your school have conditioned that mindset into you. But they are going to pay."
"Do you really believe in Damien's spell?" Sammy asked. He'd personally only gone along with the whole thing because Caine was a part of it. Plus, he also liked Jess. If he had the popularity to choose friends freely, he would pick her over the mean girls at school.
"One way or another, those jerks will pay," Caine said rather cryptically. "Now, let me cut your hair. I really do want to see that face."
For some reason, Sammy thought he might burst into tears again. He had to swallow it back, returning to the chair with his face hidden as usual.
"Please, please try to keep as much as possible," he begged.
Caine sighed. "Just trust me. You are going to look so much better after I've done. Do you trust me?"
‘Do I?’ Sammy wondered. ‘I’ve only just met him.’
Sammy nodded reluctantly. He watched as stands of his long dark hair fell to the floor with a sick sense of dread.
"Can I take a look?" he asked as Caine pulled at his hair, measuring to get the sides even.
"No, not until I've finished," Caine said, eyes fixed in concentration as he worked.
The anxiety built up as Caine continued to snip, look, remeasure, and return to snipping away at his precious hair.
"Okay." Caine led him over to the full-length mirror.
It took a while for his eyes to register what they were seeing.
"I—I lo—I look a bit like you," Sammy said, leaning into the mirror and pulling at the hair. It was now cut into a longer version of Caine's style. How was it possible that he now looked similar to the unbelievably handsome boy sitting next to him?
'Am I good-looking too?' Sammy asked himself. He could hardly breathe.
"How is it possible that a haircut could make so much difference?" Sammy whispered.
"It isn't," Caine assured him. "It's the spell working. You're starting to see yourself as you really are, not how those bullies made you feel."
"You really believe that?" Sammy asked, still staring at his own reflection. He couldn't seem to pull his eyes away.
"I feel it," Caine said. "I have very strong feelings about things. I'm an empath, you see."
Sammy nodded. He'd come across the phrase before, probably via something his mother had posted on social media. He'd always figured it was a load of BS but would never say as much to his new and only friend.
"I think it would look even better if you let me dye it," Caine said with a giant grin.
"Oh, I don't know about that—" Sammy argued.
"Go on. I've always wanted platinum hair, but mine is just too dark. Yours is the perfect color to bleach," Caine insisted. "Please? Please let me. Come on. Please?"
Caine kept on at him until Sammy felt he had no choice but to give in. He wasn't assertive enough to say no or shut him up and didn't want to resort to tears without his protective layer of hair.
"Okay, okay, just please don't make me look ridiculous," Sammy conceded.
The smell of the bleach hit him before the pain, filling his nose so entirely it stung the back of his throat. It was cold as it went on, but after a second it became tingly, then hot, then painful.
"Is it supposed to hurt?" Sammy asked.
"Oh yes, it's very painful. Did I forget to mention that?" Caine winced. "Sorry."
He tried to think about something else other than the pain. Anything else. It was useless. It felt like hot little needles poking at his scalp over and over without respite.
"Okay, I'm done," Caine announced.
Sammy breathed a huge sigh of relief. "You are? I can wash it off now?"
Caine carefully removed his plastic gloves and popped them into the bin along with the black plastic container and brush.
"Oh, no." Caine laughed. "You need to leave it on for forty minutes."
"Geez, what?" Sammy cried. He’d figured the pain would subside as he got accustomed to the feeling, but that wasn’t the case. It felt like his scalp was melting right off his head. Like a thousand angry hornets were swarming about his head.
"Hmmm," he whimpered, looking at Caine with sad eyes.
Caine leaned in, placing his hands on the chair arms. His cat-like face pressed so close against Sammy's he felt like a mouse pinned by a predator's unblinking gaze.
"I'm sure there is something we could do to take your mind off it." Caine grinned.
'He doesn't mean sex? Surely to God!' Sammy felt panic rising from the depths of his stomach. He'd never even kissed anyone aside from his mother and he was fairly certain that didn't count.
"E—erm, could... could we watch a movie or something?" Sammy stuttered, barely able to choke up the words. Every time he took a breath, the smell of bleach would fill his nostrils and sting his eyes.
"Aww, you are so cute and innocent." Caine tutted. "I'm going to corrupt you. I've decided."
'Please don't,' Sammy thought but didn't dare say. He was afraid. Afraid of being liked by someone. Afraid of relationships that could easily break or go badly. Part of him thought it was all just a very elaborate trick. Some cruel prank dreamt up by his tormentors.
Yet, there was also the part of him that wanted it to be real. He looked at Caine, so self-assured and perfect in every way. Could this boy really be interested in him?
'I want to believe in you, so please don't break my heart.'