am i so different? â oneshot
pairing: butch!mel king x femme!trinity santos rating: general audiences content: hurt/comfort, fluff, butch/femme dynamics, gender dysphoria + identity, haircuts, self-discovery word count: 4.0k dividers: @saradika-graphics
summary: mel reckons with her hair and how it relates to who she is. trinity helps her out.
author's note: little late entry for day 7 of pitt yuri week (weyuriindapitt on twitter)! iâve been spinning these two in my mind for a while now, theyâre so so great together.
the themes of this work are pretty near and dear to me, as i come to accept my own transness. while mel does go by she/her in this fic, sheâs still coming to terms with her own genderweirdness, and itâs been a joy to write. and, what a coincidence! i'm getting my hair cut short too, so being able to put the feelings i'm anticipating into words is nothing short of amazing.
masterlist | ao3 link | main blog @vanhornjesse
Melâs hair was too long. Honey-colored strands caress down the center of her spine, lying tangled across her shoulders. Itâs the longest itâs been since she was a child, carefree and reliant on stepstools to get by, and unbeknownst to other, more suitable options. Not only was she physically different nowâmuch older, taller, more capable of going about the basics of human lifeâmentally, many things have changed since her youth, yet the feeling remains.
An uncomfortable feeling weighed in her chest like a dumbbell, as the nape of her neck was prickled by hair growing longer by the week. It felt as though an anchored boulder blocked the passage of her throat, making every breath agonizing to take in. An unnamed itch spread across her skin, as close to hives without actually being hives, along with a pressing need to run far, until she broke through whatever the invisible feeling was. Having this pang strike something so deep inside of her brought an unseen sense of shame, one she couldnât quite put her finger on.Â
Personal time was at a minimum as a doctor at the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, amidst the downpour of tasks and problem-solving that needed to be done at each shift. By the end of it, all one could do once they got home was fall into bed, resigning from the world in surrender. It left everyone exhausted, no matter how passionate they were for the craft. The place was the gift that kept on giving, for better or for worse. Not much else was dealt with besides tending to patients of all diagnoses, where it was like some kind of wicked lottery, never knowing what was needed or the severity of each case. Though she loved what she does in emergency medicine, getting to help families from all walks of life, it couldnât be denied; it was easy to get lost in the gruelling nature of the job.
Melâs week leading up to now had been spent progressively getting more and more frustrated with her hair growing, tying it in a braid (drawn tighter than the last time) in an effort to keep it out of her face, while she sorted out what she needed to do on her day off. She hadnât had the time to do any sort of self-care in the way she wanted, to give herself the gratification she needed to flourish.
The quiet hush of night starts to settle in, and sheâs decided. She is going to cut her hair.
From her shared apartment (with her beloved Trinity, who wasnât in the room), she feels a calling from the wind gusts just outside the window. The distant buzz of inaudible speaking through the walls fades away into the ether as Mel dims the lights some more. She attentively organizes the drawers in their room, taking knick-knacks out and putting them in their right place.Â
While it was a pattern, where thereâs a sense of comfort in the familiar, the routine felt even more like a rebirth than normal. Clearing the mind was often the result of tidying up the place for Mel; if the area was a mess, so were her thoughts.Â
The pull of gravity weighing down her hair brings a tinge of blush on her cheeks, buzzing excruciatingly like the static of an old television screen. It was⌠unsettling. As if she were watching a stranger take hold of her body, with no way to get it back. Of course, she could live with long hair. She had for most of her life. It wouldnât kill her, but the feeling of distant surveillance permeated her every move, so much so that she might as well be gone. It was the emphasis on undesired features that made everything feel suffocating. She couldnât explain why; it just was, the way it seemed as though she was plunged deeper into a pool as her hair grew longer by the inch.
With the lightness of her decision and the beat of the night, something breaks open in her chest. Soon, her reflection would become a sight sheâd be eager to see.Â
As Mel closes the drawer, she hears footsteps coming closer, and she turns her head.
Trinity leans against the doorway. She crosses her arms absentmindedly and gives Mel a comforting smile, the corners of her mouth tweaking upwards. Sheâs in sweatpants and a tank top, resigned to the night and ready for bed, though she feels a duty to check in on how Mel was doing before nodding off. Mel smiles back as she sits with her hands in her lap, her glasses reflecting the ambient, golden light.
âNeed company?â Trinity asks, stepping forward from the door.
âOhâIâd like that, actually,â
Trinity sits and shifts right next to her, with a bounce from the bed. She leans back, propping herself up with her hands. âMaybe itâs a sixth sense, I had a feeling you wanted me around while youâŚâ
âI cleaned up the drawers,â Mel says, her attention flicking to Trinity, and then to the pair of salon scissors she had found, rolling them in her hands, the glint from the blade catching in her eye.
âOh, neat,â Trinity replies, with a nod. âAs much as I like seeing you in bed like this, I wanna know whatâs up.â
âWhatâs up?"
âWell, yeah.â Trinityâs eyes flick to the pair of scissors in Melâs hand, slowly turning them around, as if trying to map out their dimensions. With a light shrug of her shoulders, Mel could feel something lodged in her throat, obnoxiously so. She didnât know what it was, but it was in the way, and it was blocking the words with a power that made sure that they wouldnât come out.Â
It wasnât that Mel didnât trust Trinity with her concerns. She hadnât told anyone besides her sister, Becca, about the extent of her qualms with the length of her hair. She couldnât put into words how overexposed she feels with how long it is, like lying awake with no promise of sleep. She hadnât expressed the relief sheâs filled with when she catches a glimpse of herself in a reflection, and itâs just at an angle where she has her hair up, and she couldnât see all of it. And why would she need to? It all remained locked away in her mind, but she couldnât ignore the gnawing sensation for much longer. âItâs, um⌠itâs nothing,â she finally responds, dropping her gaze and redirecting it to the floor.
âWell, doesnât look like nothing,â Trinity says, matter-of-factly, yet the words are laced with concern. âIs something wrong?â
Mel thought about it some more, what her lover might be implying, that something truly terrible had happened. She shook her head and looked at Trinity with intention, while still avoiding her eyes. It tore at her heart, thinking about how Trinity was no stranger to grief, so of course, Mel wouldnât want the possibility of the worst outcome to be lingering in Trinityâs mind for longer than it needed to.
âOh, no, not at all. Itâs just⌠I donât know, honestly,â Mel says with a sigh, her shoulders slumped over now in resignation.
âAre you sure?â
âWellââ âEither way, whether you feel comfortable telling me or not, Iâll be here with you.â Trinity scootches closer to Mel, their legs touching. A warm sensation buds in both of their chests. Mel smiles, beaming at Trinity. âIâd love that.â
Trinity nods at the pair of scissors idly being twirled in Melâs hand. âYâknow, you donât have to say what it is if you really donât want to. But like, câmon. You can tell me anything.â
Mel sets the scissors on the nightstand, the blade hitting the laminated wood with a light ding. She leans back on her hands, head to the sky, as she mentally builds as much fortitude as she canâat least, for the few seconds sheâs allottedâto admit whatâs really been going on in her mind.Â
âI can tell you. Umââ she stops for a moment, gathering her words, already at the tip of her tongue. âItâs my hair. Itâs too long, and I just⌠I donât like how it feels on me. I feel really weird having it like this. And Iâve been thinking about it a lot, andâŚâ
Trinity listens attentively, letting Mel take her time with saying her piece before she interjects.
âIâve come to the conclusion that it doesnât feel nice. Having long hair, I mean.â She purses her lips once sheâs finished, and looks to Trinity for an answer.
âYeah?â she inquires, gently giving Mel a slight subliminal push, as if she were transmitting a message that said, Youâre safe with me. Mel gazes at the floor again, focusing in on a crevice, and the pair of scissors is once again being toyed with. âYes. Thatâs whatâs been bothering me.â
Trinity blinks. Then, a beat.
âI know.â
âOh?â Mel says, pleasantly surprised. âHow did you know?â
Trinity gives her a confident, yet reaffirming look. She had exceptional intuition, and it came in handy whenever the people she loved had trouble putting into words how they felt, or whatever trouble was challenging their lives. âI have my ways.â
âItâs like you read my mind.â Trinity shrugs, and her lap becomes the place where the scissors lie when she takes them out of Melâs hands. âMaybe I did. Maybe I didnâtâIâve seen the way you tug at it, shoving it out of your face when you're busy and itâs down. You usually have it tied back, anyway. Figured there was a reason for that.â
Mel shifts on the bed and nods in confirmation. âI guess you could say there was.â
âYeah, almost as if it hurt you to touch it.â A faint smile appears on Trinityâs face as she seeks to give Mel the comfort she needed in this moment, through her empathy. âIt does hurt,â Mel confesses, silently. âI mean, not physically, but in other ways. I never liked having it this long, I guess I just never said anything because...â
âIt would mean disrupting what youâve been used to?â Trinity asks, tilting her head. âYes. Thatâs what it feels like.â
âI see.â
âItâs just not for me. I like it on other people, but I see a stranger in the mirror. I like it on you,â Mel responds, amending her posture, giving a polite smile to Trinity. âOh, you flatter me. Whatâs got you so bold tonight?â A rosy color grows in her ears as Trinityâs hands go down to the scissors in her lap, idly. The blades are cold to the touch. âSo like, did you want me to help with that?â she asks, pointing to the longer strands of Melâs hair with the tip of the scissors where the two blades meet.
âYou⌠want to cut my hair?â
Trinity snickers, as though she knew Mel would have that exact incredulous look on her face. âWell, yeah. I figured it wouldnât hurt, since you know I cut my own hairââ she runs her hand through her hair, and tucks a strand behind her ear ââsaves me the trouble of going to an actual hairdresserââ âAnd the money,â Mel commented.
âRight. Now, I canât promise itâll be perfect, but it wonât be a hack job or anything.â An air of confidence radiates off of Trinity, as she offers an unspoken promise that she will free Mel from the anguish sheâs been feeling.Â
Even if itâs a simple offer, it meant more to her than she could say. Mel giggles joyously as she allows herself to feel the freedom bloom in her heart, like flowers in the spring. She feels completely secure. Breathing was less of a chore, the night felt clearer, and any loads she had been carrying felt less daunting. After all, she had Trinityâs words to haul the weight she felt for much of her life, even if it was in the background.Â
That was the thing about euphoria, once youâre given an option that things could be different, and that there was a way out of the costume you had been putting on for the world, it is as though you become a person again. Rather than a shell, you become you. A metamorphosis of the soul.
The woman Mel had met on that fateful, ruthless shift months ago was here now by her side. She was here to provide her with company and care, night after night, through every bout of darkness that arises. She was here to ease Melâs anxieties with compassion.Â
Mel nods her head earnestly, adorably eager.
âYes, please, Iâd like that a lot.â
Happy now that she has Melâs full approval, Trinity plants a gentle kiss on her cheek and stands up, making her way to the vanity. She pulls out the chair for Mel in a curtsy, with a little after you. Mel plops into the seat so that her head is level with Trinityâs chest, who is waving the scissors in her dominant hand.
âOkay,â Trinity says. âTell me up to where.â
Mel stops for a second and thinks. Even though she could technically do whatever she wanted with her body now, she hadnât gotten used to the idea that she had full autonomy over how she looked. She didnât want a full buzzâthat would accentuate her girlish features, she thoughtâ so she decided on something in between.
âHere?â Mel indicates, raising a hand to where her neck meets her shoulder, signaling the length that she wants with two fingers. It would draw attention away from her oval face, slashing the pull against her shoulders in a way that would soothe her.
âThatâs the length you want?â Trinity asks, needing confirmation. âJust making sure, because I can always cut more, but I canât reattach whatâs already been cut.â
Mel smiles and looks back at Trinity. âYes. Iâd like it that short.â
Trinity tenderly presses her lips against the top of Melâs head. Mel, who usually kept her wants under wraps, was prone to reshaping herself to please those around her. But now, for the first time, she feels an exhilarating sense of control over her choices. They both could sense this transformation, and she realizes that she would happily navigate these decisions if it meant experiencing the warmth of Trinityâs kiss on her skin once more.
âAlright, letâs do this.â
Bringing the scissors up with one hand and soothingly running the other through Melâs hair, Trinity starts off with little trims at the tips. Mel doesnât complain; she basks in the touch, so divine and tranquil.
âHave you done this before? Cut someone elseâs hair, I mean,â Mel asks, as her eyes fall shut, taking in the feeling of Trinityâs fingers caressing her scalp, tracing down the back of her neck.
âWell, nothing more than taking care of split ends. There was this one time I got in trouble in school for playing salon at recess.â âYeah?â Mel inquires.
âPretty much.â
âWhy was that bad? You were just playing pretend, right?â
Trinity shrugs before she admits, âWell, no. I was actually cutting some of the girlsâ hair with safety scissors I stole, thatâs why.â
Melâs eyes widened, then she exhaled through her nose, tickled by this information.
âThatâsâum, yeah,â Mel smiles, enlightened that she got to hear some more lighthearted stories from Trinityâs childhood, like little glimmers of light in the dark. Of course, there was a mutual agreement between them to share only what felt right in the moment, and it was on occasions like these that Trinity was distracted enough to share stories without a hint of moderation. Thatâs not to say they didnât know everything there was to know about each other, but things beyond the major life events slipped through. Bits of hair fell around Mel, tickling the upper parts of her arms as they did.
âHad myself a pretty boominâ business,â Trinity says, as she measures the length she was about to cut now.
âYouâre versatile, Trin,â Mel prods lightly. âMaster of many trades. A doctor and a hairdresserââ
âThatâs Doctor Santos to you,â Trinity retorts, bringing her hands to her hips, shoulders broad like she were some kind of superhero. And maybe she was, saving Mel, her butch in distress, from the Big Bad Long Hair. She resumes her little snips, and Mel can practically feel the grin from behind her, not even needing to look back to confirm.
âBack to you. Did anyone cut your hair before this?â
Mel chewed on the inside of her lip as she tried to formulate an answer. She sat there for a moment, trying to unravel the memories. Time was this nebulous concept when you werenât living as your true self, if you could call it living at all. Even then, she wanted to try for Trinity.
âWhen she was still around, Mom would cut it sometimes growing up. She liked having two daughters, so she refused to give me a âboysâ haircut.â
Trinity shifts her head to the side as she continues cutting the hair at the middle of Melâs spine. âThat sucks, like, majorly sucks. And you wouldâve been happier with it short?â
Mel nods slightly, so she wonât disrupt Trinityâs work. âYes. And whenever we went to a salon, the ladies would always find a way to make it look all feminine and stuff.â Her eyebrows raised for a second as she realized the possible implication. âNot thatâthereâs nothing wrong with that. Love women.â
âRight. Yeah.â Trinity says, with neutrality. Well, duh.
âI just never liked seeing myself that way. I couldnât recognize myself in the mirror, in a way, my body just didnât feel like it was mine. I was okay with having it in a braid, âcause then it was out of my face. Even then, Iâd secretly envy my classmatesâ dads and my male teachers and stuff, they looked so sharp with their hair cut short.â
âWere you able to cut it?â Trinity asks, looking forward to Melâs response, having hope that itâll be in her loverâs favor.
âIn the end, yes. There was a compromise, where I got a bob,â Mel replies, looking down. âI didnât like it.â
Gentle snip snip snip sounds surrounded their field of hearing, the metal of the blades gliding against themselves as Melâs hair floated between them, the strands then making their way to the ground. Trinity draws some strands of hair together, lining them up between two fingers, and cuts evenly. She repeats this motion several more times before running her other hand through Melâs hair, brushing it out. Mel embraces the feeling, the sanctity of being cared for like this by the woman she trusted most.
âWas it ever shorter than that?â
Mel lets out a breath, her shoulders tensing before releasing. Her posture goes back to what it was before to make Trinityâs job easier, despite feeling the urge to curl into a ball right then and there. âNo. The bob was as short as it got.â
Snip. âAw, man. Why didnât you like it?â
âIt was too long to deal with, but too short where I couldnât tie it back. It didnât fit my face, and it practically told everyone that I was a girl.â
Trinity cocks her head. She already knew that Mel was more attuned to an energy leaning more masculine to neutral, but she was curious, wanting to uncover what this meant to her. Trinity stops what sheâs doing for a second to give Mel another kiss, this time on the temple of her forehead. âSo what Iâm getting is, you didnât like being a girl?â
âI mean, not entirely,â Mel admits truthfully. âIâve just never been good at it. Was a tomboy in elementary school, played in the dirt with boys⌠Itâs like there was a top-secret handbook titled, How to Be a Girl, and I was just never given the memo.â
Trinity stifles a laugh, though it slips through eventually. A beat. âNo one way to be a woman, Mel. I think everyone is who they say they are. Doesnât matter what they look like, whether itâs hair, body type,â she trails off, and gets to her main point. âIn the end, itâs whatever youâre comfortable with.â
Mel affirms Trinityâs words with a light nod, ensuring she isnât in the middle of hair-cutting. She wasnât used to sharing this side of herself, much less getting the type of empathy she was receiving from most people. In further increments, more chunks of hair were being tossed around her, reflecting on the floor. Grounding herself, she homes in on the feeling of Trinity behind her, slotted perfectly in her frame.
âThanks. I really needed to hear that, especially since so much of my life has been trying to fit in and changing parts of myself.â
Trinity sets aside the scissors on the vanity and pulls Mel in for an embrace, their bodies fitting so perfectly, immaculate. Her hand rests on Melâs chin and draws her in for a tender kiss. The feeling is mutualâthey feel as though they could die of this in the sweetest way possible. When they separate, itâs decidedly too brief for Mel.
âYou donât have to change for anyone, unless you want it,â Trinity hums. âYouâre great just the way you are, yeah? And I know you as my amazing, dashing boyfriend with an ultraclean haircut.â
Melâs face warms to the title. Boyfriend. It was one that she and Trinity had been toying with, starting as a joke, as it was clear that while they were both tough and resilient in their own way, Mel perceived herself as taking on that role more often in the way she moved through the world. It came like second nature, and now, Mel couldnât stop herself from grinning ear to ear, obvious in the reflection in the mirror.
She casts a stable hand through her new hair, feeling that sweet relief when her shoulders bear the weight of nothingness, air taking the place where hair once was. She nestles her face into the palm of Trinityâs hand, soothed by the absence of annoyingly long strands.
âI love you so, so much, Trinity.â
Trinityâs face glows with adoration. âYeah, I know.â She smiles gently, trying to contain herself at how at ease Mel looked in front of her, looking right at Trinity dearly. âOne moment, I need to check if I did this right⌠is it even to you? I canât get in your head, so just say the word.â
âOr,â Mel says, a surge of confidence running through her veins, âYou could feel for any uneven⌠parts?â
âCâmere, you,â Trinity laughs, shaking her head, welcome to the bit of flirtiness from her beloved butch. Mel savors the light airiness of her hair, so pristine and new, until she collides with Trinity in a doting embrace. With a gentle motion, Mel positions Trinity on her lap, and Trinity wraps a leg around one of Melâs. Supporting her friend with a hand on her back, Trinity then throws her arms around Mel, holding her close. Jade-green eyes gaze at Mel, and they were dizzied, not wanting to get off this ride despite that.
âOh, youâre handsome,â Trinity whispers, as if she couldnât get enough of reassuring her lover of the truth. She caresses the ends of Melâs freshly-cut hair, playing with it lightly. âThank you.â
âFor what?â
âFor letting me make you feel good.â
Mel nestles her nose into Trinityâs, their faces fitting together perfectly like new furniture into an alcove. âThank you so, so much,â Mel breathes, now relieved from the numbing anguish sheâd put up with for so long, now given a window into greater freedom.
Another kiss. Amidst the dim, amber light of a solitary lamp, their lips collided. Wet and with a realized hunger, one that came with a meaningful understanding. The affliction that had eclipsed Melâs mind was now gone, her mind now clear and unbound. Her heart was filled with Trinity, now and forever.
















