#unhe

after mom falls asleep.

Arthur always liked his hair long.

He could style it however he wanted– braids, buns, ponytails– whatever he felt like that day. Whether messy or neat, he's done it.

It was his staple, especially to Thomas. (Not just because he's the only one who can do something besides a ponytail!)

No one had seen him with short hair. It just didn't fit him. Never did. Something felt missing when he had to cut his hair a bit shorter. Like he was losing memories.

…

His hair was full of knots, once Arthur finally got a moment to relax in his house. Strands of brown hair stuck to his face like glue as he stared into the mirror. Hazel, tired eyes stared back at the mirror while Arthur thought about everything that had happened.

He had to protect Isabella. Simple as that. Not just from the punches Thomas tried to throw or a broken arm. (He's still happy that he took the broken bone instead of her!) No, there was more he had to protect her from.

The neglect, first off. It felt so weird seeing her avoid eating once Arthur got her settled in his house– it wasn't because she was ‘picky’. Arthur knew better than that. She kept mumbling on how she didn't deserve it, of course. Thomas probably made her believe that she wasn't worthy of a real meal, and just gave her the frozen shit to do the bare minimum. Grief's a hard thing but… really?

The more Arthur thought about it, he was almost a carbon copy of Thomas. Same style of dress, same humor, same memories. They were practically the same person, the same image. If people saw Arthur, they'd ask for Thomas. He didn’t want to be like that man. He wanted to be the furthest thing from that bastard.

Arthur gave a sigh as he looked at the hair scissors he got for Isabella since her hair was a rat's nest when she first came into the house. Maybe, just maybe.. he could start anew. He never knew how short hair would look on him, but it's better later than never to try.

The hairbrush on the counter was snatched without a second thought, trying to brush through the knots. If he was gonna cut his hair (and potentially dye it. He'll have to see if he had blonde hair dye from Isabella's 11th birthday,) he had to have all of his hair straight.

After a bit of tugging, his hair finally looked neat. Just like Thomas remembered.

He didn’t want Thomas to recognize him based on appearance. No.

Precise hands grabbed the scissors as Arthur took clumps of hair and started to watch it fall into the sink. Dark strands of hair dropped down into the bowl, a new man being shaped one snip at a time.

Once the scissors were placed down, Arthur stared at the man in the mirror. His hair barely reached his shoulders, and he looked like a whole new person now. More Jeffery-looking instead of Thomas.

Character I find interesting : Either Arthur(since I like to see how he suffers plus how depression and trauma can really fuck a dude up) or Thomas (pelt him with scolding 8 balls).

yuka até ficou um tanto receosa de se aproximar, a forma como o outro estava parecia que qualquer ato ou palavra que dissesse poderia ser grosseira demais. a primeira coisa que preferiu fazer foi se sentar ao lado dele, as mãos que se esfregavam, inquietas na tentativa de fazer o cérebro pensar em como acolhe-lo. os olhos preocupados que o fitavam por completo. depois de uma respirada profunda, a mulher pareceu criar coragem, levando a mão pras costas dele, fazendo um carinho ali sutil. ela era péssima naquilo. "você não pode ficar miserável." ela falou no timbre de sempre. "não quando não sou eu a culpada por isso." então teve outra pontada de coragem, podendo olha-lo agora diretamente, com um sorrisinho, mostrando o tom de brincadeira. ela subiu a mão para as madeixas do outro, fazendo um breve cafuné. "vem cá." sinalizou com um movimento da cabeça, querendo deita-lo em seu ombro enquanto o abraçava de uma forma desengonçada. ela era realmente péssima naquilo, mas esperava que funcionasse.