H O N E Y ♡ joshler

1.

[trigger warning. a slur, some violence. the whole book won't be that way- this is just important for the story. you can also just skip to chapter 2 if you're not comfortable. ily]

8 years earlier

   Little Tyler tried to count how many times his mother ran her manicured fingers through his shaggy brown hair.

   He lost count around twenty-eight, but that's okay. He didn't really want to know the number. He just wanted a distraction.

   Tyler didn't want to shave his hair off tonight.

   He didn't want to shave it ever.

   He wanted long, pretty hair like mom, and Maddy, and the neighbor girl.

   Twenty-nine. Thirty. Thirty-one. Thirty-two.

   "Why do i have to cut my hair off?" the small boy looked up to his mother from where his head lay on her lap, his big, umber brown eyes bloodshot and rimmed with tears. His tiny voice was just above a whisper and an octave higher, threatening to crack with sobs.

   His mother's smile was sad, almost guilty, before she spoke.

   "Because it's getting long, baby."

   "I like it!" tyler defended, sitting upright now. his sadness had turned into red anger in a matter of seconds.

"I like my long hair!" the emotions were too strong for 8 year old tyler to contain. His eyebrows pulled together in a scowl while tears streamed down his face.

   He just couldn't understand why his parents didn't want him to look pretty.

   "How come Maddy gets to have long hair?"

   "Because Maddy's a girl," his father spat as he walked into the living room with a beer in his hand. "And I'm not raising a faggot."

   Tyler didn't know what that word meant, but he could see that it hurt his mother.

   The two on the couch became silent when he entered the room.

   Talking back was out of the question when dad got like this.

   What did he mean by 'Maddy's a girl'?

___________

   Tyler felt numb as he sat on the stool in the bathroom. His father conveniently placed it in front of the mirror so tyler could watch his hair disappear.

   He hated his father for that.

   He tried his hardest not to cry as he heard the buzzing of the razor.

   "don't cry." , "boys don't cry."

   Tyler stared at his painted purple toenails. His mind flashed back to when he bad begged his mother to paint them last week.

   The young boy quickly curled his toes in hard, in hopes that his father wouldn't see them.

    Tyler couldn't hold it in any longer. Uncontrollable tears poured from his eyes and traveled down his cheeks. He was shaking hard, though his father kept growling to "sit still", "stop crying."

   Tyler hit the floor with a hard shove from his father.

   He didn't care that he could taste metallic in his mouth, or that his hands were stained red when he wiped at his nose.

   He was just happy it was over.