I didn’t do well with suddenly changing plans. I would have felt better if I’d had a couple of weeks to really ruminate over the idea of going over the Jethro’s house. I needed time to thoroughly mentally map the entire situation.

And yeah, I knew that was kind of just an anxiety thing and not really necessary and all that. Except for all those times I had been dumped into a situation unprepared and I had fucked things up because I hadn’t known what to do.

That’s the thing about autism and how it feeds into social anxiety, I think. We do fuck up. If I abandoned caution entirely, I’d fuck up a lot more and not always in ways that didn’t matter. The line between what was useful and what was self destructive was blurred. 

And frankly the whole thing was not so much within my control, either, which I supposed was the bad part. It didn’t matter if I didn’t want to think or worry about this shit. I could decide not to and literally five seconds later I’d be right back there.

Jethro was, ironically, providing the best distraction. They were painting, and he kept sending me pictures and basically live texting the entire class. He wasn’t a very good painter, which was kind of a relief to see. He had too many skills and it made me feel inadequate.

I made sure I was ready and waiting outside by the time he came to get me after school. I wanted to avoid any possibility of my dad saying anything embarrassing to him.

Jethro greeted me with a smile. He had a flower tucked behind his ear. “Hey.”

“Hey.” God, I hoped I could act like a normal human for two fucking hours. Or at least an acceptably abnormal one.

Jethro led the way down a quieter side street, off the main road. “Haven’t changed your mind about me cutting your hair?”

That was the absolute least of my worries. Could he actually cut hair? I hardly gave a shit. If he fucked it up I’d just shave it all off and probably still end up looking better than I did now. “Nope.”

“My house is about twenty minutes walk from here. Not too far!”

But more than long enough for my lack of conversation skills to become apparent. “You have paint on your hands.”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to waste time after class trying to wash it all off.” He lifted his hands up and wiggled his painty fingers in front of him. “Got places to be today.”

It took me a moment to realise he meant with me. It would never stop surprising me that he actually valued my company. “It suits you, anyway. Colourful.”

“Well, you know me.” He shot me a smile. “If I’m going to be a dirty boy, I’ll do it with style.”

And somehow the conversation kept going, and it was only minimally weird and awkward.

Jethro lived in a normal house on a normal street. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but somehow anything mundane about him came as a surprise.

He led me upstairs, and there it was. His room was much closer to my expectations.

Jethro never missed an opportunity to express who he was, and his bedroom decoration reflected that. He had a lava lamp, and fairy lights, and art prints on his walls. It was kind of chaotic, but at the same time it came together. Much like him.

The first thing he did was go over and open the little door to Linda’s cage. She immediately climbed out onto the table the cage was on and sniffed the air.

“You can say hello if you want,” Jethro told me. “She won’t bite.”

“What if I’m just really tasty?” I asked, but I offered the rat my hand anyway.

“Damn, you’re right. Maybe she’s actually on a reconnaissance mission for me to find out?”

I turned around to look at him, and then abruptly turned away again when I got an eyeful of bare chest.

He laughed. “Sorry. I just wanted to change out of my uniform. I hate it.”

I pretended to be deeply interested in a pink, yellow, and blue flag hung up on his wall. Should I have offered to leave the room? No, I should have not panicked and looked away like his nipples were something obscene. Guys changed in front of one another all the time.

Well, I’d lasted about two minutes in his house before embarrassing myself. That was something.

And then I noticed something on his desk below the flag. A single, ugly paper crane. The one I’d made him.

If something like that had been on my desk it would have just been because I’d tossed it there, but despite the clutter there was clear order to Jethro’s room. He’d kept it and even given it its own little spot on display.

“Okay,” Jethro said, and I turned around to find him dressed in a red collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up and ripped jeans. How did he make everything look so good? “Ready for your haircut?”

Jethro carried a chair into his en suite bathroom and wrapped an old sheet around me to protect me from fallen hair. He readied the rest of his haircutting tools and then started carefully combing my hair.

I wasn’t always a huge fan of being touched, but this… Yeah, I wasn’t going to complain. If he wanted to just sit there and comb my hair for a few hours, that would be fine. I even had this very concealing sheet covering me if I got too into it.

I let out a sigh, shut my eyes, and relaxed as he started trimming my hair.

About half an hour later, Jethro took a step back and said, “Okay, what do you think?”

I thought I’d happily let him keep going and shave all my hair off if it meant he’d keep touching me. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and turned to face the bathroom mirror.

And… huh. It actually looked good. I ran my fingers over the bits he’d buzzed short, then did it again because I liked the way it felt. Hello, new stim.

“So?” Jethro prompted.

“Oh. Yeah. I like it. Thank you.” I tried to smile because I was well aware I sucked at proper tone, but I caught a look at myself in the mirror and it just looked forced and awkward. Fuck. I really did like it.

“I think it came out pretty good. I’ll give you some product to rub through it after you shower in the mornings, too. Help keep it styled nicely.”

“Thanks.” And all I’d given him was a shitty paper crane. I wasn’t going to offer to pay him, though. I wasn’t making that mistake again. “Do you mind if I take a shower? I don’t want to get hair everywhere.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. There are spare towels under the sink.”

I did not jerk off in his shower. Did I consider it? Yes, of course. I was a sixteen year old boy who’d just spent half an hour being touched by the guy he had a crush on. But I did not do it and I think we should all take a moment to appreciate my restraint.

Jethro held up a hairdryer as I stepped out of the bathroom. “Do you mind if I dry your hair off? I want to see what it looks like.”

More touching? Well, if you insist… “Sure.”

So he blow dried it and then he rubbed something through it and then the touching was over again, unfortunately. But my hair looked even nicer. 

Maybe… maybe I didn’t have bad hair? Maybe I was just a lazy asshole? Well, definitely that, but maybe I could be a lazy asshole with nice hair. I just had to get it cut more frequently and dedicate some of my very limited energy stores to rubbing product through my hair once a day. I could do that, right? I guess we’d see.

“Thank you,” I said again, and I tried to convey actual feeling this time. I wasn’t very good at expressing emotions of any kind. “It looks much better now.”

“My pleasure,” Jethro said. “Maybe you could come by after school every time you have your doctor thing so I can keep it touched up? I mean, if you want to. Since you don’t like going to the hairdresser.”

I’d get to see and be touched by Jethro and I wouldn’t have to go to the hairdresser anymore? Sign me the fuck up. “Sounds good.”

“Cool. So, uh… do you mind if I take a picture with you?”

I made a face. “I always look bad in pictures.”

“Ah, but we’ve already established that I’m an expert at making you look good.”

“Okay, fine,” I relented, not because I believed him but because he’d done so many things for me and I figured he probably needed a picture of the haircut for a portfolio if this was what he planned to do with his life.

So I was a bit surprised when he put his arm around me and I realised this was more of a selfie deal. He really did just want to take a picture with me. Well, I supposed he took pictures of and with everything else, so why not this too?

He took a few pictures, spent some time going through them, and then took a few more. The one he finally showed me was… actually not bad. Was there any skill he didn’t have? Oh yeah, painting. We’d established that. Thank fuck he was mediocre at painting.

Linda seemed curious about my haircut as well, or perhaps just me in general. She climbed up my back without hesitation then snuffled at my neck with her tickly whiskers as she explored my shoulders.

Something fell into my lap and I watched as purple and silver beads scattered across Jethro’s carpet. I reached for my necklace and my stomach dropped as I found it missing.

“Oh, shit, sorry.” Jethro picked his rat up from my shoulders and returned her to her cage. “She likes to chew threw the nylon thread sometimes. I should have warned you.”

“It’s okay.” 

I wasn’t angry, I was just sad. I’d become attached to that necklace even before I’d reconnected with Jethro, and now… Well, I’d miss it.

But I couldn’t let him know how much I cared, because the answer was too much. I had too many emotions about things and I prefered nobody knew about it. Normally I’d leave the room or disengage with conversation with the person but, well, not really an option here. The best I could do right now was keep my head down and focus on picking up the beads.

“Don’t worry, I’ll rethread it for you,” Jethro said, already heading for one of his desk drawers. “Do you want me to make it any longer or shorter or change anything else while I’m at it?”

I shook my head. “I liked it how it was.”

He was fixing the problem. It wasn’t a problem any more. I took a deep breath and pulled myself back from the brink of disaster.

He sat against the side of his bed and I sat next to him and watched as he rethreaded the necklace with deft fingers. Watching him work was almost hypnotic and oddly soothing.

Jethro was just putting the clasp back on when I heard the front door open downstairs and his mum call his name.

Jethro made a face. “I guess your dad’s here to pick you up.”

“Seems likely,” I said as I began to push myself up.

“Wait,” Jethro said and gently grabbed my arm to keep me in place. 

And then I got one last bit of Jethro touching me as he helped me put my necklace back on. This had been a very good day. 

“Okay, done,” Jethro said as he leant back. “I guess I’d better return you to your father now.”

“I’m sure he’ll be so grateful.”

I hadn’t actually told my dad that Jethro was going to cut my hair, so needless to say he was a little surprised when he saw me.

“Oh,” my dad said. “You… got a haircut?”

Which was understandably confusing to him. I never just got a haircut. That wasn’t how it worked. Normally my mum would spent a few weeks gently hinting that I was starting to look scruffy, and then eventually I’d relent and she’d make an appointment and we’d go there together. We hadn’t even been at the looking scruffy stage yet.

“Mm,” I said. “Jethro did it.”

“Oh.” My dad did a loop around me when I reached the bottom of the stairs, then looked up at Jethro. “You did a really good job with it. I’m surprised he let you do it. He’s not a big haircut fan.”

“Well, I didn’t make him sit through awkward conversation while I did it,” Jethro said. “Seems to be the key.”

Was that the reason he’d been completely silent throughout the haircut? Because I’d said I didn’t like it when hairdressers talked to me? I’d assumed he’d just been focussing. But to be honest, yeah, it had been nice to be able to just relax and enjoy the experience.

My dad fluffed the top of my hair up as we stepped outside and I swatted his hand away. He grinned at me. “He really did do a good job.”

“I know.”

“He seems nice.”

“He is nice.”

“That’s good. It’s good to see you making friends.”

“Not friends. Just one,” I said as I climbed into the back of the car.

My dad climbed into the driver's seat. “Well, how am I supposed to know? You were so secretive about this friend. You could have others. It’s like I don’t know you at all.”

“Good.”

He was silent for a moment as he pulled out onto the road, and then, “So, let’s get to know one another.”

“Uugh.”

And then there was my mum.

She glanced up as we walked through the front door, and then did a double take when she noticed my hair that would have been funny if I wasn’t so tired.

“You got a haircut?” she asked, her questioning gaze jumping between me and my dad in search of anyone who could unravel this mystery.

“His new friend did it,” my dad announced far too proudly.

“Oh, a friend!” my mum said.

“The son of a coworker of mine,” my dad explained. “He seems like a nice boy.”

“A nice boy,” my mum echoed, and then looked at me. “Is he cute?”

“I’m leaving now,” I said as I turned towards my room.

“Wait!” my mum called out. “Let me touch your hair!”

“Bye.”

“He is cute, isn’t he?”

I shut my bedroom door behind me. Yeah, he was cute.