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At fourteen, he starts altering his own clothes, mostly because his parents refuse to buy him anything that isn't neat and proper- or at least they won't get him anything they feel advertises "delinquent son." It severely limits his options.
So he raids his mother's sewing kit, takes scissors and needles and thread and safety pins, and with no kind of instruction whatsoever he goes to town on his favorite jumper.
It looks awful, though he won't ever admit it aloud, and he suffers through two days of school with it before his mother finds out and throws a fit. He's relieved when she tosses it out, to be honest.
Somehow he manages to talk her into replacing the jumper with a black leather jacket two sizes too big. Partially because his father had to work and couldn't make the trip with them, and not at all because Jem told him their mother was especially week against his doe eyes, thank you very much. He even manages to convince her to buy him a pair of pre-distressed skinny jeans. It's a good day.
He gets better at the sewing thing. Eventually.
--
At fifteen he has what Jem calls his "big gay freak-out," though he is neither gay nor freaking out.
Actually he might be freaking out, but only because one of the few close friends he's ever had is currently the object of his affections. Whose father already hates him. Who is really into sports and marksmanship. Who sometimes seems to only tolerate him with fond exasperation because they've known each other for so long.
So yeah, maybe he is freaking out, but only a little.
--
At sixteen he gets Jem to help him shave the sides of his head, and the resulting row with his parents is one for the record books. He only barely manages to keep them from forcing him to just shave his head completely, with some very vocal assistance from his little sister. She says it looks awesome and oh can he please keep it that way and if not then she will also shave her entire head in protest and solidarity. He really, really loves her and will definitely be making her a new mix cd soon.
They make him promise to let it grow back out. He lies and says of course he will.
Rick helps him do it when he discovers his parents hid the clippers, after the second time Kieren did it at home.
--
And that's another thing; at sixteen, Rick casually ruffles his fauxhawk and runs hands through the bristling growth on either side of his head. Touches him outside of their usual friendly exchanges. Touches him.
It's more than he had ever expected or dared to hope for, and yet it's not nearly enough.
--
At seventeen his parents have mostly accepted that he's going to continue to dress and do his hair the way he wants to, never mind what anyone else has to say on the matter. They don't really approve, and they definitely don’t like it, but they're dealing. Sort of. If "dealing" can be interpreted to mean "completely ignoring the situation and privately thanking the heavens that at least their son is still polite and well-mannered."
They don't accompany him on shopping trips anymore, just give him some money and pretend he's definitely buying nice clothes with it.
He tells them the make-up he brought back from one such trip is a gift for Jem. It isn't. He suspects that maybe if they knew, it might be the final straw, one thing that his father can't ignore, the thing that will make him finally look at his son and talk to him about who he is and what he's doing and how he wants to live his life. The thought is almost enough to make him wear it around the house.
Almost.
--
He'll be eighteen in three weeks, and he's been involved in more fights the last six months than his entire life leading up to that.
Gary sees him in the make-up one day, and takes exception. Then Gary tells his pals, and they take exception, too.
He doesn't really get it. Of course he knows "how people are" about stuff like this, especially in small towns, but he can't quite grasp why someone would make such a big deal about a thing that has literally zero effect on their own life.
He's almost eighteen and he kind of hates the world, despite how much he loves some of the people in it.
--
He's been eighteen for five days and Rick's father has just walked in on them mid-snog in Rick's bedroom. He's never actually seen a person's face go that particular shade of red before; it's kind of fascinating.
In between the shouting and throwing things, Rick tries to come up with an explanation that in no way involves making out with Kieren in his bedroom.
He doesn't know what he was expecting, honestly, so he just leaves without saying a word to either of them.
He doesn't speak to Rick for a month.
--
He's eighteen and he's miserable. By now most everyone at school has heard about the incident and are either actively avoiding him (most of his friends) or glaring at him all the time (most of Rick's friends). He holds his head up and stares challengingly back at them, but he is just so fucking miserable.
Jem doesn't care about what happened, she's known forever and never cared about any of that, but she just hasn't been around much recently. She's started hanging out with Gary, of all people, learning to drink and shoot and do all the things that he was never quite rebellious enough to do.
He barely speaks to his parents anymore, and even then only to comment on the weather or dinner choices or how are your grades dear? or yes of course I'll keep an eye on Jem no I don't mind you two go have fun.
He just so fucking exhausted and he has no one to talk to anymore.
--
He's eighteen and still miserable but at least Rick and he are speaking again. Things aren't the same as before, he knows they never will be, but things can really only get better from here.
Rick gives him a denim jacket and a bottle, and they spend the afternoon of Rick's nineteenth birthday making out in a cave in the woods, and he's almost something like happy.
He's a damn fool.
--
He's eighteen and Rick is gone. Gone from Roarton, to the army. Gone to Afghanistan. Fucking gone, blown to bits in a desert so far away from home.
At the funeral, after the ceremony, Rick's father knocks him down and kicks and kicks and kicks. Screams that this is all his fault, that if Kieren hadn't tried to turn his son into a goddamn cocksucker then he never would've joined the army and never would've left and never would've fucking died.
He believes every word.
--
He's eighteen and doesn't plan to ever be nineteen.