Work Text:
For Shouto growing his hair out was a freeing experience. When he was younger and came out as transmasc his father was extremely unaccepting of that fact. But that wouldn’t stop him from doing everything in his power to be perceived as a boy.
One night after a particularly gruesome fight with his father he ran into the bathroom with tears in his eyes and a pair of old kitchen scissors in his hand. He looked at himself in the mirror. The first thing he noticed was the new bruise in the shape of his father’s fist on his right cheek. The second thing he noticed was his stupid scar, the thing that will always be a reminder that he is unlovable that all he was made for was to be a weapon. The third thing he noticed was his stupid feminine and features and his stupid shoulder-length hair. He looked at his reflection longer trying to even spot one thing about it he liked.. and he couldn’t. God! Why did he have to look like this? Why did he even have to be born?
He held onto the scissors tightly in his shaking hands and brought it up to his head. He needed to change something, he needed to be seen as masculine. He was not a girl! He angrily took the scissors and chopped away at a large chunk of hair in front. Then cut another chunk, and another and another, until he had hardly any hair left.
He kept his hair short for years.
He was twenty when he finally realized that he could be both trans masc and agender. This realization was scary but freeing to him. Being a boy had been such an important part of his identity for so long and he hated change. But deep down he knew this was what he was. The term agender made him so comfortable, making him feel like even though he was masculine and liked to be perceived as a boy that he didn’t have to fit into that box.
As soon as he truly knew that this was how he felt most comfortable he came out to his partners, who of course were extremely supportive. But something still didn’t feel right. He felt a pit in his stomach.
It wasn’t until a few weeks later as he looked at his reflection that he figured it out. His scar was obviously still there, but the symbolism behind it was different now. It was a symbol of everything he had overcome, a symbol of how strong he was, and a symbol of self-love and acceptance. He ran his hand over his right cheek, he hadn’t had any fresh bruises or burns caused by his father in years, he was finally free from him. Free of all his father's high standards and expectations. He was allowed to be himself. He ran his finger down his jawline, being on T for three years has really made him feel a little better about his body. His jaw was more square and less soft, his voice was lower, and he could feel the little bits of facial hair on his chin and upper lip. He loved these little changes, but something still didn’t feel right.
Then he heard a knock on the door bringing him out of his thoughts.
“Shou?” He heard Tenya from the other side of the door. He must have just gotten home from work.
“Yeah?” He could tell his voice shook slightly.
“Is everything okay, you sound…. scared?”
“Uhh.. yeah.. I’m okay..” Shouto said knowing he wasn’t convincing.
“Can I come in?” Tenya asked with concern clear in his voice.
“Yeah..” Shouto said, sounding defeated. He felt tears prick into his eyes. Why didn't his body feel like home.
Tenya opened the door and immediately took note of the sadness in his partner's eyes. “What’s wrong Shouto ?”
“I just don’t feel right” Shouto said not really knowing how else to explain it.
“Can you elaborate on that? I’m not sure I understand” Tenya said coming up behind clearly about to wrap his arms around him from behind but stopped after thinking about his actions, “touch or no touch?”
“Touch is fine,” Shouto said before Tenya wrapped his arms around him, “ I don’t know my body just.. it doesn't feel right.. it’s not mine..”
“Do you think you are disassociating?”
“No I just.. I think I might be dysphoric? I’m not sure.. just something doesn’t feel right”
Tenya let out a hum as a sign of understanding before resting his head on Shouto’s shoulder and bringing up one of his hands to run his fingers through Shouto’s short hair. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked before placing a soft kiss into the crook of Shouto’s neck.
“I don’t know- I just-“ he shrugged, before looking back up at his and Tenya’s reflections in the mirror. Paying particularly close attention to where Tenya's hand was playing with his hair…. his hair.. Did he need to change his hair?
He didn’t say anything about his realization to his partners. For one because he didn’t know if growing out his hair was really what he needed. And two because he didn’t really feel like it was anything to be discussed, all he was doing was changing his hair. Even if it was something that was a big deal to him and was going to make him feel more comfortable. He didn’t feel like it was anything that affected their lives.
Neither of his partners really brought up the change to him, until a couple months later. The three of them were snuggled up on the couch talking about their days as Midoriya ran his hands through Shouto’s hair. At this point his hair had grown just a little bit past his shoulders.
“I really like what you’re doing with your hair, babe” Izuku said with a smile.
“Yes, I also like it as well. Before you grew it out I don’t think I could have ever pictured you with long hair, but I do really like it.” Tenya added as he also lifted his hand gently running his hand through a piece of hair that had fallen in Shouto’s face.
“Do you think you are going to grow it out more?” Izuku asked
“Actually I’m not really sure,” Shouto said, simply.
But he did grow it out more, he actually didn’t get a proper haircut for another three years. He loved his long hair. He loved when his partners ran their hands through it. He loved how when it got in the way he could just pull it up. He loved the way the red and white mixed together when he put it in one long braid. He loved when his partners would gently tuck it behind his ear. He loved everything about it.
So one day when he went back and looked in the mirror. He saw the scar, his reminder that he was strong. He saw his face clear from fresh bruises and burns. He saw his masculine features. And saw the hair that went all the way down to the bottom of his back. And he finally felt like his body was his. His body finally felt like home.