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Max runs their thumb over their knuckle, watching the skin move with it. If their leg bounces any harder they may start jostling the entire trailer.
It's five in the evening on a Sunday. The sun is setting, and the rapidly increasing lack of light only unsettles Max more. The Munson trailer smells like weed and air freshener with undertones of old socks as always.
Eddie’s rifling through his CDs, trying to find the Kate Bush one hidden in the back. He promised to put on their music for this. Not without being a total ass about it, of course. The elitist he is. At least their shit is more than just heavy guitar.
(Their true feelings for each other's music is unspoken but known all the same. Max finds a few of Eddie’s bands pretty likable, all things considered. Especially because it’s so him. Max holds the time he got high and admitted he admired Kate Bush’s experimental elements dearly to them. The bickering is too fun and too routine.)
Eddie shoots up right in a flash, CD case caught between his fingers. “Alright, here’s your pop shit.”
“Fuck off.” There’s no upset behind it, it slips out without a single thought. This is their game, the two of them.
Eddie chuckles, looking them over. They suddenly feel very conscious of how they’ve shrunk in on themself as he quirks his mouth down. They sit up right, squaring their shoulders. Their leg keeps on bouncing. Eddie rolls his shoulders back, sighing.
“It’s gonna be good, Red,” he says, crossing to tap the top of their head with the CD. They push his hand away with a little grumble.
“Yeah well, hopefully it turns out better than yours does.” That’s a lie. Eddie does good on his hair. They’ve spent too much time with those locks between their fingers when they’re bored and decide he’d look nice with a braid to not know he cuts it even.
Eddie rolls his eyes, popping the case open as he walks over to his player. “You like my hair.”
They do. “It looks like someone tried to clean a sewer with a mop.”
Eddie laughs, like he’s barking. “That’s a good one.” Max shakes their head, holding their mouth trying not to smile.
Running Up That Hill starts, and it feels like magic just like every other time before. Max can respect Eddie’s music, even if they’d never say it, but nothing’s ever made them feel like this song does before. They exhale sharply through their nose, running their tongue over their teeth.
Eddie turns sharply on his heel, “Alright. Show time.”
They’re set up in the bathroom by the time Hounds Of Love is ending. It’s way too cramped and hot in here and Max can only see from their eyebrows up in the mirror. Max listens to the opening of The Big Sky while Eddie snips the scissors in the air somewhat menacingly.
His torso takes up most of the mirror, his Iron Maiden shirt with little rips around the neck on display. There’s something in the way it hangs on his frame that presses on this thing in the back of Max’s head. The way it lays over his flat chest and straight hips. This Thing that’s gotten them into this chair in the first place. This deep and forbidden envy and desire for something they don’t know how to put into words. Or rather, they’d rather not try to put it into words.
Eddie understands, somehow. Understands better than they do sometimes, it seems. Eddie listens to their late night confessions of dejection with thoughtful eyes. Eddie treats them with a kindness they rarely receive, while still not making them feel broken. Eddie hasn’t referred to them with or as anything other than Max or Red or kid in quite some time. He didn’t even need to ask.
He doesn’t ask, even now. It wasn’t why? when Max asked him to cut their hair it was just how short you thinking, kid?
There’s this tie between them, this understanding of otherness. It’s jarringly important to them. Befriending the super-super senior drug dealer across the park was not what Max expected when they moved here, but it’s the lifeline they needed. Eddie’s a maniac and a weirdo and he’s probably, despite all odds, their best friend right now.
“Okay,” he snaps his fingers and holds his hand up with his pointer finger sticking out, “let’s wet your hair.” He leans over them to set the scissors down on the tiny sink, and then flicks the faucet handle so it turns on. “C’mon, dunk. Stop looking at me like that.”
They sigh, and begrudgingly collect their hair so they can duck under the faucet. It’s awkward being bent over like this, and this sink is small. They call it good after making sure to get their ends, and straighten up and hover over the sink with dripping hair. Eddie comes in with a towel, laying it over their head and squeezing their hair.
“This thing better be clean.” it’s muffled by the towel.
Eddie makes this suspicious and high “ahh” noise, and it’s a joke, but they don’t find it funny.
“Eddie.”
He laughs. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine, man.” They roll their eyes as he pulls the towel away. “Sit down, squirt,” he pushes down on their shoulder until they sit back in the chair. They catch their own scowl in their mirror as they do.
Eddie shakes the towel out, and then drapes it around their shoulders. “Alright,” he says as he grabs the scissors again, “I’m just gonna start chopping.” He pauses behind them, crouched down in the mirror and watching their face.
Max feels this awful dread pooling in their stomach all over again, but does their best to truck on anyway. They nod once. Eddie’s face breaks into this big stupid grin that makes some of the anxiety subside.
“Don’t move too much, or I’m gonna take your ear off.”
Eddie works all the way until Hello Earth is about to end. The low ambient noise of it doesn’t really help the tight feelings in Max’s chest. Eddie’s been turning their head this way and that, circling around them and being surprisingly quiet, for once. He’s focused in a way they’ve only seen him when he's writing out a character sheet or rolling a joint.
There’s red hair everywhere. Long strands piling at their feet and covering the towel. They think briefly of Mr. Munson coming home tonight and there still being red strands left in the sink. Eddie’s never been very thorough at cleanup.
They’ve caught gimples of his work in the mirror, but they’ve kind of been avoiding it, and it’s not like they’d get much of a good look anyway. Eddie sets the scissors down and rips the towel off their shoulders and it makes a woosh as he does, hair flying.
“Take a look, Red.” he says with some typical theatricality, but there’s nerves prodding in his tone. Max doesn’t think they’ve ever seen him nervous.
The Morning Fog has begun, with its sweet little guitar. Max swallows as they stand, hands instinctively coming to rest on the sink. Their heart stops as they meet their own eyes in the mirror.
The light
Begin to bleed
Begin to breathe
It’s shorter on the sides and back, tendrils of hair just coming over their ears. It flops over in a wave on the top in a way that kinda reminds them of Steve’s hair. Eddie had been running his hands back through it insensintely as he was finishing it up, making some final snips.
They’re not sure what they had been imagining. They weren’t even sure what they wanted when they came to him. They hadn’t really cared, they just wanted it gone.
Their throat constricts, and they remember to breathe and gasp for air.
“So, uhm,” Eddie twirls his hand in the air, arm held close to his torso, “what do we think?”
“It’s—” they blink rapidly, shaking their head in an effort to shake this monumental feeling in their chest. “It’s really good, Eddie. It’s—” It’s perfect. It’s exactly what they needed. They take their eyes off the cut to turn and look at him. Any of their usual act of animosity has been ripped away from them. “Thank you. So much.”
He smiles, his big eyes shining. “Of course, kid. I’m glad you like it.”
They’re moving before they can think about it, closing the space between them in this little bathroom to wrap their arms around his middle snugly. The new lack of weight on their head makes them grin as they lean into his chest. “Thank you.” They say again, small.
Eddie chuckles wetly, wrapping his arms around them and returning the hug with even more voracity than they had come in with. “You’re welcome.”
Being born again
Into the sweet morning fog
Eddie’s a maniac, and a weirdo, and a drug dealer, and he’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to them.