meeting a handsome barber

My hair grows close to my scalp, and it is naturally wavy. It grows in a messy direction and is very difficult to manage, so I have never been able to find a suitable barber. Two years ago, I went to a barber shop by chance, and a strong and handsome guy helped me to manage my hair easily. From then on, I became dependent on him and developed a good friendship with him.

I remember when I first walked into that barbershop, he stood up to greet me, very polite, and spoke like a mosquito. His white and tender face was revealed under his thick stubble, which formed a huge contrast with his thick arms and sexy chest muscles. But I liked him, so I let him cut my hair.

I sat down and looked at him in the mirror, wondering, “Could he be gay, too? Could he be a strong man who looks masculine but is actually soft on the inside?”

My feeling was soon confirmed.

When he was cutting my hair, he deliberately put his strong legs close to me, and sometimes even pressed the bulge in the front of his jeans against my arm, which made me feel numb. He kept calling me “handsome guy”… Doesn’t that mean he was very sure? He must be… the same kind of person.

I was thinking about what to do with him, but he had already finished my haircut. When I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes lit up. It was perfect! His craftsmanship was superb, which added a lot to my handsomeness.

He carefully helped me untie the cloth that was covering my hair around my neck, used a hair dryer to blew away the loose hair, and whispered, “Okay.” Then he leaned down and gently blew away the loose hair on my ears.

That’s how we got to know each other. I would go to him every time I wanted to get my hair cut. He also understood the style I wanted and could always make my hair perfect.

He once asked me if I had a girlfriend, and I asked him the same question, but we both said no. Later, he became even bolder and asked me where I lived and who I lived with. But we didn’t break the ice and didn’t ask each other directly if we were gay, which was quite embarrassing…

Every time I come to him for a haircut, he is always very happy and greets me with a beautiful smile: “Why did you take so long to come this time?” He seems to have been looking forward to it for a long time and even takes special care of me.

One time when I went there, he was holding a small bowl of medicine, applying paste-like medicine to a middle-aged woman’s hair, doing a foil perm. Just halfway through, half of the woman’s hair was covered with sticky paste-like hemp rope strands. When he saw me coming, he immediately put down the medicine bowl and tin foil in his hand, washed his hands and asked other barbers to help the woman with her hair. It happened that other customers came, and other barbers had to go to work, so he asked an apprentice to apply medicine to the middle-aged woman, while he came to cut my hair. The middle-aged woman’s face suddenly sank, and she clamored to return the money, and he was scolded by the manager, which made me feel guilty.

After this incident, every time I went there, I would look at the door first. If he was busy, I would quietly leave and come back later.

In the past, after he finished cutting my hair, he would use a small razor to shave the soft hair on my neck. But since I was diagnosed with AIDS, I refused him. I didn’t want to bring danger to others, but I wouldn’t tell him the truth directly, so I had to say that I was afraid of it being dirty. Who knew that the next time I went to him for a haircut, he took out a new blade and put it on the razor after finishing the haircut, saying, “You are afraid of it being dirty, right? I’ll put a new blade on you, so you don’t have to worry.”

I was so moved. But he didn’t know that I was not protecting myself from others, but from infecting others. I couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t use the blade he had used to shave me on others. I was suddenly at a loss, so I could only say hesitantly, “I’m afraid of pain, afraid of sharp things.” When I said this, my face was burning with shame. Afraid of pain? Afraid of sharp knives? This completely destroyed my brother Liuxu’s masculinity and made me lose face in front of the handsome guy I liked.

He was startled: “I’ll be gentle, it won’t hurt.” Then he smiled and leaned over to shave me. His fingers had already touched my neck, and his voice was as gentle as the fragrance of lotus.

I was at a loss as to what to do, and suddenly I shouted, “Oh no! I don’t want it. Stop being so annoying!”

His smile froze and his hand holding the razor froze in mid-air.

My words were like a double-edged razor, one side of which pierced straight into his heart.

Then my heart was also scarred.

He is in pain, and I am in more pain.

The wounds between us will probably never heal.

From then on, I never had the courage to look for him again.