Plastic gloves rustled on his hands as he squeezed the bottle of developer, making that rude noise that comes with forced air. Tearing open the packet of bleach, he emptied it into the see-through plastic tray, tapping the packet on the edge to get every last bit. With the plastic application brush, he stirred them together until it was the consistency of toothpaste, then on his already sectioned hair he swiped it onto the midshafts and ends, working it deep into the black hair with his fingers. He had done this so many times before that his mind began to wonder. And a lot had happened in the recent past to wonder over.

The morning after he'd had shown up at Jason's apartment, they'd laid in bed side by side—without the pillow wall—the blankets to their waists. David was on his left side, eyes closed, arm bent under his head on the pillow, wearing one of Jason's t-shirts and still in his hat. Outside, it continued to snow, the glow and brightness that comes with light reflecting off the icy crystals hidden by curtains. On his back with one arm under his head, Jason looked at David in the dimness.

"Why did you do it?" he asked quietly. "The blond hair and your brother's clothes."

David opened his eyes but did not raise his gaze. Dark lashes shadowed pale cheeks. "I wanted to see what it was like," he said quietly, "to be him. And..."

"And?"

"I missed him." His dark gaze rose just to where he began to toy with the pillowcase. "We used to look alike."

"You're a natural blond?"

David nodded.

"Hmm."

"What?"

Jason shook his head. "Nothing," he said. Then he smiled and bit his bottom lip.

David glanced up, caught the look, and gave a faint half smile. "Are you picturing it, Major?"

"Maybe."

David chuckled. "Sorry," he said, lowering his gaze. "Maybe you can see it another time."

"Just as well," Jason said, turning his face towards the ceiling and closing his eyes. "I prefer brunettes," he added, with a one-eye look and a smile.

David looked startled, then laughed, his quiet, soft breathy laugh with a flash of teeth. "You're getting bolder, Major," he said. "What happened to me being a minor?"

Jason's smile vanished, replaced by a deep, severe frown.

"Sorry," David said. "I shouldn't have—"

"No," Jason said quickly, his legs stirring under the blankets. "No, it's not that. I just—you shouldn't be here because you are a minor." He looked at David. "What happened shouldn't have happened."

Looking into the green eyes, dark and serious, filled with concern—and hopefully other things—for him, David's heart fluttered in his chest. He looked away, but Jason continued to look at him. Even in the dimness he could see the shadows that were the bruises at David's eye and lip and his anger flared. But then his gaze went to the rest of the pale face, the small nose, narrow forehead, pointed chin, and other emotions rose.

Raising his right arm, Jason grazed the back of his hand along David's arm, brushing warm, exposed skin and soft t-shirt.

David shivered, and Jason stopped, lifting his hand away. After a few moments, he touched his hand to David's arm once more. He grazed down to the pale elbow, then up. As he moved down again, David lengthened his arm, so Jason's hand went all the way down to his wrist, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When it got to the end, David slid his fingers against the warm, dry palm as he took the hand. Jason's gaze followed his movement, and he let their fingers intertwine, thin and pale alternating with strong and tan, slipping and rubbing and brushing against each other.

After a while, David brought their clasped hands up between them on the bed, curling it close and holding it comfortably against his chest. Closing their eyes, they drifted back to sleep as outside snow covered the world.

**

With the help of a bowl to dip water, David rinsed the bleach from his hair in the shower. Head bent forwards, he watched the white paste dissolve into a grey swirl down the drain. Dipping more warm water from a bucket, he poured it over his head, feeling the warm liquid flood his scalp and back of neck. The smell of bleach was strong in his nose, and he wiped water from his eyes before squeezing them shut to soak his head again.

What followed that morning with Jason had only reinforced their decision for David not to stay with him. When the snow had let up, Jason had ventured out for food and hair dye, and while in the only twenty-four hour convenience store, he had run into Bailey.

The teacher looked down at the two boxes of black dye in the Major's basket, and Jason could see the suspicion deepen. "Not really your color, is it, Major?" Bailey had said, his voice causal but unmistaken in its accusation.

"It's, uh," Jason glanced down at the boxes. "It's not...for my head." It was technically true.

Bailey's eyes narrowed, and Jason met them with a wide smile. "I'm going to be honest with you, Travis," Bailey had said, standing with him at the end of the dairy isle. "I used to think you were a stand-up guy. You're a veteran who served your country and I respect you for that. Not much of a sports fan, but I could look past that. But this thing you have with David—"

"And what thing would that be, Mr. Bailey?" Jason asked, not without politeness. He knew he should be playing it cooler, especially since David was right now at his apartment. But he was fast losing his patience with people who claimed to have David's best interest in mind, and yet who did nothing.

"You know what thing I mean," Bailey said, shifting with discomfort. "Your...relationship."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"You know damn well what I mean," Bailey said in a restrained outburst, glancing around. "You have a hold over him I just don't understand, and frankly think dangerous and inappropriate. I can't prove it just yet, but when I do—"

"You won't do a thing," Jason said. His voice had risen slightly, but he had not moved, yet Bailey had backed up a step, eyes wide and alarmed. Getting a grip on himself, he lowered his voice. "Just like you have before," he continued, speaking calmly but with flared nostrils. "When David showed up to school with bruises on his face. When David stopped babysitting. When David stopped going to school. When David was about to put this town in the rearview mirror and all of you with it. You and Ms. Davis will do what you always have: nothing."

In the charged silence, Jason had stepped around the man and was walking away when Bailey finally found his voice. "You're right," the man said, somewhat shakily. "I did nothing. Which is why I'm going to do something this time. So just you wait. This time, I'm going to save David."

Jason had paused. Now he scoffed at the word the man emphasized, and continued, calling over his shoulder, "You do that."

**

David wrapped a towel around his head and squeezed the water from his hair as carefully as he could. He would have to bleach it again, to get out all the black dye, but first he had to dry it. Leaving the towel over the door, he plugged in the blow dryer and switched it on. Immediately came the acrid smell of hot coils as hot air filled his ears and scorched his face.

After Jason had come back that day and told him about the encounter with Bailey, David had decided it was too dangerous for him to stay there. Bailey was a good man and was doing what he thought best, but he could also upset David's whole future. David wanted to be with Jason and was waiting patiently for the time when they could, but if anyone learned they were living together, it would be over for Jason, and David was not about to risk that.

"Nancy said I could stay in the back room off the kitchen," David had said, standing by the front door of Jason's apartment. "And she said I could work full time at the diner, too, if I wanted, since Earl went back to rehab."

"Third time's the charm, I guess," Jason said, making them both chuckle. "Did you get everything?"

David, who had returned home to collect the rest of his stuff yesterday, nodded. At his feet sat a green Army duffle bag with everything he owned. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. There was something he wanted to say, but he didn't know how. So, he stepped forward and took Jason in a hug.

It was the first time David had initiated one, and after a moment's surprise, Jason returned the embrace, wrapping his arms comfortably around the slender figure who smelled of his own soap and shampoo.

"Thank you," came the quiet, barely audible voice in his ear. "I didn't know where else to go."

"I'm glad you knew to come here," Jason murmured back. His grip tightened. "Are you sure you don't want to stay?"

"I want to," came the immediate reply.

Jason smiled into the slender shoulder and closed his eyes. "Call me when you get there."

"I will."

Jason made to let go, but David held on to him. Jason wrapped his arms back around the young man and would have been happy to stay that way for as long as David needed—until he felt hands slide up his back, and nails lightly scratching through the t-shirt he wore. David's body began to move against his, pressing forward, a shallow breath in his ear.

"David," came the stern warning.

David continued his advances, but his shoulders began to shake and there was the sound of repressed laughter.

"All right," Jason said, pushed him away as David began to laugh out loud. "You think that's funny? That's the reason you're leaving."

"It's still funny," David said.

Jason moved to hit him playfully in the stomach, and David laughingly recoiled. With the same movement, Jason grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him forward. Standing close, but not touching, he looked down into the dark, glittering eyes and faint smile on the thin lips. "You know," he said, his voice deep and quiet, "that you can always come to me."

David looked up at the clear green eyes, flecked through with brown, and smiled. "I know."

**

And the little back room off the kitchen at the diner was where he had spent the last two months, through the holiday's and into the new year.

Standing in front of the tiny mirror in the tiny bathroom, David bent double to blow dry his hair forwards, his head almost touching the wall. When he was done, he flipped his hair back, and looked at himself in the mirror. He shook his head from side to side, the straightened hair swishing gently with every movement, and reached up to ruffle it.

Tomorrow was February 14th, a special day to most, but it had never been particularly special to David. This year, however, he had a reason to look forward to it. This year, it was his eighteenth birthday.

And it was time for a change.

He finished getting ready in the small room, sitting on the single cot whose springs creaked loudly to lace up his boots. From a hook behind the door, he took his jacket and shrugged into it. By his feet, against the wall, was the army duffle bag he'd gotten from Jason, packed and ready. He didn't glance around the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. There wasn't much to forget.

Nancy, sitting at the diner counter with a book, looked up as David came out of the kitchen.

David paused. "How does it look?" He rose a hand to finger his hair. The ends had been bleached to within an inch of their life and were snowy white against black roots. Parted down the middle, the ends falling softly to the sides of his forehead, he felt a little exposed and cold, but good about the overall look.

She smiled. "It looks good," she said. Unexpectedly her voice choked up and she began to blink rapidly.

"Nancy?" came the concerned and slightly alarmed question.

"I'm okay," she said, laughing. She smiled at him. "It's just nice to see you...grown up." She pressed her palm to his cheek, her skin warm and clammy, his cheek too thin.

He looked at her for a moment, the dark eyes shining in the harsh diner lights. Then he stepped forward and caught her in a hug. She gasped, then held him tightly. Closing her eyes, memories of when she first met him sprang up, when he showed up asking to work in the kitchen, this shy, reserved kid of fifteen, who rarely made eye contact, and almost never made physical contact. Huddled in his black hoodie like it was armor, he seemed like he would fade into the background if you didn't focus on him. And now here he was.

"You be good," she said, breaking the hug. "Oh, gosh, Hun, look at me, I'm a mess." She flapped her arms at him. "Go on before I make a mess of your clothes. Go on." She smiled and winked at him. "I won't wait up."

Pale cheeks flushed, which made her laugh. That innocence, too, was new, and she loved to see it. She watched him turn with an awkward, embarrassed wave, and leave, jingling the bell over the door as he passed through it. Outside the wide glass window, his dark form was swallowed almost immediately by the night, but his bleached hair shined like a star all the way across the parking lot.