You'd Love And Forgive Me by Zero

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hey, everyone, Zero here. This one has grief, hurt / comfort, and I needed to get it out of my head. This is a longer one. As always, comments (of all kinds) are welcome!



Prologue


Even after all these months, he can’t stop replaying the last night he saw him inside his head.

His mind is a maze and he can’t find the way out of it, and it seems every thought, every waking moment leads him back to that cold night in April, a week before his sixteenth birthday.

He remembers his heart pounding. He doesn’t know for how long he had harbored this cruelty inside him, but it had festered and he hadn’t even been aware until that night.

How dare he? How could he?

"Go die".
And that was the last thing he said to his father.
"Goodbye".

And that was what he did.

He doesn’t know if his father heard what he said, or if he misheard it. In fact, he doesn’t even know which of the two came out of his mouth.

And today, he is afraid to know the answer.



1.

"I talked to your uncle, he’s just landed, he will meet us there tomorrow as well".

His mom’s voice comes through the speakers. It’s detached, factual, nonchalant. He commands his vocal chords to produce the same tone, but they are still twisting inside his throat.

F***, why are the words not coming out? Why does he feel this knot back again?

"I’ll be back tomorrow by noon. I promise, okay?".

He measures the silence, the half-minute with his mind going blank and his vocal chords resisting his order to give an answer.

"Please, say something" his mom begs on the other side.
His voice rasps "I’m listening, mom".
"Take care, please" his mom sighs "I love you".
"Love you too, mom".

He hangs up. A conversation that lasted almost half an hour and he barely said anything to his mom. He knows she cares, he knows she worries, but f***, sometimes he wishes she didn’t.

His mom is worried, and that makes it harder for him to remain detached from everything. He wants nothing more than to cut himself off everything.

There is a knock on his door "Come in".
His stepfather leaves the door open "Breakfast is ready".

He nods absentmindedly and ties his hair up in a half-bun not bothering to say anything else.

It’s November and it’s been over six months since he last saw his dad.

And he feels incredibly alone.



"Jamie?" he asks his stepfather about his younger brother as he puts away the clean plates and the leftovers.
"I just left him at my mom’s place" the man cleans the table top "I’ll pick him up at school on Monday".

Of course, his brother is still too young. He’s just finishing preschool after all.

He wishes he was still too young as well.

He watches his stepfather, his perfectly straight back, his clean shaved face and head, his strong arms and back muscles. His class and marriage rings.

He knows his mom has a type. Men in uniform are her weakness.

Inevitably, the second love of her life is also a marine like his biological dad.

His stepfather is an instructor at Ceremonial Drill School. In other words: Worse than his dad. He served with his father somewhere at world’s end in the past. Came back injured from his last deployment. That’s when he met his mom.

"I’ll be meeting with my boyfriend later tonight" the teenager tells his stepfather.

If his boyfriend isn’t still grounded, that is.

His stepfather dries with a paper towel the top of the glass table. "Try to go to bed early, we’re leaving for the funeral early in the morning".

He pretends he didn’t hear him. He unties his hair, feeling his bangs coming loose out of the tie. His hair at the front is still too short for him to tie it back without the strands coming back to his face as the minutes pass.

His stepfather stares at him in silence with his arms crosses, as he does. Then, the words come out his mouth authoritatively.

"You’re not going to your father’s funeral like that. I’m not letting you" his stepfather announces "Put on your coat, I’m taking you to a barber".
"What".
"What you’ve heard" the man touches his shoulder "Now let’s get moving"
"I’m not going to the funeral".

He sees the stunned expression in his stepfather’s face at his words. He stops in his tracks and looks back at him over his shoulder.

"What do you mean you’re not going?".
"I’m not going" he repeated "I’ll stay here or go to my boyfriend’s place while you’re there. I’ll be fine".
"No, you have to pay your respects to your dad" his stepfather retreats to him "You have to be with your uncle and the rest of your family tomorrow, it’s important".

He feels sick in the stomach.

"F*** off".
"What do you mean f*** off?".
"He was my dad, right?" he puts a hand up against his own chest "Then I should get to decide if I want to go to the funeral or not".
"I am not letting you decide whether you go or not, he’s your dad!".
"So what of it?".
"What do you mean so what of it?" his stepfather raises a hand to his temple and then outwards "I am not letting you avoid your responsibilities to your father".
"Responsibilities to my father?" the teenager scoffs "He didn’t care about me and I don’t care about his either!".
"That’s not true, Finn" his stepfather comes closer and places a hand over his shoulder "You know it isn’t true".

His stepfather is right. But he hates recognizing it in any way.

"You know what? F*** you" he lashes out.
"Fine. F*** me" his stepfather shrugs ironically "Don’t do it for me. Do it for your dad" he shakes his head and rubs his eyelids "You know what? I’m making you do it for your dad. Not for me. In fact, not even for your dad, I’m making you do it for yourself. Because it’s the right thing to do".
"For me? What do you even know about me?" Finn buries a hand through his bangs "F***. You just don’t get it".
"No, I get it" his mom’s husband sighs.

How dare he. How can he.

"No, you don’t get it, do you?" he is seething now "I mean, for you tomorrow it’s just a ceremony, you do those all the time, for me… I don’t want to be there!".
"No, I get it, because I went through the same thing when I was fourteen" his stepfather takes a deep breath "I lost my dad. I didn’t go to the funeral. I regretted it. I still regret it".

Finn goes quiet. He tears his gaze away from the man’s. He has known him for five years now and not once has he ever exposed himself to him emotionally like this.

Still hesitant, the teenager goes to grab his beanie and his coat off the rack and heads to the door "Let’s go".

He doesn’t know who he is doing this for.

But he feels it’s the right thing to do.



2.

The drive to the barbershop is quiet. Finn stares out of the window listening to music through his earphones the entire time it takes them to get there. They are near the base and there is only a young man who might be a cadet besides them.

His feet tap anxiously while his stepfather shakes the barber’s hand and gives him a half-hug. The barber is younger than his mom’s husband. He guesses he must be in his twenties, he has hair cut into a crewcut and sharp dark eyes.

He watches the barber look his way and nod in understanding as his stepfather talks to him, his expression turning solemn.

Then, he sees the barber motion him towards the chair.

He takes off his earphones and puts them away inside his coat’s pocket. Finn removes his coat and his beanie. He shakes his hair loose, grasping the locks on his nape.

His stepfather pats him on the back and gives him a gentle smile as he goes to the leather sofa to wait for him.

Finn tries to shut down his thoughts as the barber pulls a paper stripe and secures it tightly around his throat.

His hair. His dad.

He doesn’t even want to think about that.

His dad was always at war with him for many things. His dad was always hypercritical about everything about him. That included his hair. F***. How he hated that.

And this is a truce.

The cape is covering him, it’s tied snugly around his neck and Finn looks into the mirror as the barber adjusts the height of the chair.

He sees the mane he is proud of. It’s barely touching his shoulders. Golden blond from his dad’s side of the family. It falls in waves and reflects the rays of the sun like it’s its purpose, like it was what it had come to be for.

It’s gotten him so many compliments since he started to grow it out after his parents divorced.

He started to grow it out as an act of defiance to his dad and his control.

"Cutting it short, then?" the barber has already spoken to his stepfather, but he checks in with him as he runs a comb through his hair.

Finn almost appreciates the gesture, even if it doesn’t mean anything, because the thoughts he has about this don’t matter.

"That’s right".

The barber takes a pair of shears and starts slicing off clumps of his right side first. Finn feels the weight of each lock as it lands on top of his shoulders.

He watches the steel blades snipping his hair to down to an inch, two inches in places, jaggedly, shortening his mane roughly all over.

The barber tilts his head forward, and keeps removing the bulk at the back of his head. He hears how the blades click quietly when they meet, he can almost hear the thuds of his locks falling and sliding over the cape.

Then, the scissors move towards the top of his head. Finn braces himself and starts to really feel the irreversibility of the haircut when the barber runs a comb through his bangs and shears them off brutally to a couple fingers long.

He feels his hair tie around his wrist, underneath the cape, as he clutches the arm rests tightly.

He hopes his father is happy. He isn’t sure he believes in an afterlife or not, but as he watches his shortened hair that’s the first thought that crosses his mind.

Yes, he hopes that this satisfies him, that he is satisfied that he is letting him have this one.

The barber trades the shears for clippers. He adjusts the guard and the leveler. Finn isn’t sure if the guard is a one or a two, until he sees it leave a velvet fuzz as it goes up his sideburns.

He feels numb as he watches the barber work and hears the buzz of the clippers. He feels the vibration as they press against his head. He doesn’t look at his stepfather or even at himself in the mirror.

His gaze is unfocused and detached. He has been feeling so incredibly distant from his surroundings for weeks now.

And he still doesn’t want to go to the funeral tomorrow, but he thinks that if maybe he is just there a couple hours, if he sneaks in and out of the church, until they leave for the cemetery he will be done with this.

He really doesn’t want to go to the funeral.

And maybe some divine force will make him really sick tonight or tomorrow, enough to rush to the hospital and keep him away from there.

No.

He has to do this. He has to be there tomorrow.

He watches the barber take shears and comb again to the top of his head. He snips carefully with scissors over comb, he uses his bare fingers in other places to measure and cut.

The barber leaves his tools on the counter and prepares shaving cream to clean up his hairline.

Finn glares into his reflection as the man makes circles with the brush inside a bowl. He sees the sides buzzed tight; his hair color imperceptible. The top cut short with scissors.

As he studies himself in the mirror, he sees it far too clearly.

"My dad would have wanted it shorter" he says, running a hand through the front of his hair, seeing his bangs still half an inch above his fingers.
"High and tight?" the barber asks him, getting the clippers off the hook once more "Buzz the top down to a two?".

Finn pictures his dad in uniform inside his mind. His closely cropped hair, barely a couple millimeters long.

"Take it down to a zero" he tells the barber, forcing himself to keep his voice steady.
"Are you sure?" the young man holds the machine with his fingers near the guard.
"Finn" his stepfather also comes forward "You can leave it like this, are you sure?".
He nods and gulps "I am".

He is doing this in his own terms, despite everything. He wants to at least try to do it.

The barber slides the guard off the hair clipper and adjusts the blade in place. Finn hears the click of the switch, then the deafening buzz as the motor starts working.

He takes a deep breath as the barber lands the metallic teeth on his forehead, and then slides the machine backwards all the way to his crown.

He sees what remains of his hair tumble weakly towards the cape, tickling his face as it falls down. The last traces of his gorgeous mane disappear and he claws at the arm rests tighter.

He sees his stepfather’s eyes full of concern as he watches the barber shaving his head.

He thinks about tomorrow.

His uncle will be there. He remembers as the barber buzzes what’s left of his hair off.

In a matter of minutes, the clippers are going all over his head one last time. The barber fades the back and the sides with a double zero blade.

Then, at the end, he razors his sideburns and his nape. The cold steel of the blade presses against the back of his neck and Finn sees the remnants of his blond mane scattered on the floor as his chin meets his chest.

The barber dusts him off with a brush and unties the cape, he shakes it up in the air like a sail and Finn rubs his face with both hands.

He can feel the stubs of hair stuck to his skin everywhere, itching underneath his clothes.

He takes one last glance at himself in the mirror. This is much shorter than what his dad ever made him cut his hair.

His stepfather pays the barber and they thank him. The man throws an arm around his shoulders as they leave, and Finn takes his earphones out of his pocket again and his beanie.

"Hey" his mom’s husband stops him "Are you okay?".
"I’m fine" he answers sullenly.
"I know it’s going to sound like it doesn’t matter right now, and maybe you’re right, it’s hard for it to matter with what you’re going through but…" his stepfather tells him "I am here, for you, for anything, okay?".

His stepfather rubs his hand against his shoulder tightly, warmly.

And he holds back a heavy feeling in his chest.



3.

He walks into a sea of uniforms inside the church and feels as if he was drowning.

Finn tries to keep his head held high as he removes his beanie and walks towards the casket.

He feels the fabric getting stuck to the stubble on his head, he puts away his head cover inside his coat’s pocket.

He plays inside his mind that fateful night once more, the last time he saw his father.

‘Go die’.

He swears, he doesn’t even know if he actually said it out loud. He hopes he said ‘Goodbye’ that what came out of his mouth was a word halfway between the two.

He had muttered it, said it to himself.

But his uncle had heard it and quickly he had turned around back to him, engulfed by wrath.

‘What did you say!?’ his uncle had always been relentless ‘Come on, say it louder!’.

Finn had shut down at the sight of his father’s brother coming onto him.

‘Lance, leave him’ his dad had caught his uncle by the arm ‘Come on. Let’s go’.

And the following day, he left for war. And then, he got killed.

He wants so badly to get it out of his head.

He walks past a window, and he can see himself reflected in the glass. Dressed in a black suit, with a V-neck sweater and tie, a white shirt and black dress shoes. His head shaved military-style.

His eyes meet with those of other men, they’re passing glances, but some of them aren’t. He sees them scrutinize his face.

They recognize him. They remember he is his son.

And Finn feels exposed and vulnerable when they look his way.

He glances around, his gaze lingers over a group of women sitting at the back of the church, speaking in whispers.

"Mom, where are you?" he wonders underneath his breath.

As if his mother’s maternal instincts responded to him through distance, he checks his phone and sees a notification.

"Finn, sweetie, I’m on my way, there is a horrible jam to get out of the airport, so I’m running late, but I swear I’ll be there. If not for the funeral, at the cemetery" he listens to her voice message and puts his phone away.

He sighs deeply. He wishes his mom was already here before they arrived.

His stepfather stops to greet his brother and sisters in arms. He salutes the officers and he quietly retreats towards the front. He doesn’t to want to stand still in a single place long enough for someone to find him.

Finn reaches the casket. He sees the flowers around it. One of the arrangements reads his stepfather’s and mother’s last names.

"You’ve got nerve showing your face" he feels a hand clasp the back of his neck "You broke his heart, Finneas".
"Uncle" his entire body tenses painfully at the mere sound of the voice of his father’s younger brother.

Once, he was fond of his father’s younger brother. They used to be close, he used to want to go anywhere and everywhere with him. Those days seem very distant now.

He braces himself as he sees his uncle walk in front of him, stand between him and the casket. He is wearing his dress uniform, his head with a fresh high and tight, brutally short, and stands tall and he seems more intimidating than ever.

"Well, look at you" his uncle looks him up and down and smirks at him "All respectable and properly shaved, you look like a man, at long last".
"I…" Finn feels at loss for words, his hear starts racing.
"You shaved your hair thinking I wouldn’t recognize you if you did? That I would somehow see you and think you’ve changed?" his uncle runs his hand from the front of his head towards the back, and he can hear the rasping sound of the stubble as he does.
"Uncle" he tries to speak again.
His uncle grabs his shoulder, trapping him in place and lowers his face to his height. "Go die. That’s what you said to your dad, wasn’t it, Finneas?".

He feels the tears start to prickle at the corner of his eyes and breaks eye contact with his uncle, his breath becomes shallow and sharp.

He wants to disappear into thin air.

"Lance" his stepfather gets between him and his uncle "Back off".
"Seb, are you really going to defend this ungrateful…?" his uncle retorts at his mom’s husband.
"That’s enough!" his stepfather stands up to his father’s younger brother.
"He told him to go die!" his uncle accuses him.
"Are you out of your mind?" his stepfather gets into his uncle’s face "How can you say that?".
"Tell the truth, Finneas" his father’s brother pats him on the shoulder "Stop being a coward, for once, will you?".
"Finn" his stepfather looks at him, expectantly.

His sees the unforgiveness in his uncle’s steel eyes. He feels the weight of his guilt and his grief crushing him.

"I did" he feels the knot inside his throat "And I’m sorry. And I didn’t mean it" he becomes aware of how his self-restrain abandons him with every word he says "Uncle, I’m so sorry…".
"Finn…" his mom’s husband stands closer to him.
"I’m so sorry…" he hears his voice start quivering "And I was so scared to come here. I’m so ashamed of the things I said, and I would to anything to take them back!" he rubs his eye, he’s crying and he can’t hold it back anymore "I know I can’t and I know it doesn’t make a difference, and it doesn’t mean anything, and it doesn’t matter, my dad is still gone and…" Finn chokes with his words.
"No, it does make a difference. It does matter" his stepfather holds him by both shoulders.
"Uncle, I’m so sorry…" Finn looks at his father’s brother "I really am… I didn’t mean to hurt him… he was my dad and I love him and now…".

His uncle takes a deep breath. The walls he had put up between them dissipate slowly.

"I know" his uncle tells him and then wraps his arms around him "Come here. It’s okay".

Finn feels his uncle hug him tightly against his chest. He cups his shaved head inside his hand. He is reminded of his strength. He no longer feels vulnerable or alone.

"I forgive you" his uncle’s tears fall over his shoulder, staining his suit "Your dad would have forgiven you".

He realizes how much his uncle is also hurting. How he is grieving the loss of his older brother as well and struggling to come to terms with everything. Just as he is.

Without giving it another thought, he hugs his uncle back. He feels him caressing the back of his shaved head tenderly and he feels a weight being taken off him.

His uncle is also his family. His stepfather is his family. Despite everything. He feels ready to let go of everything.

He feels himself letting go of the resentment and the guilt he has been harboring for so long.



At noon, Finn puts on his overcoat and walks out to catch a breath of fresh air. They will leave for the burial in half an hour. He needs a break and to be somewhere quiet for a while.

He needs to clear his mind for a couple minutes.

He catches sight of his uncle in the church’s garden. He is alone. His uncle doesn’t take too long to see him as well and gestures him to go there.

Before long, they’re reminiscing his dad.

"He was my brother, Finn. I know he was a pain in the ass" his uncle rolls his eyes.

Finn smiles. He laughs for the first time in weeks and his heart feels lighter.

"I know you and your dad had your differences. But he loved you, Finn. In his own ways. He really did, even if it was hard for him to show it" his uncle reassures him.
Finn swears underneath his breath "I loved him so much".
"I know you did. Your dad never doubted it either" his uncle searches inside his pocket "He wrote you a letter… I saved it for you".

Finn takes the envelope from his uncle’s hand. It’s his dad’s handwriting. He lets a bittersweet smile come to his face and puts it away. He doesn’t want to read it yet. He doesn’t think he can take it.

"Thanks, uncle. It really means a lot".
"You’re welcome" the man makes a pause "Just to be clear, I didn’t mean what I said earlier… I know how much you like your hair long, it really means a lot that you cut it to pay respects to your dad, don’t think I don’t appreciate the gesture".

Finn runs a hand across his shaved head. It still feels so strange to touch the stubble and not feel his bangs or his hair falling down his shoulders.

"He’d be thrilled to see I finally shaved my head" he scoffs with a smile.
"Yeah, he would, why pretend otherwise" his uncle rubs the stubble roughly, playfully and Finn slaps his hand away.
"I miss him so much" the teenager sighs, putting his hands inside his pockets.
"I know and I miss him too" his uncle puts a hand over his shoulder "And I love you too, in case you didn’t know it".
"I love you too, uncle" he says it, and he remembers that he does, he always has.
"I’m going back in. Are you coming?"
"I need five minutes more" Finn confesses.

His uncle nods in understanding.

And Finn is glad his uncle came back.



4.

Once back inside, Finn approaches his stepfather. He has just finishes talking to the rest of the honor guard and the pallbearers and he notices him right away.

"You were right. This was the right thing to do".
"Sometimes, Finn, the right and the hard thing to do are the same" the man throws his arm behind his neck "I’m proud of you".
"Thank you, for pushing me to do the right thing" he tells his stepfather.
"No need to thank me" his stepfather squeezes his shoulder "By the way, Tom is looking for you".
"Tom is here?" he feels a sense of urgency at the mention of his boyfriend.
"Yes, he is" the man nods.
"I haven’t told him I shaved my head" Finn lets out a breath and grimaces "Let’s see how that goes".
"That boy really loves you, Finn. It will be fine".

He looks at his stepfather over the shoulder and tells him he’ll go look for him.

And he knows he isn’t alone after all.

---