Ethan Goes Against the Grain by BarberedStrong

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Ethan had been planning this for weeks. He stared at his reflection in the hotel bathroom mirror, running a hand through his bleached blonde hair. It was perfectly styled, trendy, and had earned him no shortage of compliments. But he couldn’t shake the feeling—it was time for a change. Not just any change, though. He’d been obsessed with this idea for months, scrolling through pictures online of extreme, sharp, high-and-tight haircuts, particularly the military horseshoe flattop. He had kept it a secret, not even his closest friends knew. The idea thrilled and terrified him in equal measure.

On a work trip to the East Coast, he’d done some research and found a barbershop known for its old-school flattop expertise. "The Lucky Horseshoe" was tucked away in a nondescript strip mall, its windows proudly boasting "Flattops and High & Tights" in faded paint. This was it. Today was the day.

As Ethan walked into the shop, his heart pounded in his chest, his stomach a knot of nerves. The sound of buzzing clippers filled the air, and the faint smell of talcum powder lingered as he took a seat, fighting the instinct to bolt. A large man behind the counter, Reggie himself, nodded in acknowledgment.

"Morning," Reggie said, gesturing to the waiting chair.

Ethan swallowed hard and sat down. He could feel sweat forming on the back of his neck, his hands gripping the arms of the chair too tightly. His mind raced with a mixture of excitement and sheer panic. What if he hated it? What if it looked ridiculous?

"Alright, what are we doing today?" Reggie asked, draping the cape over Ethan’s shoulders and snapping it tightly at the neck. The man’s thick hands, clearly experienced, moved with confidence as he adjusted the chair.

Ethan’s throat tightened. His mind blanked. He knew what he wanted, but saying it out loud felt impossible. His fingers trembled as he pulled out his phone, unlocking it with shaky hands. He could barely steady himself long enough to find the folder of saved images. He scrolled quickly, finding the picture he’d looked at countless times—a sharp, shaved horseshoe flattop, the sides taken down to the skin.

He held the phone out to Reggie, his hand trembling so badly that the phone wobbled.

Reggie raised an eyebrow and took the phone gently, studying the picture. He glanced at Ethan, then back at the image. "You’re sure about this, kid? That’s a pretty extreme cut."

Ethan swallowed hard, his pulse pounding in his ears. He nodded, though his body screamed with nerves. "I... I’ve thought about it for a while," he stammered. "I just… I want something different. Bold."

Reggie studied him for a moment, clearly sensing his unease. "Alright," he said, nodding slowly. "I can see you’ve thought it through. But you’re shaking like a leaf. You sure you’re ready?"

Ethan exhaled shakily, forcing himself to take a breath. "Yeah," he said, though his voice came out more like a whisper. He forced himself to speak up. "I want it really short. The horseshoe. Like in the picture."

Reggie glanced back at the photo on the phone, then nodded again, his expression softening slightly. "Okay," he said, reassuring. "We’ll do it right."

As Reggie fired up the clippers, the buzzing filled the small shop, and Ethan’s pulse quickened. His hands clenched beneath the cape. He couldn’t help the small wave of panic that rose in his chest. What was he doing? Why had he asked for something so extreme?

Reggie started by taking a large section of Ethan’s blonde hair in his hand, lifting it away from his scalp. The clippers moved toward his head, and for a split second, Ethan almost stopped him. But it was too late. One decisive pass, and the hair was gone. Blonde tufts tumbled to the floor, and Ethan watched in awe and horror as his long, trendy style disappeared in seconds.

"So, you want the full horseshoe?" Reggie asked as he worked, "Shaved sides, right up to the top?"

Ethan’s mouth was dry again, his throat tightening with doubt. His heart pounded in his ears, but he managed to nod. "Yes," he said, barely above a whisper, "as short as you can make it."

Reggie nodded, his hands steady as he continued shearing off the rest of Ethan’s hair. The clippers moved with precision, buzzing the sides down to stubble. The feeling of the clippers against his scalp was almost shocking in its intensity, making him hyper-aware of the transformation happening before his eyes.

As the sides of his head were shaved down, exposing his scalp, Ethan’s heart continued to race. He could barely recognize himself in the mirror. Was this really him? Was he making the right choice? The trendy, perfectly styled hair that had been such a part of his identity was gone, replaced by something sharper, bolder, and undeniably extreme.

Reggie worked with practiced ease, using a comb and clippers to carve out the flat plane on top of Ethan’s head, leaving only the sharp, straight edges of a true horseshoe. The contrast between the shaved sides and the stark flat top was jarring—shocking even.

Ethan stared at himself in the mirror, his stomach turning with a mix of disbelief and fascination. He’d wanted this. He’d dreamed of it. But now that it was real, it felt... overwhelming.

"It’s... really short," he murmured, unsure how to react.

Reggie chuckled, running a hand over Ethan’s freshly shaved sides. "That’s what you asked for, isn’t it?" His voice was light, but he inspected his work with the critical eye of a master craftsman. "It’s a serious cut. You pull it off, though."

Ethan’s fingers trembled as he reached up to touch his scalp. The sharp edges of the horseshoe flattop felt foreign but satisfying under his fingertips. It was extreme—more than he had imagined—but something about it thrilled him. He’d taken the plunge, and now there was no turning back.

Before he could leave, Reggie picked up the phone. "You said you’re from LA, right?"

Ethan blinked, still processing everything. "Yeah, the west side."

Reggie nodded as he dialed a number. "I’m gonna set you up with a guy out there. You’ll want to keep this cut tight, and my buddy Frank’s the best when it comes to flattops. He’ll keep you squared away."

Ethan smiled weakly, surprised at the level of attention. "Thanks, but, uh, I’m not sure if this was a one time thing."

"Nonsense!" Reggie exclaimed, "this look was made for you. Besides, you have to live in it for awhile until you really decide. Trust me."

Leaving the shop, Ethan felt both liberated and nervous, like a weight had been lifted along with all that hair, but replaced with a lingering uncertainty. He couldn’t wait to get back home and show off his new look. He imagined the reactions—maybe shock, maybe admiration. But when he returned, things didn’t quite go as he’d hoped.

At the gym, in coffee shops, even on nights out, the response from other guys was... underwhelming. He caught a few sideways glances, but most of the time, it felt like he was being ignored. He didn’t get the same compliments or flirty attention he was used to. A few guys even gave him weird looks, like they couldn’t understand why someone his age would choose such an extreme, old-school style.

Ethan started to second-guess his decision. He liked the cut, but maybe it wasn’t what other guys found attractive. Was it too much? Too out there? But still, he kept his appointment with Frank, the barber Reggie had recommended. Frank was just as skilled as Reggie had promised, sharpening the angles of the horseshoe and keeping it immaculate.

"Most people don’t get it," Frank said as he worked on Ethan’s second cut. "But if it feels right for you, that’s what matters. Confidence, man."

Ethan nodded, feeling the truth of those words. He was starting to appreciate the look, even if it wasn’t for everyone. He liked the boldness, the statement it made. And maybe, over time, people would get used to it—or maybe they wouldn’t. Either way, it was his decision, and he was sticking with it.

A couple of weeks later, Ethan found himself at a dance party with some friends, still adjusting to life with his new look. The music was loud, the crowd vibrant. He was starting to feel a little more like himself, even if his flattop didn’t turn heads the way his bleached hair had.

Then, out of nowhere, a guy across the dance floor caught his eye. Tall, rugged, with a clean-shaven head. He looked older, maybe early 40s, with a tough, masculine vibe that wasn’t the type Ethan usually went for. He typically found himself drawn to guys with styled hair, the effortlessly cool type. But there was something about this man—his confidence, the way he carried himself, the undeniable strength in his gaze—that immediately piqued Ethan’s interest.

Their gazes locked, and within moments, the man was making his way over to Ethan.

"That’s a killer cut," the guy said, grinning as he ran a hand over Ethan’s sharp horseshoe. "You don’t see many guys pulling that off."

Ethan smiled, feeling a surge of confidence that had been missing for weeks. "Thanks. Took a bit of getting used to."

The man leaned in closer, his hand lingering a little too long on the back of Ethan’s freshly shorn head. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through Ethan’s body. He could feel the intensity in the guy’s gaze—an unabashed hunger that surprised him. "Not many guys have the guts to pull off something like this," the man said, his voice dropping lower. "It’s hot. Really hot."

Ethan’s heart raced. He’d been nervous about how others would react, but here was this rugged, confident man practically drooling over his haircut. The man’s fingers traced the sharp line of the horseshoe, and Ethan’s stomach tightened with anticipation. "You have no idea how good this looks on you," the man said, his eyes darkening with desire. "It’s been a while since I’ve seen a cut like this, and I have to admit, it’s turning me on."

They exchanged numbers, and in the following weeks, their connection deepened. Luke’s affection for Ethan’s bold cut didn’t fade—it seemed to grow stronger. He loved running his hands over the short stubble, tracing the sharp edges with a possessive intensity that drove Ethan wild. What Ethan had once thought was a niche look became a source of undeniable attraction between them, and their chemistry was undeniable. Before long, they were inseparable, and Ethan couldn’t believe how much Luke’s admiration for the cut fueled his own confidence.

Luke wasn’t just infatuated with the haircut—he was falling for Ethan. And as their relationship blossomed, Ethan realized that maybe the cut wasn’t for everyone, but it didn’t need to be. As long as one person liked it, it was more than enough.

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