Bikes, Bros and Buzzcuts - Part 2 by Drew Tetrov

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It was the first weekend of November, and the crisp air of early fall had begun to replace the lingering heat of summer. Leaves were just starting to turn, scattering hints of orange and gold across the streets of our hometown. Henry and Lukas had been gone for weeks now, settling into their college routines far from here. That left Christopher and me, Alexander, the only two still in town, carrying on with our lives as the buzz cuts we’d gotten during our biking trip grew longer and more unruly by the day.

By now, the buzz cuts were a distant memory. My hair had grown back into a shapeless middle part, awkwardly straddling the line between long and short. Christopher’s hair, which had been tightly buzzed to a neat stubble, now formed soft, curling tufts that had lost the sharp edges of its original look.

On Thursday, as I walked home from work, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Christopher.

Christopher: Hey, man. You still got the clippers? Thinking it’s time to rebuzz my head. Can I swing by to grab them, or would you mind doing it for me?

I grinned as I typed my reply:

Yeah, they’re still here. Haven’t touched them since the trip. If you want, come by this weekend and I’ll take care of it. Free on Saturday evening.

By the time Saturday evening rolled around, I had almost forgotten about the plan until Christopher showed up at my door. He had his usual carefree grin, his dark curls flopping over his forehead. It had been a while since I’d seen him, and it was strange to think how different we looked now compared to that summer trip.

"Hey," he said, stepping inside. "Thought it’d be good to catch up. And, of course, I could use a haircut."

"Glad you came by," I replied. "Let’s make an evening of it. You want a drink"

"Hell yeah," Christopher said, dropping his jacket onto the back of a chair.

We moved to the kitchen, where I pulled out a few bottles and my collection of tonic syrups. Christopher leaned against the counter, eyeing them curiously. "Fusion tonics again?" he asked.

"Yeah, I’ve been messing around with new recipes," I said, pouring gin into two glasses. "Want to try one?"

"Let’s see what you’ve got," he replied with a smirk.

We spent the next half hour experimenting, mixing different flavors and critiquing each concoction like amateur bartenders. By the time we landed on a winning recipe, we were on our second drink and laughing about the ridiculousness of the last time I’d cut his hair—outdoors with half-dead clippers and a headlamp.

Christopher ran a hand through his overgrown hair. "Speaking of haircuts," he said, "you ready to work your magic again?"

"Let’s do it," I said, setting down my glass. "Bathroom’s set up. You know the drill."

We carried the clippers and a stool into the bathroom. Christopher pulled off his shirt and sat down, his hair already looking much fuller than it had on the trip. I rummaged through the drawer to grab the clippers, which hummed to life as I switched them on.

"What are we thinking?" I asked. "Same as last time?"

Christopher tilted his head, considering. "Maybe a little shorter this time. Let’s go with 6mm."

I nodded, snapping on the guard. "Alright, ready?"

Christopher leaned forward slightly. "Do it."

I placed the clippers at the center of his forehead and made the first pass. The thick, dark tufts of hair fell away instantly, revealing a crisp, pale strip of stubble down the middle of his scalp.

"Looking sharp already," I said, laughing as I brushed some stray hairs off his face.

"Keep going," Christopher said, grinning.

I worked methodically, making pass after pass, slowly revealing the familiar uniform stubble beneath. The 6mm guard left just enough texture to feel soft but kept the hair short enough to highlight the shape of his head. The clumps of hair gathered at his feet, dark against the pale bathroom tiles.

As I finished the top and moved to the sides, Christopher closed his eyes, completely relaxed. "Man, I forgot how good this feels," he said.

By the time I tilted his head forward to buzz the back, the clippers hummed steadily, and the last remnants of his summer growth fell away. The once-full hair now formed a clean, even buzz cut that looked both sharp and practical. I turned off the clippers and brushed the loose hair from his neck and shoulders.

"All done," I said, stepping back.

Christopher reached up immediately, rubbing his freshly buzzed head. A wide grin spread across his face. "Oh yeah, that’s the stuff. Feels even better shorter."

I reached out and ran a hand over his head, laughing. "Man, that does feel good. Makes me kind of miss it."

Christopher raised an eyebrow, his grin turning mischievous. "Then what are you waiting for? Come on, sit down. Rejoin the club."

I hesitated, running a hand through my middle-parted, awkwardly long hair. I had been trying to grow it back out, thinking it looked more professional for my new job. But it was annoying to manage, and I couldn’t deny the appeal of the buzz cut—simple, clean, and freeing.

"Come on," Christopher urged. "You said it yourself—you miss it. Just go with what feels right."

I sighed, running my fingers through my hair one last time. "Fine," I said, setting the clippers down. "Let’s do it."

"Atta boy," Christopher said, clapping me on the back.

I sat down on the stool, shirtless, as Christopher grabbed the clippers. He snapped the 6mm guard back on and turned them on with a familiar buzz.

"You ready for this?" he asked, smirking.

"Let’s get it over with," I replied, laughing nervously.

He placed the clippers at my forehead and made the first pass. The thick blond strands fell past my shoulders, landing on my lap and the floor in soft piles. With each pass, the weight lifted, and the familiar feeling of stubble emerged.

"Man, this is satisfying," Christopher said, working methodically across the top of my head.

By the time he moved to the sides, I couldn’t help but reach up to feel the newly buzzed stubble. It was cool, soft, and invigorating—just like I remembered. As the clippers buzzed around my ears and neck, the transformation felt complete.

When he turned off the clippers, I stood up and turned to the mirror. My reflection stared back—sharp, clean, and confident.

"Alright," I said, running both hands over my head. "I’m back in the club."

Christopher laughed, reaching out to rub my head. "Damn right you are."

We grabbed my phone and snapped a selfie, our freshly buzzed heads shining under the bathroom light. The caption was simple: "We’re back to the buzz. Are you?"

We sent it to the group chat with Lukas and Henry, and it didn’t take long for the replies to come in.

Lukas: "Damn, boys! You’re making me jealous. Might have to join soon."
Henry: "Okay, I’ll admit—I kinda miss it too. Maybe…"

For the next half hour, we chatted and laughed about how we’d all said the buzz cuts were temporary. But now it felt like more than just a haircut—it was a tradition, a bond.

That night, as we swept up the hair and finished our drinks, I couldn’t help but feel like we were still carrying a piece of that summer adventure with us. Some things, like hair, grow back. But the brotherhood? That was permanent.

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