What have I done! The Sequel by HairNoMore

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Liam arrived on the first day of medical school feeling a strange mix of pride and unease. He loved how he looked now — the sharp high‑and‑tight, the bold tattoo sweeping across his arm, the small silver hoop in his ear — but as he stepped into the lecture theatre, he realised instantly that he stood out.

Everyone else looked… standard. Neat hair. Neutral clothes. No visible ink. No piercings. He felt the old flutter of self‑consciousness, but it didn’t take root. He’d earned his place here. He’d earned himself. And to his surprise, people were warm. Curious. Friendly. A few students complimented his tattoo. One asked about his training routine. Another said she wished she had the confidence to get a piercing.

But the strangest thing was how the lecturers treated him. Whenever a question was fired into the room, eyes landed on him.

"Liam — thoughts?"

"Liam, what structure is this?"

"Liam, come up here a moment, we’ll use you for the demonstration."

At first he thought he was imagining it. But no — it kept happening. He didn’t mind. If anything, it made him sit straighter. When he got something wrong, he grinned, shrugged, and thanked the lecturer for the correction. His classmates noticed. They respected it. They respected him. And slowly, something shifted in the cohort.

One day a group of guys turned up, each with number 1 buzzcut, Liam wondered if it had been the result of a rugby team night out. A quiet guy from the back row turned up with a fresh fade. A few students got small piercings. Someone else revealed a new tattoo during anatomy lab.

Liam didn’t think he’d started anything. But he could feel the ripple.

One afternoon, he spotted Sarah sitting alone in the courtyard, staring at her coffee as if it had personally offended her. "You look miles away," he said, dropping into the seat beside her. She sighed. "It’s Paul."

"Paul?"

"A guy in my tutor group. And he lives in my hall. He’s… struggling. He comes in at the last second, leaves immediately, sits alone in lectures, eats alone. I’ve tried talking to him but he shuts down. I’m worried about him." Liam nodded slowly. "I’ll try."

It wasn’t easy at first. Paul was polite but distant, always ready to retreat. But Liam persisted — gently, never pushing too hard.

"Coffee between lectures?"

"Mind if I sit here?"

"You heading to the library? I’ll walk with you."

Weeks passed, and something thawed. Paul turned out to be funny — dry, sharp, unexpectedly witty. But beneath it all was a deep insecurity.

"Everyone here is smarter than me," he admitted one day. "Better than me. I don’t fit." Liam recognised that feeling. He’d lived it. "You fit just fine," he said. "You just haven’t given yourself the chance to see it."

Eventually, he coaxed Paul into joining him at the university gym.

The first sessions were rough. Paul was shaky, unsure, constantly apologising for being slow or weak. But Liam and his gym friends treated him like one of their own.

"Good rep, man."
"Nice form."
"You’re getting stronger already."

And Paul was getting stronger. His posture changed. His voice grew steadier. He started cracking jokes. He grew a goatee that suited him more than he expected.

But one thing still held him back.

"I want a short haircut," he confessed one evening. "Like yours. Or like the other guys. But… what if I hate it? What if everyone stares?" Liam smiled. "Then let’s do it together."

They found a small barbershop tucked between a bakery and a bike repair shop. Warm lighting. Friendly atmosphere. A barber with calm eyes and a steady hand. Liam explained the situation. The barber studied Paul’s face — the new muscle definition, the tentative confidence, the goatee. "I know exactly what’ll suit you," he said.

Paul swallowed hard and sat down. The cape snapped around his neck. The clippers buzzed to life. The first pass was decisive — a clean, bold sweep up the side of Paul’s head. A wide stripe of pale scalp appeared. Paul’s eyes widened, but he didn’t flinch. The barber worked methodically, taking the sides down tight, high, sharp. Then he blended the top, leaving it short but textured, something that emphasised Paul’s jawline and the new strength in his shoulders. As more hair fell, Paul’s expression shifted from fear… to curiosity… to something like awe. When the barber clicked off the clippers and brushed away the last loose hairs, Paul stared at himself in the mirror.

He looked powerful. Defined. Confident. "Holy… wow," he whispered. Liam grinned. "Told you."

Paul ran a hand over the short sides, then through the cropped top. He couldn’t stop smiling.

"Let’s keep going," Paul said suddenly, breathless with adrenaline. "I want… I want the whole thing. Like you did." Liam blinked. "You sure?"

"Yes. Now. Before I lose my nerve."

So they walked straight to a nearby tattoo and piercing studio. Paul chose a small silver stud for his ear — simple, clean, perfect. He winced when the needle went through, then laughed at himself.

The tattoo took longer. He picked a design that symbolised resilience — a stylised mountain peak with a rising sun behind it, placed on his upper arm where it would show when he trained, but could be hidden away when he wanted. As the artist worked, Paul watched the lines take shape with a kind of reverent disbelief. When it was done, he flexed his arm gently, admiring the ink.

"I look… different," he murmured. "Better. Like someone I’ve been trying to be for years."

Outside the studio, Paul turned to Liam, eyes bright. "I need to say this," he said. "You changed everything for me. I was disappearing. I didn’t think I belonged here. But you… you saw me. You pulled me out of my own head. You showed me I could be more."

Liam shook his head. "You did the work. I just walked with you."

"No," Paul insisted. "You inspired me. You gave me confidence. I’ll never forget that."

And he didn’t. Over the next weeks, Paul became a different presence on campus. He chatted with classmates. He joined study groups. He laughed more. He walked taller. People gravitated toward him. He didn’t become loud or flashy — he became himself, finally unburdened.

And one evening, as Liam watched Paul joking with a group of students in the cafeteria, he felt a quiet pride. Not because Paul looked different, but he did look good, but because Paul finally felt like he belonged.

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