31 Days of August

Day 25: The Dyed Hair

Day 25: Write a scene with a character who has dyed hair.

"Wait, what?" I exclaimed, staring at him in absolute shock. I was stunned. Legit. If he had hidden this part of himself from me, then what else was keeping? Maybe he was a drug dealer. Maybe he was keeping an alligator in his bathtub. Maybe he was a spy. The possibilities were endless, but those weren't what I was thinking about. No, I was more focused on the fact that everything in our relationship had the potential to be lie. Like, was his name even Houston? Did he really love me? Was ice-cream actually his favorite food? The questions went on and on.

"I...I dye my hair," he repeated, biting the edge of my lip for anticipation of my reaction.

Gaping, I reached out and ran a hand through his gorgeous hair. Like, that hair was pretty much half the reason we were together. It was so beautiful. He was so beautiful. And it was all a lie. He wasn't actually blonde. Wow. That type of thing could really put a damper on a relationship like ours--in fact, it had. "What--what color is it naturally?" I questioned, removing my fingers from his scalp.

"Brown," he answered with a shrug.

"Like, what shade of brown?" I asked further.

"Dark brown."

"Like black?"

"No, brown."

"So, like, a coffee shade?"

"Sure," he nodded, though I had a hunch that it wasn't the case.

I inhaled a deep breath of air, trying to handle the situation as best I could. It was really alarming to only be finding out now that your boyfriend of, like, eight months really had brown hair when during your entire relationship he had had blonde. Gorgeous blonde. Like, Houston's hair was the color of corn, but less yellow and it was just so pretty. And now I knew that it was just a lie. Fake. Dyed. "Why--why aren't your roots brown?"

"I, uh, get them dyed too," he looked away from me and down at the ground.

"Why?" I found myself asking.

"Because I wanted to be different and thought that going blonde would be cool," he replied easily enough.

"How--how long have you been, um, dying your hair?" 

"Since I was fourteen, maybe?" he gulped, fidgeting slightly under my stark gaze.

"Is there anything else you're not telling me, Houston?" I sighed. "Are you eyes really blue, or are they just colored contacts?"

"No, my eyes are really blue," he assured me with a confused tone.

"Is that it?" 

He exhaled a bit of air, and then took my hands in his, looking into my brown eyes with his apparently naturally blue ones. Gosh. So much pretty. "Yes, babe. I swear. The dyed hair. That's it."

"So, you still love me?"

"What do you mean 'still'?" His eyebrows scrunched together. Huh. They were brown. Not blonde. Wow. I was really perceptive sometimes. How'd I miss that one? "I've always loved you, babe. I swear."

"So, no more lies?"

"How is not telling you that I dye my hair a lie?" he scoffed with a roll of those pretty blue eyes of his. I glared at him. He sighed. "No more lies."

"Good," I smiled. 

"So, do you dye your hair?"

"Well, I do get it highlighted..."