"razor..monster..bad monster.." he muttered quietly to himself, using the scissors across his hair roughly.

he didn't like how he looked. his classmates would often feel afraid of his presence despite how he was only being himself. his friendliness misinterpreted into hostility.

days went by, and you noticed a bag full of silver hair hidden in the bathroom cabinet. chunks were cut off, and the fact that razor kept his hoodie up even in the house made you connect two and two together.