It was unbeknownst to him as to why anyone would ask the one crippled kid among an apartment filled with fully able-bodied athletes to head out and grab a dozen bottles of shiraz when his only mode of transportation was the bus but Adam figured his family had been trying to make it seem like nothing had changed at all ever since he returned home. Adam had scowled about having to run an errand at all while leaving the house but he was quietly thankful for the reprieve from the aggressive mothering his mum had been doing ever since she moved in. He wanted to ask exactly how long she was staying but the Bishops weren’t exactly known for their straightforward answers.
Rolling down a commercial street, Adam turned towards the closest liquor store to Octavia, the wheels of his chair bunting up against the smallest ledge at the edge of the store front. He stared balefully at it before leaning back, and with effort, bumping the front wheels up over it before aggressively maneuvering the rest of the chair up with a heavy heave. He’d been so wrapped up in trying to get into the actual place that he hadn’t noticed a vaguely familiar bobble of red hair out of the corner of his eye, staring up and bewildered at him like he’d just rolled over something.
Adam spared her all of a two second glance before looking away and continuing into the store. For all he knew, she was just another fever dream trying to guilt him into being kinder, to which his only sentiments towards as ‘bah-humbug’.
“If I had it my way, i would just kept it short forever. Of course, men like long hair. There’s no two ways about it. The majority of the boys around me were like, ‘Why did you do that? That’s such an error.’ And i was like, 'Well, honestly, I don’t really care what you think!’ I’ve never felt so confident as I did with short hair- I felt really good in my own skin.”