Semester started with a thump, but Christian was glad for it. He had missed his classes and the carpeted interiors of the library. The hush inside its walls, the smell of paper, and the muted sounds of people browsing the shelves was extremely alluring to Christian, who enjoyed sitting there even when he didn’t have to. When he was there, with his books and his silence he could pretend the hazards of real life didn’t exist...

So the fact that the first day back brought a slew of assignments didn’t have too much sting. A glance at his schedule told him he should be planning for his finals soon, so he knew the sooner he got back into academic gear the better.

It also meant that Brendan was back to spending most of his time at his dorm. He seemed mildly grumpy about it, but it was soon outweighed by seeing all his own college friends again. He vowed that he wouldn’t let either of them slide back into being hermits, but Laurel told him if he interrupted her studying for finals he would end up with the kind of injury that would exclude him from any future sports. Brendan took the hint.

The ‘Out and Proud’ parade was the first Saturday back, and scheduled to start from 2 pm. The end time was not specified in any of the posters, and by that Christian knew it would be that kind of party, the kind that went on until the last person had either passed out or been carted off to hospital. But the feeling of the parade permeated the week preceding it. He saw increasing amounts of rainbow coloured bunting and décor put up around the campus grounds as the week went on, and the general mood seemed excited. It didn’t seem to matter if you were gay, straight or anything in-between; it was an excuse to party.

It was strange though, when Christian considered it. The campus was clearly an LBGT friendly one, but there were still people walking around and deliberately hurting gay people. The world moved on, but people still held onto hate. He hadn’t even thought about Laurel’s warning since that night. He hadn’t felt unsafe. It still seemed more like a horror bed-time story, unreal and drawn in primary colours. But maybe it was because he rarely left the house and if he did, it was always in company.

Christian hadn’t texted Jazz again, and Jazz hadn’t either, much to Christian’s relief. But the promise of meeting each other at the parade buzzed in Christian’s brain, even though there was no set time or place. Laurel even agreed to come along, which of course made Brendan ecstatic. Christian wondered if the parade had even been on his to-do list, but since Laurel was going, it was suddenly too good to miss. Christian felt fondly towards Brendan for being so eager to spend time with his sister that he was willing to go to a pride parade.

Christian felt emboldened by the thought of seeing Jazz again and had persuaded Laurel to dye his hair.

“Look, it’s not like it will be difficult. Your hair looks as absorbent as kitchen paper. I’m just saying... are you sure?” She asked, her reflection in the mirror doubtful.

“Yes.” He said, even though he wasn’t. He had never in his life done anything to his hair except cut it. Dyeing it was a massive step out of his comfort zone. Never mind going pink.

Christian preferred neutral colours. If he couldn’t find grey clothing, he would settle for earth tones or black. He didn’t do colour. Colour meant standing out.

“The point of the parade is to stand out.” He added, to himself and her.

“Ok, but are you doing this for the parade, or are you doing this because Jazz will be there?” she frowned at him.

Christian pressed his lips together. It was pointless to lie, but Laurel pointing out his motivations made him more nervous. He resented it, because she was supposed to be supportive.

“Look, yes, it’s partly because of that. But also,” he paused, “because of what you said.”

“What I said?”

“I’m a ghost. Ghosts don’t have colour.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did. You said I was a ghost in my own life.”

“It was a metaphor for your behaviour, not a direct comment on your appearance.” She scrutinised his reflection. “They certainly don’t appear pink.”

“Sometimes you need to do something on the outside before you can do it on the inside.”

She looked at him, knowing he wasn’t talking about the colour, before sighing and turning her attention to the box of temporary dye she had in her hand. “Look I’m going to assume your hair will suck this up like a dry sponge, so I’m going to dilute it.”

In the end, it came out a pale, pastel pink. Christian was relieved, as the thought of having violently neon hair had not filled him with glee. This was a good middle ground. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Laurel admired her handy work while he towelled the hair dry.

“Nice. It actually looks really nice.” she said.

Chris glanced at it in the mirror, for the third time.

“You sure?”

“Too late for regrets, Casanova.”

“Shut up.”

It did look good though, and contrasted well with the blue of his eyes. Intense pink wouldn’t have worked, and probably made him change his mind about leaving the apartment at all, so he was glad for Laurel’s foresight. He rubbed a hand through it.

“It’s getting long. Can you cut it?”

“Um, I don’t know. I’ve never cut hair. I could mess it up.”

Christian shrugged. “It’s just hair. It’ll grow back.”

Laurel was still assessing his hair. “True. But it does look kind of nice longer though. You’ve never grown it before.”

It was true, he hadn’t. He had always cut a number two every three or four months before. Since moving away, he hadn’t really thought about it. The act of putting gel in it had fallen away in recent weeks too. He looked at the mirror again, trying to assess if this length suited him or not. But he was distracted by the colour.

“You look like the gender-ben Princess Bubble-gum. From ‘Adventure Time’™.”

“Who?”

“Never mind. Come on, we’ve got to go get Brendan first remember?” Laurel coaxed. She wasn’t terribly excited about the whole day; a parade and her brother in one go, but she wasn’t completely opposed either, which was as good as approval, for Laurel.