Working In A Beauty Salon - Part 4

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Later that night, after finishing dinner, Hugo found himself pacing in his small apartment, still lost in thought. Too much had happened today. Between the awkward taxi ride, Max’s teasing, and his own confusing feelings, he felt like his mind was spinning.

Whenever he felt overwhelmed, there was only one person he could turn to—Bella. With a deep breath, he grabbed his phone and called her.

Bella answered on the second ring. “Hey, little bro! How was the first official day with bangs?”

Hugo groaned. “Oh God, not you too.”

Bella laughed. “What? They look great! I saw the picture Kate sent me.”

“Remind me to block Kate,” Hugo muttered.

Bella chuckled. “So, what’s up? You sound… I don’t know, weird.”

Hugo hesitated for a second before sitting on his bed. Should he tell her everything? Yeah. He needed to. So, he did. He told her about how the taxi driver mistook him and Max for a couple, about Max’s teasing, and about his own confusion over why it was bothering him so much.

Bella listened patiently, not interrupting until he was finished. Then, she spoke.

“First of all,” she said gently, “I think you’re overthinking it.”

Hugo sighed. “Maybe.”

“But,” Bella continued, “I also think you’re changing—and that’s okay.”

"Hugo frowned. “Changing?”

Bella hummed. “Yeah. Think about it. A few months ago, you wouldn’t have stepped foot in a salon unless I dragged you. Now? You’re working there. You’ve made friends. You’ve started caring about your appearance—even if Kate and I had to push you a little.”

Hugo stayed silent, absorbing her words.

“You’re softer now, Hugo,” Bella said warmly. “More open. More… yourself.”

Hugo swallowed. More himself?

Was this who he really was?

“I don’t know…” Hugo murmured. “It’s just weird, you know? I never thought about myself like this before.”

Bella chuckled. “Well, that’s part of growing up. You’re figuring yourself out. And hey—if Max or anyone else teases you, just own it. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for how you look or act.”

Hugo smiled softly. 

“Thanks, Bella.”

“Anytime, little bro,” she said. “Or should I start calling you little sis?”

Hugo choked. “BELLA!”

She burst out laughing. “Relax, I’m just messing with you! But seriously, don’t stress too much, okay? Just be you.”

Hugo sighed but smiled. “Yeah… okay.”

As they hung up, Hugo lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Was Bella right? Was he really just becoming more himself? And if so… Who was he really becoming?

The next morning, Hugo woke up earlier than usual. He lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, thinking about his conversation with Bella the night before.

"You're softer now, Hugo. More open. More… yourself."

Her words had been running through his head all night. Was she right? Shaking the thoughts away, he got up and headed to the bathroom.

Turning on the shower, Hugo stepped in, letting the warm water wash over him. For years, he had never really cared about his hair—he just kept it clean and tied back. But now, things felt different.

Maybe it was because he was constantly surrounded by beauty experts at the salon. Maybe it was because people kept commenting on his looks. Or maybe… maybe he actually liked taking care of himself.

Reaching for the shampoo he had gotten from the salon, he carefully massaged it into his long hair. After rinsing, he used the moisturizing conditioner they had recommended.

It left his hair feeling softer than usual. When he stepped out of the shower, he grabbed a towel and gently patted his hair dry, instead of aggressively rubbing it like he used to.

Then, he walked over to his dresser, where a few leftover products from the salon sat. A bottle of lotion and some moisturizer.

He had never really used this stuff before, but Kate had given them to him after a facial session, saying, "Your skin deserves love too, Hugo!"

At the time, he had laughed it off.

But now?

Now, he picked up the bottle of lotion and applied a small amount to his hands before rubbing it over his arms and neck. Then, he took the moisturizer and carefully applied it to his face. The cool cream felt nice against his skin. As he stared at himself in the mirror, he noticed something— His features looked softer.

His skin looked clearer. And for the first time in a while, he actually felt good about how he looked. Maybe Bella was right. Maybe he was changing.

And maybe… he didn’t mind it. After finishing his morning routine, Hugo made his way to the kitchen. As he took a sip, he cracked a couple of eggs into a pan, letting them sizzle. It was a simple breakfast—coffee and eggs—but it was enough to get him going for the day.

After eating, he got dressed.

He pulled on a black sleeveless T-shirt, a pair of fitted jeans, and his well-worn Nike canvas sneakers. The sleeveless shirt showed off his arms, something he never really paid attention to before.

But now, standing in front of the mirror, he flexed slightly.

"Not bad…" he thought, tilting his head.

Of course, he didn’t have big muscles—he had always been on the leaner side. But he was toned, and for a brief moment, he felt confident.

That confidence, however, quickly faded when he remembered where he was going. Would a sleeveless shirt even be appropriate for the salon? He shrugged. Too late to change now.

Grabbing his bag, he left the apartment and made his way to the salon. When he arrived, he realized he was one of the first ones there.

The salon wasn’t even open yet. Hugo stood outside for a moment, inhaling the familiar scent of shampoo and styling products that lingered in the air, even from outside.

He had gotten used to this place. It no longer felt intimidating—it felt normal. But today felt a little different. Maybe it was because he had taken extra care of himself that morning. Maybe it was the way his sleeveless shirt made him feel more aware of his body.

Or maybe it was the memory of last night’s conversation with Bella still playing in his head. Either way, he had a feeling today was going to be interesting. Max lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. All night, his mind kept drifting back to Hugo.

It wasn’t the first time, Perhaps it was the way Hugo had looked at him after getting his bangs cut. Perhaps it was the way Hugo had blushed when the taxi driver mistook them for a couple. He was good at hiding his feelings, keeping things casual, and never getting too attached.

But Hugo? Hugo was making that impossible.

At first, he had just thought Hugo was interesting—a guy working at a beauty salon, trying to fit into a world that didn’t quite match who he used to be.

But now?

Now, Hugo wasn’t just fitting in. He was becoming part of it.

The way he took care of his hair. The way his characteristics softened over time. The way he let people push him just a little bit further, without fighting back too much. Hugo was changing—and Max was noticing.

And the more he noticed, the harder it became to ignore the feeling growing inside him. Max rolled over and grabbed his phone, debating whether to text Hugo. But what would he even say?

"Hey, I can’t stop thinking about you?"

Yeah. Not happening. Instead, he put his phone down and sighed.

"This is bad."

Because if he wasn’t careful…

He was going to fall for Hugo.

Hugo stood outside the salon, the early morning air still crisp as the sun started to rise. He glanced at his phone. No messages from Max. With a sigh, he leaned against the door and called him.

After a few rings, Max’s groggy voice answered.

"Ugh… why are you calling me this early?"

Hugo rolled his eyes. "Because you’re late. Where are you?"

There was a pause, followed by some shuffling noises.

"Shit—what time is it?" Max mumbled, suddenly more awake.

"It’s almost time to open. Come on, get here fast."

Hugo could hear Max groaning on the other end, probably still in bed.

"Alright, alright. I’ll be there soon. Don't get your bangs in a twist."

Hugo sighed but couldn’t help smiling a little.

"Just hurry up, lazy ass."

As he hung up, he shook his head. Max was always like this—late, unbothered, and teasing.  Fifteen minutes later, the sound of keys jingling broke the quiet morning. Hugo looked up as Lila arrived, dressed in her usual stylish yet effortless way. She flashed him a bright smile as she unlocked the door to the salon.

"Well, well, look who's early!" she teased, stepping inside.

Hugo chuckled. "Trying to make a good impression."

As she turned on the lights, Lila took a good look at him—really looked. Her sharp eyes scanned his outfit: the sleeveless T-shirt, the fitted jeans, the way his long hair was left free, looking silky and well-kept. Then, a slow, approving smile spread across her lips.

"Hugo, I have to say… you’re looking really good today."

Hugo felt a small rush of pride but also a bit of shyness.

"Oh—uh, thanks. Just… wearing what I had."

Lila raised an eyebrow, amused.

No, no, don’t be modest. You’re starting to develop a sense of style. Hugo wasn’t sure what to say. Compliments like this were still new to him. Before working at the salon, no one had ever commented on his appearance, and he never put much thought into it.

But now?

Hearing it from Lila—someone he admired—made him feel... More confident.

"Thanks, Lila," he said, giving her a small but genuine smile.

She winked at him playfully. "Keep it up. Who knows, maybe we’ll have to steal you from maintenance and put you on the salon floor soon."

Hugo laughed nervously. "Let’s not get ahead of ourselves."

Lila just grinned. Within half an hour, the salon was buzzing with life.

Stylists arrived one by one, filling the space with laughter, chatter, and the familiar hum of hairdryers warming up. As Hugo moved around, everyone took notice of him.

"Wow, Hugo! Looking sharp today!" one of the stylists, Mia, commented.

"Loving the new look," another added.

Even some of the regulars who had just walked in gave him a second glance.

Hugo wasn’t sure how to handle all the attention, so he just smiled and mumbled “Thanks” every time.

But then came Kate. She walked in, took one long look at him, and smirked.

"Okay, I’ll admit it—this sleeveless T-shirt looks really good on you," she said, crossing her arms. Hugo chuckled. "Thanks, I guess?"

But then, she suddenly reached for his arm, ran her fingers over his skin, and frowned.

"Buuut… this little hair on your arms? Kind of ugly."

Hugo blinked, caught off guard.

"Wait, what?" he asked, half-laughing, thinking she was joking.

But Kate just shrugged. "I mean, your style is improving, but the little arm hair ruins the smooth look. You should do something about it."

Hugo looked down at his arms. He had never thought about his body hair before. It wasn’t much—just normal, light hair—but now that Kate had pointed it out, he suddenly felt self-conscious.

"Uh… I don’t know. Isn’t that normal for guys?" he asked hesitantly.

Kate smirked. "Sure, but you’re not like most guys, are you?"

The way she said it made his stomach flip. Before he could respond, Lila called Kate over, and she walked away, leaving Hugo staring at his arms.  Hugo kept glancing at his arms throughout the morning. He wasn’t sure why Kate’s comment stuck with him so much.

It wasn’t like he had never been teased before. But something about the way she said it—like it was an obvious flaw—made him uneasy. As he finished fixing a loose cabinet handle near the reception desk, he saw Max finally arriving.

"There you are," Hugo said, rolling his eyes. "Took you long enough."

Max yawned, stretching as he walked past. "Fashionably late, as always."

Hugo shook his head but couldn’t help smirking. Then, as Max moved closer, his gaze lingered on Hugo’s arms.

"Huh."

Hugo frowned. "What?"

Max hesitated, then pointed. "Did Kate say something about your arm hair?"

Hugo’s stomach sank.

"Uh… yeah. How’d you know?"

Max shrugged. "She’s done that before. She’s weirdly obsessed with ‘fixing’ people."

Hugo sighed, rubbing his arms. "I never really thought about it before, but now it’s all I can see."

Max looked at him for a moment, then smirked. "Well, if it bothers you, I can help you wax it off later."

Hugo’s eyes widened.

"Wax? No way. That sounds painful as hell."

Max laughed. "Only the first time. Besides, you already let them mess with your hair—what’s the difference?"

Hugo hesitated.

He wanted to say no, absolutely not. But… was it really that big of a deal? The thought of smooth skin didn’t seem so bad.

And if everyone else at the salon had perfectly groomed arms, maybe he should too?

Before he could respond, Lila walked by and overheard their conversation.  Lila walking by, her eyes catching the tail end of their discussion.

"What’s this about waxing?" Lila asked, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk.

Both Max and Hugo turned to face her, surprised that she’d overheard. Hugo’s cheeks flushed slightly, feeling a bit awkward now that the conversation had taken a public turn.

"Uh, Kate was just suggesting that I should try waxing my arms," Hugo explained, scratching the back of his neck.

Lila’s eyes lit up with a knowing smile.

Hugo couldn’t help but laugh nervously, a little uncomfortable with the attention. "I’m not sure..."

Lila’s playful tone softened. "Don’t worry, Hugo. It’s just a little step. Trust me, you’re in good hands." She then glanced over at Max, her eyes narrowing a little. "Right, Max?"

Max, still a little taken aback by the entire situation, managed to nod. "Yeah... yeah, of course."

Lila laughed and patted Max’s shoulder. "Well, looks like Max is all for it. 

Hugo looked between them, suddenly feeling like everyone was on his case about this one decision. But Lila’s encouragement was hard to ignore. 

"Okay, okay," Hugo said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I’ll give it a try."

Lila grinned, giving him a quick thumbs-up. "You’ll thank me later."

Max watched Hugo as he gave in, feeling a strange mix of emotions. The idea of Hugo being even more lustrous felt oddly... exciting. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but the thought of Hugo's smooth skin—his arms, his features—suddenly felt more personal.

"Let’s get it done, then," Max said, his voice steady but betraying the unease he felt inside.

As they made their way to the waxing station, the atmosphere between them felt charged with an undercurrent of something unspoken. Hugo, still unsure but curious, followed Max's lead, while Max couldn’t help but steal glances at him

With a deep breath, Hugo sat down, and Max prepared the wax. 

The early morning in the salon brought a calmness that usually wasn’t there when the clients filled the space. The hum of the quiet salon was only interrupted by the soft chatter of staff preparing for the day.

Max had already set up the waxing station in the back. With no customers around, it felt like a good time to get started. Hugo, still a bit unsure but now fully committed, sat down on the chair. His nerves were evident, but he managed a small smile as Max prepared the wax.

Max carefully started to apply the warm wax on Hugo’s arm, smoothing it on gently. Hugo flinched slightly, but Max’s steady hands made the process more manageable. As Max worked, the others in the salon began to take notice of what was happening.

"You’re really doing it," Kate said, walking by and pausing to observe. 

As Max continued, Hugo couldn't help but feel the eyes on him, his arms exposed in a way he wasn’t used to. But he tried to relax, trusting Max to take care of him.

After a few moments, Hugo couldn’t help but notice how clean and smooth his arms were starting to look. "This isn’t so bad," he muttered, half to himself. "Though it’s still a little strange."

Max chuckled lightly, looking up at him. "You’re doing great. Almost done."

Hugo then asked, his voice hesitant, "Max... why don’t you wax your hands, too?"

Max froze for a brief moment, caught off guard by the question. He had always kept his arms natural

With a slight shrug, he responded, "Well... these are men's hands, Hugo. They don't need to be waxed. Not like yours."

Hugo frowned slightly, the words not making as much sense to him as they should. "But… why? Don’t you want them to look as smooth as mine?"

Max's stomach churned at the idea. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt strange to him that Hugo would even suggest it. There was something about being a man that, in his mind, meant he didn’t need to follow the same routines as women—or, as he had started to realize, even Hugo, who was no longer fitting neatly into the boxes he once thought defined men and women.

He cleared his throat. "Nah, it’s different for guys. We’re supposed to have hair, right? It’s just... the way it is."

Hugo, still confused by the answer, glanced at Max's arms. The roughness, the masculine nature of them felt so distinct compared to his own smooth skin. He had never really thought about the differences between the two before, but now he couldn’t help but see how this small detail had shaped the way they were treated, the way they looked.

"I don’t know," Hugo said quietly. "It just feels… odd to think of having hair on my arms when I could have them like this."

Max glanced at him, his mind drifting. "Yeah, but it’s about what feels right for you. Some people like it, others don’t."

Hugo nodded, still a little unsure but accepting Max's explanation. As Max finished the waxing process, Hugo couldn't help but run his fingers over his smooth arms again, feeling the difference. It was odd—yet, strangely empowering.

Max handed him a mirror to check out his newly waxed arms. Hugo examined them, running his fingers over the skin, now completely smooth and hairless. 

"Well, I guess it wasn’t so bad," Hugo admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks, Max."

Max, his heart still a little unsteady, nodded but kept his thoughts to himself.

"Anytime," he said quietly, though his mind was racing.

As they finished up, both of them stood in front of the mirror for a few moments, Hugo admiring his hairless arms, and Max contemplating something deeper than he cared to admit.

After Max finished waxing Hugo's arms, there was a moment of silence in the salon. 

"Hugo, your arms look amazing!" Lila exclaimed, her eyes bright with approval. She gently touched his arm, feeling the smoothness. 

Hugo smiled, a little bashful but proud of how he looked. He couldn’t help but run his hand over his arm again, the sensation still foreign but oddly satisfying. "Thanks," he said, glancing around at the others. 

As the morning progressed, the quiet salon transformed into a bustling hub of activity. Clients began pouring in one after another, filling every station with a sense of urgency. The familiar hum of hairdryers, the rhythmic snipping of scissors, and the lively chatter of stylists created a vibrant, almost chaotic atmosphere.

Hugo, who had finished his maintenance tasks for the day, found himself standing by the reception desk, unsure of what to do. He watched as the stylists moved swiftly, tending to their clients with expert precision.

Lila, noticing him idling near the front, called out to him. "Hugo! We need an extra set of hands. Come help!"

Hugo blinked. "Me? What do you need me to do?"

She gestured toward one of the styling chairs where a client was getting her hair cut. "Grab a blow-dryer and start helping out. Just follow what the stylists tell you."

Hugo hesitated for a moment. He wasn’t a stylist—he was just the maintenance guy. But Lila’s tone was firm, and there was no room for argument.

"Alright, I’ll do my best," he said, stepping forward.

Kate grinned as she passed him a hairdryer. "You’ll be fine, Hugo. Just start with this one—blow-dry her hair while I work on layering."

Hugo nodded, his fingers gripping the handle of the dryer a little too tightly. He had never done anything like this before, but as he turned it on and let the warm air flow through the woman’s freshly washed strands, he found a rhythm. He carefully followed Kate’s instructions, moving the dryer in small, controlled motions, watching as the strands smoothed and took shape under the heat.

"Good," Kate said approvingly. "See? You’re a natural."

Encouraged by her words, Hugo felt a bit more confident. The salon’s energy was different today—more intense, yet strangely exciting. He helped a few more times, passing tools to the stylists, holding up mirrors for clients to check their new cuts, and even sweeping stray hair off the floor between appointments.

At one point, Lila walked by and smiled at him. 

Hugo found himself moving from station to station, assisting wherever needed. He had just finished blow-drying a client’s hair for Kate when he noticed Max struggling to keep up with his growing list of appointments.

Max, usually composed, looked a little overwhelmed as he worked on a client’s short, layered cut. His station was cluttered with combs, scissors, clips, and styling products, making it clear that an extra pair of hands would be helpful.

Hugo stepped forward. "Hey, Max. Need a hand?"

Max looked up, slightly surprised but quickly nodding. "Yeah, actually. Can you pass me the smoothing serum? It’s in that bottle right there."

Hugo grabbed the bottle and handed it over, watching as Max skillfully applied it to the client’s hair. Intrigued, Hugo observed Max’s technique—how his fingers moved carefully through the strands, ensuring even distribution of the product.

"You’re really good at this," Hugo commented.

Max smirked. "Years of practice. But hey, you’re not bad yourself. You handled that blow-drying like a pro earlier."

Hugo chuckled. "Thanks. I had no idea I’d be doing stuff like this today."

Max motioned toward another brush. "Hand me that round brush. And while you're at it, can you hold this section up while I trim?"

Hugo did as instructed, his movements becoming more natural as he worked alongside Max. There was something strangely satisfying about helping out—it felt good to be part of the flow of the salon, to contribute beyond just maintenance work.

As the day went on, Max found himself stealing glances at Hugo whenever he could. 

But as Hugo helped him throughout the day—handing him tools, holding up sections of hair, even laughing with him between clients—Max felt something stir inside him that he hadn’t fully acknowledged before.

"Damn," Max thought to himself. "I think I’m falling for him."

It was an odd realization, one that sent a jolt of both excitement and confusion through him. He had never openly expressed his feelings for anyone before, let alone someone like Hugo. And yet, there he was, captivated by the way Hugo smiled, the way he moved, the way he was slowly but surely becoming a part of this world.

After their last client, as things began to slow down in the salon, Max finally spoke. "Hey, Hugo."

Hugo turned, wiping his hands on a towel. "Yeah?"

Max hesitated for a second before offering a small smile. "You did really good today. I mean it. It’s kinda cool seeing you get into this."

Hugo chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks, man. I never thought I’d be doing anything like this, but… I guess it’s not so bad."

Max swallowed hard. His heart was pounding slightly, but he forced himself to keep it cool.

As the salon started winding down for the evening, the last of the clients left, and the other stylists packed up their tools to head home. The usual routine of closing up began—sweeping up hair, wiping down the stations, and making sure everything was ready for the next day.

Most of the staff had already left, but Max lingered. He wasn’t in a hurry to leave, and more importantly, neither was Hugo.

"You staying late too?" Max asked casually as he grabbed a broom.

Hugo nodded. "Yeah. Just want to make sure everything's cleaned up. Feels weird leaving things messy."

Max smirked. "You’re starting to sound like a real salon pro."

Hugo laughed, tossing a used towel into the laundry bin. "Don’t get used to it."

As they worked together, a comfortable silence settled between them. Max found himself sneaking glances at Hugo again—how effortlessly he moved around now, how he had started carrying himself with more ease in the salon. It was different from the rough, reserved guy who had first walked in weeks ago.

After a while, Hugo stretched his arms over his head. "Alright, I think that’s it. Ready to head out?"

Max hesitated for just a second before replying, "Yeah. Let’s go together."

They turned off the lights, locked up the salon, and stepped out into the cool evening air. The streets were quieter now, the rush of the day replaced by the hum of distant traffic.

As they walked side by side, Max felt an unfamiliar warmth in his chest. It wasn’t just about staying late to help. It wasn’t just about walking home together.

It was about being close to Hugo. And with every passing day, that feeling only grew stronger.