Work Text:
Velvet looked in the mirror. The eyes which looked back were the same green-grey as always, the nose the same button-nose, the lips the same young pout.
It was the hair. The hair, which had once adorned Velvet’s shoulders, framed the delicate face, slimmed the neck, was now cut short. The hair which allowed Velvet to pass as a boy in Aintree, where no one knew.
But Velvet was home now, and here people knew. People here would always know Velvet was a girl, no matter how short the hair.
Velvet picked up the scissors, and cut his hair shorter.