Colors»L.R.H AU

Seven

I apologize for any wrong information I have about US military training.

Luke's POV

There was three phases to the boot camp: Phase Red, Phase White, and Phase Blue.

Red start simple: Your uniforms are fitted, paperwork completed, and basic mental and physical tests are given out. I knew you had cut your hair from the beginning, and I told myself over and over shaving my head completely would not look as bad as I thought it would.

I was wrong.

The first thing that the recruits did after was wait in line to get your hair cut, and by that I mean your head was shaved. When the barber was focused on something else, I ran my fingers through my hair one last time. Someone chuckled beside me.

"Don't worry, your lovely blonde locks will grow back," A middle-aged man, probably in his early thirties, says to me with a smirk. He was sitting in a chair, his barber had finished with him.

"I mentally prepared myself over and over again, and I told myself shaving my head would be the least of my concerns by the end of the first week," I say while facing him, then my barber lectures me to sit right so he can cut my hair.

"Damn straight, son," The man stands up and says, "Names Daren, by the way. Find me later, will ya?"

"Yeah, sure," I respond, biting my where my lip ring should be as the first stroke of the razor on my head begins.

***

Shortly after that, I gaze at myself in the mirror in front of me.

I look so bad.

"Next!" My barber calls once I'm out of the seat. A drill sergeant points me to the exit and another one points me down the uniform hall, where we're measured and given our uniforms.

The first station is the hats, then our shoulders, chest, and height are measured.

A woman was working at the measuring station. She was a drill sergeant as well. She looked tough, like if you messed with her, she'd have you on the floor groaning in pain in seconds. She was also small, barely reaching five feet at the most. Her tag reads "Reeds".

"Stand there," Reeds points to a measuring stick on the wall. I obediently stand up straight as she takes a stepping ladder to read my measurements. I smile internally at her shortness.

"Six foot three," She says aloud, then writing in things on a clipboard.

Reeds takes out a measuring tape out of her jacket pocket, then holds out across my shoulders.

"You got some big shoulders," She smiles lightly, "That'll be useful on the field, soldier — Well, if you're interested in combat."

Soldier. She called me soldier.

I nod. I wanted to be in combat, just like my dad.

"Most men I see walking through here have baby shoulders. Ha!"

"Thank you," I awkwardly say, confused whether or not to call her Reeds.

She puts the measuring tape around my hips, writes down some more measurements, then wraps it around my thighs.

"I'll be right back with your uniform, soldier."

There she goes again. That word make me weak. My whole entire life is starting right now.

Reeds comes back after a minute or so, a uniform neatly folded in her hands. She asks me my shoe size and says she'll be back, then tells me to try on the uniform. While Reeds is away, I slip off my pants and pull on my uniform ones. They're oddly comforting. I put on the shirt and start buttoning it up when she returns.