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For Sal and Larry, their summer break means spending time with each other 24/7. They’re practically inseparable, always at each other’s houses. They spend countless nights with each other until one of their parents demand that they come home for at least one night. They stay up all night, then sleep most of the day. Well, Larry sleeps most of the day. Sal has always been an early riser no matter how much sleep he gets. Summer means movie marathons, Sal’s first concert, Larry’s fourth, telling each other late night horror stories, and forgetting that school is something that they’ll have to deal with in the coming months.
It’s July and Sal hates the summer. The heat makes him sweat which isn’t pleasant to deal with under his prosthetic. During the summer, he hates wearing his prosthetic. It sticks to his face and makes his old wounds gross, which means Sal has to take extra good care of them. He’s learned to loosen the fastens on the back so that it still stays on his face securely, but gives him breathing room.
So that’s what he does. He wears his mask as loosely as he can without it showing any features of his face, but gives enough room for Sal to keep the sweat off of his face.
He’s comfortable with his small group of friends and he loves them. He wouldn’t trade them for anything. But he’s still not comfortable enough to show them his face. His face isn’t something he’s even comfortable looking at. Save for doctor’s that he’s had to see over the years, his dad and Gizmo are the only ones who have seen him without his prosthetic. And, for the time being, Sal plans to keep it like that.
He walks down to the basement with his sleeping bag, which Larry swears he doesn’t need, but Sal brings it anyways. Larry has a tendency to kick him out of the bed when he sleeps, so Sal always brings a back up plan. Sal knocks on the door then adjusts his mask, listening to the sounds of the floor above.
Lisa opens the door with a smile and reaches down, ruffling his head of blue hair.
“Hey, Sally,” she says. “Just in time, Larry just called in a pizza.”
“Sick.” Sal smiles, walking inside.
“Pepperoni and black olives, just how you like it.”
“You guys know you can order whatever pizza you like too, right?”
“Of course.” Lisa says. “I got myself a small meat lovers, but I think Larry is just gonna share with you. It’s a large anyways.”
“That's fine by me.” He says.
“Lar-Bear is in his room, I think he’s painting but I’m not positive. But you make yourself comfortable, honey. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Yes ma’am.” Sal answers cheerfully.
He walks back to Larry’s room, knocks twice, then opens the door.
“Hey.”
“Hey, whatcha paintin’?”
“Oh, just some shit.”
“Just some shit?” Sal tosses his sleeping bag on the nearest bean bag chair. “Can I see?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He walks over to Larry’s canvas and rolls up onto his toes. He nods his head in approval, smiling to himself.
“It looks really cool, Larry.”
“Thanks, Ash has been giving me a couple of lessons here and there.”
“That’s nice of her.”
“Yeah, you should see if she wants to give you some lessons sometime.”
“Shut up.” Sal blushes.
“Just suggesting it.”
“Thanks, I appreciate the suggestion.”
“So, what’ve you been up to?”
“Nothing much,” Sal says as he sits on the bed. “Me and my dad watched a baseball game, then he helped me give Gizmo a bath.”
“Gizmo needs baths?”
“Well, yeah, he gets dirty.”
“Weird.” Larry shrugs.
“He’s trying to look for a doctor in this area that I could go to if I needed help with… Y’know.”
“Your face?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it still getting really sweaty and shit?”
“No, not as badly. I kind of found a loophole.”
“Cool, cool.” Larry nods, then turns to look at Sal. “You know you can always take it off around me, right? I don’t mind.”
Sal stares at the ceiling for a long time, unresponsive.
“Your mom told me you ordered a pizza.”
Larry sighs and rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, it should be here in like 20 minutes.”
“You know, you don’t have to order my favorite pizza every time I come over.”
“Yeah, I know. But I like it too.”
“Okay.” Sal smiles.
Larry stands and starts to clean up his paint and his brushes. He opens the door to take them to the bathroom and Sal continues to lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He closes his eyes until Larry comes back in, and he sits up.
“So,” Larry says. “What do you want to do until the pizza gets here?”
“I dunno.” Sal shrugs.
“Gee, your so much help.” Larry rolls his eyes.
“I know.” He smiles. “We could go hang out in the treehouse.”
“Sure, I don’t see why not.”
Sal lifts himself up and they both walk out the back door. Sal follows behind Larry, looking around as the sun starts to set.
“How do you wear a sweatshirt and jeans in the summer?” Larry asks.
Sal shrugs. “It’s just what I’m most comfortable with.”
“Doesn’t it get hot?”
“I mean, yeah. But it’s just what I like to wear.”
“Fair enough.”
They climb up into the tree house, Larry behind Sal. Larry has always been worried that Sal might fall on his way up, so he likes to climb up after him in case he ever did slip. Larry walks over to his CD player and presses play, sitting on the ground.
Sal mindlessly tidies up here and there, putting a couple of things on shelves so that it looks nicer. He leans against one of the windows and looks out at the apartment complex. He leans his head on his hand, enjoying this moment of peacefulness.
“Do you think your dad is going to be able to find a good doctor around here?” Larry asks.
“That’s a loaded question.”
“What do you mean?” Sal shrugs his shoulders and continues to stare out at the apartments.
“Well, the doctor has to be good at their job, obviously. And they have to have had some sort of experience like this before. I’m sure if they have, I’m going to be the worst they’ve ever seen.”
“Don’t say that.” Larry scolds.
“And it’s just…” Sal shrugs his shoulders again and sighs. “Even for a medical professional, it’s hard for me to just take off my prosthetic.”
“A doctor wouldn’t bully you about it, Sal. It’ll be okay.”
“Yeah, I know but that’s not really it.” He says. “My dad is the only person who can look at me without my prosthetic on and not wince or look sorry for me or some other bullshit.”
“Is that what doctor’s back in Jersey did?”
“They never meant to,” Sal explains patiently. “But I could always see it. They’d always just give me this awful look or they’d flinch or they’d have to look away for a second. I know that having a doctor here in case I needed on is a good idea but…”
“You’re just not comfortable.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s it.”
“That sounds like what it is.”
“I just don’t want people to feel sorry for me.” He says. “Just because I’ve got a fucked up face, doesn’t mean I need sympathy. I mean, I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?”
“Yeah, I get it, dude.” Larry says. “I mean, I don’t but I get where you’re coming from.”
“Thanks.” Sal says.
Sal sits down and looks over at him. They both stare at each other for a moment before Larry boldly asks,
“Can I ask how bad it is? I don’t want you to take off your mask or anything, I’m just curious.”
“On a scale of one to ten, it’s probably at a 24.”
“C’mon, Sal, it can’t be that bad.”
“It’s hideous, Larry.” They’re quiet again for a second. “Do you wanna play 20 Questions or something?”
“Sure, do you wanna go first?”
“Sure.”
They sit in the treehouse playing 20 Questions and exchanging stories until Lisa calls them in for dinner. Larry goes down the ladder first and keeps a watchful eye on Sal as he climbs down. They race each other to the door, Sal gets there before Larry does, and the make their way into the kitchen.
Lisa already has paper plates set out for the both of them and the pizza box is open. Larry starts off with three pieces, Sal starts off with one. They sit in the living room with Lisa, listening to her talk about work and throwing in their own things to talk about. After about thirty minutes, Lisa finally stands and stretches.
“Well, I think I’m gonna go lay down, boys.” She says. “It’s been a long day and I’ve got another one ahead of me tomorrow.”
“Yes ma’am.” They both say in unison.
She pushes some hair from Larry’s face and kisses his forehead, then gives Sal a small kiss on his head. She throws away her plate in the kitchen and puts her extra pizza in the fridge.
“Be sure to clean up after yourselves.”
“We will.” Larry says.
“Goodnight, you two.”
“Goodnight.” They both answer.
Sal and Larry both take a piece of pizza for the road, putting the rest in the fridge, then head back to Larry’s room.
“Does it hurt to sleep with it on?” Larry asks through a mouthful of pizza.
Sal finishes chewing before he answers.
“What, my prosthetic?” Larry nods. “I’ve done it so often that it doesn’t really bother me.”
“Do you sleep with it on at home?”
“No. Not unless I wake up from a really bad dream or something.”
“That sucks that you have nightmares.”
“Everyone gets them, I’m no different.” Sal shrugs.
“I know,” Larry answers, handing his crust over to Sal. “But I also know that it messes with you.”
“I’ll make it, don’t worry.”
Sal looks down at the pizza crust that’s been put on his plate, then looks up at Larry. He smiles under his mask and shakes his head.
“Why don’t you like the crusts?” Sal asks. “It’s the best part.”
“I just don’t.” He shrugs. “I don’t really know why.”
“Fair enough.” Sal nods.
Once they both finish, Larry takes their plates to the kitchen, then comes back into the room. He sits down on the bed and Sal keeps his place on the floor.
“What now?” Sal asks.
“Wanna listen to some music?”
“As long as you don’t wake up your mom, sure.”
“Don’t worry, once she’s out, she’s out.” He says, walking over to his CD player.
Sal listens as he skips a couple of tracks, then Larry comes and sits across from him.
“That was still the best concert I’ve ever been to,” Larry says.
“It was a lot of fun,” Sal smiles behind his mask. “I’m really glad I got to go.”
“Yeah, me too.”
They sit and talk, reminiscing about the Sanity’s Fall concert they went to just a couple of weeks ago. Larry tells stories about previous concerts and Sal listens to every word intently, smiling and laughing along with him. Truthfully, Sal never listened to a lot of music until he met Larry. He and his dad would listen to old classic rock CDs when they were in the car or Sal would turn on the radio in his room, but that was about as far as his taste in music went. Larry has introduced him to a whole new world of genres and bands. Sal was, overall, extremely thankful for Larry.
Track six on this CD was their favorite Sanity’s Fall song of all time: Singular. When it was performed at the concert, Sal and Larry just about lost both of their minds. It was a bonding song for Larry and Sal. It’s what really got Sal into music and it was just, overall, a good song. Good songs are hard to find is what Larry likes to tell Sal. Sal doesn’t entirely believe that’s true, but he always nods his head and agrees with Larry when he says it. Sal is thankful that most of the time Larry can’t see him smiling behind his prosthetic.
After listening to the first three tracks, Larry skips to track six. Sal smiles and rolls his eyes, Larry just sticks his tongue out at him in response.
“Are we even really hanging out if we don’t listen to this?” Larry asks, sitting across from Sal.
“You’ve got a point.”
“I know I do.”
Larry stares at Sal with a serious look on his face. Sal feels a twinge of anxiety bubble in his chest, but it melts away as Larry holds up his pointer finger and pinkie in that rock out gesture. Sal smiles and even laughs a little before doing the gesture back at him. Larry smiles and starts to bang his head back and forth to the music violently. Both of them have long hair, but Sal doesn’t know how Larry does it with all of that hair. That’s more hair than Sal can accommodate for. He can only imagine how hot it gets in the summer…
After watching him for a second, Sal can’t help but mirror the action. His pigtails hit either side of his face as he does, giving him something else to hide behind. It’s much more tame than Larry’s hurricane of hair. But, of course, as the song progresses both of them start to head bang harder and harder and harder. They usually don’t stop until the song is over.
Unless, of course, Sal’s mask flies off of his face.
It happens so quickly that Sal doesn’t even notice until Larry lets out a loud:
“Oh, fuck!”
Sal stops and when he does, he doesn't even notice the prosthetic on the ground next to Larry. He’s more concerned about the bloody nose. He crawls over to him on his knees quickly then stops in front of him.
“Holy shit!” Sal exclaims. “I.. I’m so sorry, Larry, oh my god. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, man, I’m fine.” He says, holding a hand to his nose, then pulling it away to look at it. “No biggie, shit happens.”
“Here, uh… Um…” Sal stands up. “Let me go get you a paper towel or something.”
“Nah, I’ve got tissues in here somewhere.” Larry waves his free hand nonchalantly at him, keeping the other one over his nose as he starts to look for them. “Seriously, it’s no biggie. Just a bloody nose. Are you okay?” He asks. “You didn’t get smacked or anything, right?”
Larry walks over to his bedside table then rustles around in it before pulling out a small packet of tissues. Sal doesn’t answer, just nervously plays with his hands as he watches Larry. He feels naked vulnerable just standing there like that.
“See, what’d I tell you?” Larry holds it up, then turns to look at Sal. “Holy shit…”
It takes Sal a second to realize what ‘holy shit’ means. It hits him like a bus and he grabs a hold of his pigtails, pulling them both in front of his face. Well, he pulls one of them in front of his face and just pulls locks of hair. At some point during the headbanging, Sal’s other pigtail holder must’ve fallen out.
That’s why he must’ve felt so naked. How did he not notice?
“Don’t look!” He says quickly, looking down at his feet. “Don’t look, don’t look!”
“Sal, bud, it’s not a big deal.” Larry watches him drop to his knees and crawl along the floor in a desperate attempt to keep his face hidden, feeling along the floor for his mask. “Come here, let me make sure you didn’t get hurt or anything.”
Larry walks over to his CD player and turns it off. As he leans down to pick up the prosthetic on the floor, he can hear Sal quietly sniffling. Larry walks over to him and Sal all but curls in on himself, pulling his hair closer to his face.
“Where’s your other ponytail holder?” He asks calmly.
“It…” Sal has to stop, it feels like he can’t breathe. “It doesn’t matter right now I just…” He pauses again to catch his breath. “I need my prosthetic.”
Larry looks down at the mask in his hand and scans the room for the royal blue holder Sal always wears in his hair. He finds it by the beanbag and picks it up, then kneels down in front of Sal. He hands him the ponytail holder, but Sal just puts it on his wrist. He stops his frantic search to pull his hair in front of his face again.
“Larry, please don’t look.” He says shakily, voice thick with tears.
“Are you crying?”
“I just…” Sal tries to take a deep breath, tries to calm himself down like his dad has taught him a million times before. “Please, I need my mask.”
“I’ve got your mask.” Larry says with a shrug. “Dude, you know you don’t have to worry about it around me, okay?”
“Can I please have my mask back?” Sal asks, reaching out a hand.
“Sal.” He says firmly. “Dude, you’re my best friend. And you’re still going to be my best friend without your mask on. Okay? You don’t have to worry about it, this is a judgement free zone. You’re not gonna get rid of me just because your mask slipped off.”
Sal’s hand starts to tremble and Larry reaches out to gently hold it. He lets out a quiet whimper and Larry feels bad. He just wants Sal to know that he’s in a safe place. Now’s the perfect time, he guesses.
“Here, let me put it back on for you.” He offers.
“No, it’s fine, I’ve got it.” Sal answers quietly.
“Sal, have you seen how bad your hands are shaking?” Sal doesn’t answer, he just pulls his hand back to his hair. “Let me put it back on. You’re safe here, you know that.”
Sal sits very still for a long time and Larry is suddenly worried that he might have pissed the younger teen off. Eventually Sal looks up, still holding his hair in front of his face. He slowly inches closer to Larry and sits himself in front of him, blinking at him through his thick blue locks.
“You know I can’t put it on with your hair in your face like that, c’mon man.”
Sal sighs shakily, then looks down. He squeezes his eyes shut as he pulls his hair into a second pigtail, getting his hair, his barrier, out of the way. He keeps his eyes shut for a long time, swallowing hard, before he finally looks up at Larry. He expects to hear a gasp or something muttered under Larry’s breath, but it doesn’t happen.
Larry stares at him, trying not to take advantage of Sal’s vulnerable position, but he’s never seen anything like it. It isn’t gross like Sal pretends it is. It’s obviously damaged, but Larry could care less.
He has thick scars running all across his face, some of them still seemingly deep from the damage. His nose is practically just two slits, almost like a skeleton’s nose. On the left side of his face, his cheek is gone, in its place are his bare teeth poking through the hole in the flesh. The bone structure around his chin and the top of his head is obviously bent and broken beyond repair. It’s not a pretty sight.
But Larry really doesn’t mind.
Sal opens his eyes when Larry doesn’t put the mask on. He reaches up and wipes his eyes, trying to ignore the fact that Larry is just staring at him. It isn’t a disgusted stare or a pity stare. It’s just a stare. Like he’s being analyzed.
“Larry--” He starts quietly.
“Y’know, I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of.” He says, looking down at the prosthetic in his hands. It’s heavier than he expected it to be.
“I know, but it’s--”
“It’s pretty metal if you ask me.” Larry interrupts.
Sal wipes some more tears from his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, but he laughs.
“It’s really not.”
“The hell, it’s not!” Larry answers. “Sal, that is the coolest shit I’ve ever seen!”
“No, it’s not. It’s gross.” Sal argues.
“Sal, shut the fuck up.” Larry says seriously. He reaches out and puts his hand on Sal’s shoulder. “Listen, I know that this is the result of some serious trauma and I know it hasn’t brought good things for you. But it makes you really unique, Sal. I get why you don’t like people looking, but I don't think you should be ashamed of it. I definitely don’t want you to be ashamed of it around me.”
Sal stares at Larry for a long time, sniffing quietly. He rubs one of his eyes,really letting the words sink in. Then he starts crying harder. Larry’s eyes widen some and he shifts to bring Sal in for a hug.
“Dude, I’m--”
“Don’t apologize.” Sal says through tears. “It just that…” He shrugs his shoulders then laughs a little. “I never thought I’d hear anyone other than my dad say that.”
Larry stares at him for a second then laughs with him, shrugging his shoulders.
“Yeah, well, what can I say?” He smiles. “I wanna be here for you, dude.”
“I really appreciate that, Larry, thanks.”
“You don’t have to thank me, little dude.”
They both sit there for second. Sal feels a little better, but this definitely isn’t something he’s very comfortable with. It feels weird… Not having his mask on like this.
“Can I please have my prosthetic now?” Sal asks.
“Shit, yeah, sorry.” Larry says, leaning over and putting it on, fastening it behind his head. “I forgot.”
“It’s fine.” Sal says.
“But, seriously, you’re not hurt or anything?”
“No, I’m okay.”
“You’re not just saying that so you can keep your prosthetic on?”
“I’m not just saying that.”
“Promise?”
“Dude, I promise.” Sal smiles.
“Okay…” Larry says. “But I’m watchin’ you.”
“Sure. How’s your nose?”
“My what?” Larry reaches up and feels the dried blood on his nose, then laughs. “Oh yeah, I forgot. I’m pretty sure I’m fine now.”
“I’ll go get you a wet rag or something.”
Sal stands up and leaves the room, coming back in a second later. He hands Larry the rag, then leans against the dresser. He takes down his pigtails, ruffles his hair a little, then pulls them back up again.
“Y’know, you look good with your hair down.”
“Thanks.” He says. “Pigtails keep it out of my mask, though.
“That’s fair.”
Sal sits down across from him again, watching him wipe the dried blood from his nose. Once he finishes, he tosses the rag into the dirty laundry, then looks over at Sal.
“Well, what do you wanna do now?”
“I don’t really care.” Sal shrugs. “As long as we’re not headbanging, I think I’ll be fine with whatever for the rest of the night.”
“Yeah, yeah, fine.” Larry waves his hand. “I’ll find a slasher film to put on or something.”
“Sounds good to me.”