Work Text:
You always liked hanging out with Sal at his apartment. Sometimes you would be practically bouncing off the walls blasting music with Larry, headbanging until the three of you collapsed from dizziness. Right now, the lights were out. It was late at night, and Sal had invited you over, as per usual, to play video games.
In the living room, the television was the only source of light, the blue screen tinting the surrounding darkness a cool shade of indigo. The way the light made a perfect beam on the wood floor, then refracted out in clear, thin rays made it seem like the atmosphere of Sal’s apartment had tangible purple layers that felt soft on your fingers.
Standing out from it all was Sal, sitting cross-legged in front of the television, back facing you. You would’ve recognized him anyway -- the bright blue hair is really hard to miss. Climbing over the couch, you found a spot next to him.
“You got the snacks?” He asked, as more of a greeting. You held up a party-sized bowl of popcorn, grinning, “Hell yeah, I do.”
With that, Sal launched himself up from the couch, and stopped in front of the TV stand, his side that intersected with the glowing screen casting monstrous shadows on the back wall.
“I just got a copy of Nun Massacre, you wanna play?” He asked, finally turning to you. “Sure,” you replied, reaching for the PlayStation controller on the coffee table. Sal walked back to sit next to you on the couch, and you could tell by his crinkled eyes under the holes in his prosthetic that he was smiling.
The starting menu flashed on the screen after a few seconds, displaying the creepy dripping text font and desaturated imagery of typical horror fare. You continued watching as Sal started the game and got more acquainted with the controls. The opening level was set in a creepy forest, on a rocky uphill slope. Creepy and foreboding, sure, but it was nothing compared to the things you and Sal had both experienced on your own.
It was relaxing, in a strange way. The only sounds were the clicking of the controller buttons and the ambiance of the low-quality sound effects. Eventually, your head drifted down to Sal’s shoulder, and rested there. You turned and buried your face into his sweater at the first major jumpscare, mostly just looking for an excuse to get closer. Inching forward, you circled your arms loosely around his waist. You lifted your cheek to look up at the boy. After all, he was truly something to behold. Electric blue hair lit up with the light of the television screen. Deep eyes peeking out from dark eye holes of his mask. Your eyes traveled over the dents and patches discoloured from age. You could barely hear the game anymore, not while your fingertips gently flitted over the eye holes of his mask, the cheekbone and jaw.
Sal made brief eye-contact and you replied with a wide grin. He seemed to shrug this off and go back to playing. That’s when you leaned up and planted a sudden kiss on his white cheek. Your head landed back on his shoulder before he could react, which was the subtle hitch in his breath and the stilling of his fingers on the controller. Your eyes fell shut with a contented sigh just as a high-pitched scream emanated from the TV’s speakers. Sal had lost.