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“I miss you.”
The words crackle through the phone so faintly, so uncertainly, that Sal feels suddenly the weight of the distance between them. They aren’t just separated by walls or small-town streets anymore. There’s entire states worth of land between Travis and himself, so many miles that he couldn’t drive them in a day, let alone walk.
He can’t hide the way his voice breaks when he whispers back, “I miss you too.”
It’s been strange, being without Travis. It makes sense, of course, that it would feel a little weird getting used to daily life without him in it, given how much time they’d been spending together this past year, but that it is logical doesn’t make it any easier to bear.
“Do you think-” Travis sighs through the phone, his mouth close enough to the receiver to make Sal flinch. He sounds as miserable as Sal feels. “God, this is so stupid. Fucking phone calls. I just want to see you. See my angel.”
“I know what you mean.” He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. He can feel his father’s presence in the other room - can feel him trying not to hear the conversation, pretending he’s untouched by the pain in his son’s voice. It’s awkward. Everything about this is so uncomfortable. Needlessly painful.
Rustling and bustling comes through Travis’ end and Sal imagines him jumping up to sit on his kitchen counter, the way he always did at Addison - whether in his room, Chug’s, Todd’s, or Larry’s. He wonders what Travis’ new kitchen looks like. He wishes he could see it.
“I want to find a way to see you. Plan a summer together or something,” Travis murmurs.
Sal laughs humorlessly. “That’s a lot of money, Travis…”
“I’ll find a way. I can make enough.”
“Trav…” But he can’t ignore the way it warms him. Travis loves him so much. “You’re a goof.”
“Your goof.”
“My goof.”
Another sigh, this time far enough that Sal doesn’t have to wince. “I know it would be difficult, but… I don’t know. Now that I’m out of Nockfell, anything feels possible, you know?”
That makes Sal swallows hard. “I don’t want to weigh you down-”
“Sally, you don’t weigh me down. You keep me connected to the earth. You’re a fucking lifeline, okay? Don’t pull that shit with me, alright?”
That shocks a laugh out of Sal - and a blushing smile. “Okay. I love you… How is stuff with your mom going?”
“I love you too,” he says snippily. “You didn’t give me enough time to say it back, you jerk. Stuff with Mom is really cool though. I think I like it here so far.”
“Travis, I’m so glad!” And he is. God, he is.
“I want to show you everything here already. Maybe I can save up for a plane ticket?”
“I’m not sure they’d let me on a plane in my mask.”
“What! It’s a prosthetic!”
“Heh, tell that to the people in the airport…”
“I will. And then I’ll tell them to step the fuck off my man if they know what’s good for them.” He huffs. “Freakin’ fascists.”
A grin splitting his face, Sal laughs. He’ll definitely be thinking of that giggle when he meets his father’s eyes later. “You’re sounding more like Larry every day.”
“Shit. Tell Lare-Bear I miss him, huh?”
“I will,” Sal promises. “He misses you too. We all do. So much.”
Travis groans miserably. “Shit, this sucks. You all have to move here too.”
“We would, I think. At least I would.”
“I love you, Sally.”
“I love you too, Trav.”
There’s some talking over the other end suddenly, far enough from the phone to leave it a distance rumble. Sal listens, trying to hear, but he can’t make out any of the sounds - just Travis’ voice, chatting quietly with a more unfamiliar one.
“Shit,” groans Travis, voice clear and readable again. “Okay, I gotta go. Mom and I are hitting up the store. I’ll call you later?”
“It’s already 11 PM here…”
“Shit,” he says again. Then he sighs. “Okay, tomorrow then. I love you, my Sally.”
“I love you too, Travis. Be careful.”
“I will. Bye bye.”
“Bye…”
And then he hangs up, leaving Sal alone. It feels so much lonelier in his apartment without Travis somehow. Even places Sal goes where Travis hasn’t been feel lonelier for his absence. Sal feels him like a phantom limb, pulling him this way and that even from multiple states away. It hurts.
God, it hurts.
Footsteps sound behind him before Henry’s familiar hand falls on his shoulder. It’s not as comforting as Sal wishes it was. “You okay, bud?”
“Yeah,” Sal lies. He isn’t sure how convincing it is - but it doesn’t really matter in the end. Dad always believes what he has to. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.”
He hooks the handset back onto the wall and breathes deeply around the dark water in his lungs. A phantom ache hangs heavy on his chest, like a vice around his ribs, squeezing him too tightly. He’ll hear Travis’ voice again tomorrow, but for now, he’s going to shove his face into his cat’s fat, warm belly and pretend that Travis is laying next to him. It’s all he can do.