Chapter Text
“ I know we don’t really know each other and you probably don’t like ”
No. That wasn’t it. Travis shook his head, scribbling out the words “don’t like”. The tiled bathroom wall left wobbly lines where his pencil scratched out his words, but he barely noticed.
“ and you probably don’t like hate ”
Not quite.
“and you probably don’t like hate have your opinions of me.”
Yeah, that was better. It was vague enough that he’d be able to fill things in for himself.
“ I thought maybe if I told you ”
Travis’s hand gripped his pencil tightly—too tightly to be comfortable, though he barely noticed. Fuck, Travis, just spit it out. Just spit it out, say it. It’s not like he could hate you any more than he must now .
“ if I told you how I feel, things could be different. The truth is, I ”
No. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t write something so fucking stupid and then give it to him . This would never work. His dad would kill him if he found out, or he’d get sent to the counsellor again, or…or even worse, he could find it. Travis would rather jump off the roof than have him find it. It wouldn’t be nearly as painful.
“ I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m crazy about you. I think you’re amazing! ”
Jesus, where was this coming from? Travis had never thought he could get so stupid, so soft, so…in love? No, that couldn’t be it. He’d rather be dead than in love. It felt as if some demon had taken over his body, but that demon was full of happiness and butterflies and rainbows and was hell-bent on squeezing every last drop of feelings out of his head. Though that could be true, considering how much Travis had overheard him talking about ghosts and demons and all sorts of supernatural shit that his dad would hate. He would hate everything about this—the hypothetical demon inside his son, the potentially real demons around his classmate, and how much of a fucking faggot Travis sounded like. He should just give up, backtrack as much as he could. Travis couldn’t have anyone thinking he wanted to be a faggot.
“ But I know these feelings I have are wrong. It’s not the way I ”
“ It’s not the way I a boy should feel. Shame swallows me whole, just writing these words. ”
Yeah, that was better. Travis nodded, setting his paper on the edge of the sink. Was that good enough? He hoped so.
“ My father would kill me but I can’t live in his shadow forever. I just want to be free from
everything he says I hate it so much I hate how he feels I hate what he tells me and i hate that i can’t hate you no matter how badly i want to i just wish this could be easier to say i wish it was so much easier i wish i couldjusttellyoueverythingtellyouhowifeelaboutyouandhowfuckingsorryiamfor ”
Travis felt his hands shake as he leaned over his paper. It barely felt like he was saying this, it was more like he was watching himself write and couldn’t do anything about it. This was even worse than what he’d said before. It would definitely earn him another trip to the counsellor. He scribbled over his words, ignoring the way his breath caught as if he were choking. Fuck, was he about to cry?
No. He couldn’t. Travis Phelps did not cry. He refused to. He wasn’t some stupid weak kid who cried in the bathroom over love letters, was he? He definitely didn’t want to be. But he’d barely noticed the way his back slid down the bathroom wall or the stupid lump in the back of his throat or the harsh burning feeling behind his eyes.
Travis stared at the page, reading it to himself over and over.
“I know we don’t really know each other and you probably don’t like hate have your opinions of me. I thought maybe if I told you how I feel, things could be different. The truth is, I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m crazy about you. I think you’re amazing! But I know these feelings I have are wrong. It’s not the way I a boy should feel. Shame swallows me whole, just writing these words. My father would kill me but I can’t live in his shadow forever. I just want to be free from everything he says I hate it so much I hate how he feels I hate what he tells me and i hate that i can’t hate you no matter how badly i want to i just wish this could be easier to say i wish it was so much easier i wish i couldjusttellyoueverythingtellyouhowifeelaboutyouandhowfuckingsorryiamfor ”
Good enough. He’d gotten his point across clearly—well, clearly enough for a note he’d probably throw into the trash within five minutes. No way was he giving anybody something this personal.
But on the off chance that he found it… It was a small chance, sure, but what did Travis have to lose? Their relationship was already as bad as it could get. It wasn’t like he was risking anything.
“ I like ”
No, that was stupid.
“ I like don’t hate ”
God, that was even worse.
“I like don’t hate love you”
That was better. Travis hated saying it, but it was better.
“I like don’t hate love you, Sal Fisher”
There. He said it. He was in love with Sal. This wasn’t good. This was…it was really bad. Travis wanted to kick himself. This was totally pointless. If anyone found this, his dad would hate him, his family would hate him, God would hate him, Sal—
Fuck. Sal would hate him so much, more than he already must. Travis was fine with Sal hating him for being an asshole, but the thought of Sal hating him for being…for feeling that way…Travis didn’t know what he’d do.
Travis stood up, crumpling the note in his hand and throwing it at the trash can, ignoring the pounding in his head as he felt hot tears on his cheeks. Why was he crying? This was such a stupid thing to be crying over. He just had to get it together and he could go. He couldn’t let anyone see him like this. Oh no, was that someone outside? Shit. Travis grabbed his backpack, rushing into an empty stall and pushing the door closed behind him. He stared underneath the stall door, sighing in relief. Whoever came in had completely ignored him, and left within minutes.
Travis sat down in his stall, burying his face in his hands. Okay, Travis, just give it a minute. Just wait until you calm down and then you can go. Nobody has to know you’re a faggot. Just get up and go to class and—who just opened the door?
Travis’s eyes moved back to the ground, searching for any sign of who’d just come in. Unfortunately, whoever it was must’ve decided that the sinks were particularly interesting. Travis had no idea what was going on, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He’d seen some weird stuff going on in school bathrooms.
Some faint noise came from outside Travis’s stall, sounding vaguely like paper crumpling, accompanied by slight tapping—shoes, maybe?
“Hm, what’s—”
Oh no. Someone must’ve found the note. Travis was seriously fucked.
“Oh. Oh, um. That…” Whoever was outside cleared their throat. “What does this…uh.”
They must be reaching the bottom of the note soon. Shit, that was bad. They would find out about Travis, and they’d probably tell the school, who’d tell the counsellor, and his dad would find out, and—
“I…uh, something something…lov—oh.” The noise outside the stall completely stopped for a moment, apart from a soft whooshing noise followed by what were definitely footsteps. Travis pulled his bag to his chest, hugging it tightly.
“Is, uh, anyone in there?”
Oh no. Travis knew he’d recognized that voice somewhere. This was the worst possible end result.
Travis cleared his throat. “Obviously. Now fuck off!”
“Travis? Is that…were you just crying?”
“What? S-Sally Face? I—of course not! Why would I be—can’t I get some privacy?” Travis made a face when his voice cracked. This really wasn’t going well.
Sal sighed, leaning against the wall. “Why do you…hate me?”
“Oh, come on. You and your…friends…you’re a bunch of homos! Why shouldn’t I hate you? It’s—it’s not right.” It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right for anyone to be…like that. Especially not Travis. His dad was a fucking pastor, for God’s sake. How could he still be a faggot?
Sal laughed softly. “You know we’re not all gay, right? Well, uh, some of us are, actually. Like Todd. Todd is super gay. But that’s who he is, and I think that’s amazing. I don’t know how anyone could hate Todd.”
“Are you?”
“What?”
“You know.” Travis fidgeted with the zipper of his backpack, swallowing hard. “Are you also…you know. A faggot?”
“Am I a…” Sal went quiet for a minute. “Is your father pushing his opinions onto you? Is that why…”
“What? Just because my dad’s a preacher doesn’t mean he owns me.” Travis laughed, hoping it didn’t sound too forced. “I’m my own person, you know, Sally Face!”
“Yeah, but…well…you just seem so unhappy.” Sal slid his back down the wall, sitting on the floor against Travis’s stall. “Are you sure he’s not putting too much pressure on you or anything? I’m sure it’s hard being his son—he’s very, um, intense.”
Travis took a shaky breath, staring at the blue Converse on the other side of the door. “You…you have no idea what it’s like.”
“I’m sorry, man.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Sally Face. I don’t need your pity.”
“Right.” Sal tapped his fingers on the bathroom floor. “We don’t have to be enemies, you know. I don’t think you’re a bad guy, Travis. I think you’re just…I don’t know, scared. To be yourself or something. And I can understand that.”
Travis nodded slowly. Fuck, why was Sal being so nice? Travis had been nothing but an asshole, and now Sal was acting like this? There definitely had to be something weird going on.
Sal took a breath before continuing. “Hey, if you ever need to talk to someone or just get away or whatever, you can always hang out with me.”
“Why…why are you so nice to me?” Travis tried to ignore how tight his throat felt and how wobbly his voice was.
“Like I said, I don’t think you’re a bad person.”
“I, uh…” Travis rubbed his eyes. The stupid burning feeling had come back, and he did not want to cry for the second time that day. “You know, I don’t really hate you as much as it seems like I do.”
“Yeah, I didn’t really think you did.” Sal paused for a minute, trying to think of what to say. “Uh, I probably should’ve mentioned this sooner but I kind of have to ask. When I came in, I found a note on the floor addressed to me. I probably shouldn’t have read it, now that I think about it—it seemed kind of personal—but…did you write it?”
Travis’s eyes immediately widened. Shit, did Sal know? Was his handwriting that obvious? And would Sal care if he admitted to it? Sal had been so nice during their whole conversation. Would that change if he found out? He probably didn’t want anyone to like him, especially not Travis. Would Sal leave and tell everyone? Would he tell everyone about Travis and how stupid he’d sounded? Travis, the pastor’s fucking flamer son who cried in bathrooms and wrote love notes to boys who wouldn’t give a shit about him if they knew what he was like. He couldn’t just say he wrote it. That was way too big of a risk.
“No, of course I didn’t write it! Why would I write that sort of thing—why would I write a love note of all things? And why would I write it to you ? I…I don’t know, maybe you should ask one of your friends.” Travis took a deep breath. He was really fucking this up. “But I wanted to tell you that, well…I’m sorry I’ve been like this. An asshole, I mean. You don’t deserve that.”
“Wow, that means a lot. It really does, I mean it. Thank you.” Sal slowly stood up. “Even if you didn’t write the note, you know where to find me if you ever want a friend, or if you want to talk about anything. Anything at all, I won’t mind. And if you do know who wrote it, could you tell them that I’ll be outside my building all day if they want to talk about it?”
“Don’t push it, Sally Face.”
“Right. Well, thanks anyway. And if you need anything, let me know.”
Travis stared under the stall door until Sal’s blue Converse disappeared from his line of sight and he heard the door close. That certainly hadn’t gone as badly as it could’ve. At least Travis had after-school plans now.