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Travis felt like he was bleeding again. Like he did in the past, when his father beat him to the ground until he was nothing but a pile of bones to be disposed of. Broken and useless, a disgrace to God.
He couldn’t stop thinking and his brain was running in circles and images of his father standing over him in all power were flashing pictures in his brain. Him holding a broken beer bottle, standing over his son ready to make him bleed, eyebrows furrowed, his fist wound up ready to throw the punch again. The thoughts wouldn’t go away.
The big hands that threw him around, knobby and strong that pushed him to the ground and pointed in his face, yelling in that foreign, scratchy, deep voice. The hands that pulled and forced and dragged, the hands that hurt. They always hurt. He couldn’t stop thinking.
Tears, hot and steady, were streaming down his face as he was curled up in a tightly wound ball in bed, clinging to the sheets with his long, skinny, scarred fingers. He couldn’t stop thinking. He stared, deafeningly at the closed door in front of him
His father would be walking right through that door any minute now. He was ready for him to walk in and call him worthless and a pussy and a faggot and he was ready for him to bash his face in like he always did.
Travis was ready for his father to turn him into a sobbing, throbbing, bleeding mess, laying on his bed and withering away because he was a disappointment and his father needed to get his anger out. He needed to take it all out on his son, spitting despicable names at him, hands rough and angry and veiny and ugly.
When Travis heard the front door open from just outside the closed door, his heart jumped to his throat. He gulped it back down. He was ready to take the beating. He had to be. His tears were still pouring from the corners of his eyes but he couldn’t stop them. They’d make his beating worse.
“I’m home.” called a deep and muffled voice and Travis let out a choked sob. He wanted to die right there. He could take it. He could take the hands one more time.
When the golden door knob twisted, he nearly screamed. He couldn’t do this, not again. He didn’t want to bleed anymore. He didn’t want to ache. The hands.
“Travis?” Said the voice; and he buried his face into the pillow, chanting “no, no, no” and his voice was hoarse and he didn’t want to bleed again.
“Travis, it’s me. Hey.” A heavy weight plopped onto the bed with him and his whole body tensed. He was still whispering hopeless prayers to himself, asking God to not make him hurt, just this once. His mind was spinning and his whole body was tense and he was waiting for the hands to collide with his body.
“Travis. Hey, can you look at me?” The voice was soft and he was tempted to turn around, but he knew it’d be a trick.
“It’s Sal, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Sal? Who is Sal?
He turned around slowly, his face warm and wet. He was met with a familiar face, but it was distorted. The face was blurry and white and it was hovering over him and this person was going to hurt him.
“Please don’t hurt me.” He cried out in a trembling voice. He couldn’t hurt again.
“Trav, honey. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s Sal, okay? I’m not here to hurt you.” The voice was quiet and it felt far away.
He could feel his heartbeat in his mouth. Sal. He stared at the deadpan face in front of him. It made him scared, the deafening eyes staring at Travis with concern.
Then he remembered, his vision clearing a little. Blue hair, white mask. Long hair that wrapped his shoulders and hands that didn’t hurt.
“Sal?” Travis choked.
“Yes. Sal. That’s me.” And Sal reached behind his head and Travis flinched and whimpered. But nothing happened and the mask fell from Sal’s face. “See? It's me. You know me.”
It was a pale and scarred face. He recognized it. He stared at the worried expression on that face and his brain couldn’t catch up with what was happening, his heart was still thrumming fast and tears were still coming down, hot and steady.
“Can I touch you, Travis? I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.”
Travis gripped a little tighter onto the sheets and nodded his head, ready for a beating if that’s what he was gonna get. But it wasn't. The hands just laid gently on his waist and rubbed up and down, gently.
“Sal.” Travis tried.
“Yes, that’s me. I’m not going to hurt you.” And he slowly reached his hand for Travis’ face and he waited for the impact but the hand just brushed his long hair out of his face and wiped his tears that were still pouring.
“Can you try taking a deep breath?” Sal spoke, soft and quiet. The voice was familiar.
Travis let out the breath he was holding, shakily.
“Good,” Sal soothed, still running his fingers through his hair. “Do you want to sit up?”
And the man sat up, slowly, hands shaking a little, sobs still escaping his lips.
“Can I hug you?” Sal’s face was determined and sad and he kept his hand on Travis’ bicep.
Travis responded by letting his head fall into the other man’s shoulder.
“Hey,” And he shushed the crying man lightly. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
The blue hair smelled like sweat and vanilla and he took another deep breath in. Sal. He knew Sal. He’s known Sal for years. He’d know the smell of his hair and the look of his face anywhere. The hands that didn’t hurt.
“Sal.” He repeated, and he nuzzled his head into his shoulder, the sobs getting stronger now, tears falling into Sal’s shirt, wet and hot.
Sal hummed, holding Travis tightly, grounding him. “It’s me and we’re in our room in our apartment, okay? I’m here and no one is going to hurt you.”
His brain searched for a response but he couldn’t form any coherent thoughts.
“Father. When is father coming home?” His voice panicked and he backed away from Sal frantically.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Sal reached out to hold Travis again, pulling him in tightly.
“He’s gonna- When he…I-“
Sal shushed his sobs gently, carding his fingers through Travis’ greasy hair. “He’s not coming here, Trav, he’s gone, okay? Gone for good. We’re far away from him. You live with me and you're safe. I got you.”
The circles being rubbed on his back were determined to bring him back down to earth. “He’s gone?”
“Yes, honey. We are far away from him.” Sal repeated.
Travis’ breaths were shaky and tired and his thoughts were still dazed as he tried to pull his thoughts back to the present, the persistent color of red drilling his brain.
“It’s okay,” Sal was soothing him and his breaths were starting to get slower but the tears were still coming down steadily.
“I’m sorry.” Travis choked out, gripping the back of Sal’s shirt and burying his face deeper into his neck.
“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m here for you. You're safe.” Sal pulled him into a proper hug, arms wrapped fully around his body.
Sal then pulled back a little from Travis, prompting him to look him in the eyes.
“Hey,” He soothed.
Travis looked around the room now, posters littering the walls and a tv in the corner. There were no crosses on the walls and there were no bloodied tissues on the nightstand. The lights were dim from the small lamp across the room and there Sal was, in all beauty, his bright eyes staring right back at his boyfriend. He knew Sal and he loved Sal. He wasn’t going to hurt him. They lived happily together, hours from Nockfell. His father wasn’t going to hurt him. Not today.
Travis let out a shaky breath, trying to keep in any cries that would come out of his mouth. Sal caressed his face, ever so gently. Gentle hands that were never going to hurt him.
“Wanna talk about it?” His voice was quiet and calm and patient.
“I just- My thoughts wouldn’t stop, they kept going back to… him.” He tried to hold in the tears but they left his eyes, determined.
“I understand.” He continued to thumb at the tears that threatened to escape his eyes, holding his face so gently like it’d break.
Of course he understood, if anyone could understand it’d be him.
“But Travis, honey, it’s okay. He can’t hurt you from here I promise. We’re far, far away from him.”
“But he-“
Sal cut him off with a hush. “He’s not going to hurt us Travis. He can’t. And if he, by some miracle, finds us and tries to hurt us, we can take it to the police, okay? You're not a kid anymore, you don’t have to be stuck under his will.”
Travis swallowed thickly. He wanted to believe him, he really did, but that angry, obeying voice in his head kept clawing at his stomach, telling him that his father was going to take everything from him, once again.
“I don’t want him to hurt you. Again.” He nearly mumbled.
“He won’t. I swear.” And he brought his boyfriend back into a tight hug, holding his head close to him and placed a gentle kiss on his hair.
“If he found us, Sal, he’d do everything in his power to get rid of you.” His voice was scratchy and his heart was hurting too much.
“He’s not gonna find us, love.” and Travis melted a little bit, back into the welcoming arms. “I won’t let him hurt you or me again, okay?”
For a second he believed him and his heart steadied. Travis let out a few long breaths, tears subsiding a little as he let Sal pet his hair and shush his whimpers. He had gentle hands that danced along Travis’ hairline and down his shoulder. His hands could never hurt.
“Thank you, Sal. You’re too good to me.” He muttered into the shoulder, voice still raw.
“Hey, don’t say that. You deserve comfort, okay? Someone to take care of you.” Sal ran his hands up and down Travis’ slouched back. “How about we lay down?”
Travis fell backwards slowly, letting his head hit the pillow. Sal followed by placing his head atop Travis’ shoulder, warm body nuzzled close. Travis felt a gentle graze of ripped lips on his cheek and he let out a heavy sigh.
“It’ll be okay, Travis. I promise.” Sal’s long, gentle fingers fell to his waist.
The blonde twisted his head to look at Sal, who’s scarred face was fond and covered by his bright blue hair. Travis reached out and brushed it out of the way, letting his hands run over the chapped skin of his face. His heart swelled and he turned his body and leaned in.
Travis placed his lips on the broken ones, because he could. He was allowed to. No one was going to hurt him for loving this man.
Sal returned the kiss with a gentle push and placed a hand to rest on Travis’ soft, tan face. When he pulled away, Sal brought him in close to his chest, holding onto him tightly, reassuring.
“Let’s get some sleep, okay?” Sal’s voice was grounding and he reached over and switched the light off and immediately returned to hold onto his boyfriend.
Travis closed his eyes that were a little strained now, and buried his face into Sal’s chest, smelling like vanilla and cinnamon. He was warm and he took Travis’ hand into his own while his other carded through his hair ever so gently.
He listened to the gentle breathing of Sal, his heartbeat steady and loud and real matched with Travis’ persistent thrumming. It made his body feel warm and whole.
“Goodnight, Travis. I love you.” The voice was sweet and kind and Travis couldn’t help but smile.
“Love you, too. Night, Sally.”
The two men tangled their legs together, buried under a few blankets, their bodies warm and Travis’ heart was finally warm again; healed.
The gentle shine of the moon peeked through their window and Travis kept his eyes on Sal’s hands placed gently underneath Travis’ scarred ones. He couldn’t help but feel grateful, heart full and he was so thankful for the reassuring thought that he’d never hurt again. This man would never hurt him and he wouldn’t let anyone else hurt him either.
Hands that protect.
The continuous run of fingers along his hair made Travis sleepy and the arms enveloping him kept him so warm and safe.
Hands that love.
He knew he was safe in these arms. He always has been and he always will be. They will hold him until cannot be held any longer.
Hands that heal.
And Travis fell asleep to that steady heartbeat, watching those blushed fingertips run along Travis’ arms, keeping him so close, so safe, far from harm, full of the thought that he was loved by this man. He was so loved and no one was going to hurt him anymore.