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Sal Fisher. The boy in school that Travis hated the most. He didn't know why he hated him. Maybe it was the obnoxiousness of his electric blue hair or the mask that he wore to cover his face. The way he expressed himself so freely, maybe that was what he hated the most. He played the guitar, an instrument that Travis' father had told him was satanic. He listened to metal music, which was undoubtedly even more satanic. He had friends and people that looked out for him, which Travis had none of, mainly because he was prone to taking out his anger on beating people up. Maybe it was his way of being strong and intimidating for once, a support that he never felt at home with his father constantly inflicting the same violence onto him. Maybe the reason that he hated Sal Fisher is because he secretly wished he could be truly himself as he was.
But if Travis hated Sal Fisher, then why did he envy him? Why did his heart beat faster every time he was near and why did he constantly feel the need to impress him with stupid fights just to get his attention? Why did he stare so intensely at him and his friends when they walked by him in the cafeteria? These were all questions that Travis asked himself as he stared at the back of Sal's head instead of doing his math work. As Mrs Packerton droned on about Pythagoras, he stared at Sal's messy blue mop of hair from his seat behind him. Sal's hair was bright blue and long- always tied up into puffy pigtails to keep them out of his face or let down in a shoulder-length shaggy mullet, like today. It was long and disheveled, the complete opposite of Travis' neat, pristine blond hair. Not a hair was ever out of place on his head, always perfectly brushed and washed and clean, much like Travis himself. His sweater fit too perfectly and not a single thread was loose, no stains or holes and perfectly ironed. His shoes were still the same colour as when he bought them: bright green with no scuffs or dirt as he made a habit of scrubbing them clean every night before bed. He was always perfect and presentable, a clean purple sweater and blue shorts, his green sneakers and always a golden cross necklace dangling on his chest. Sal Fisher was so far out of his world, and he secretly craved him for that.
Travis had always thought about telling Sal about how he felt for him, but he always chickened out last minute, meaning that even today there was no hope for him. He looked down at his empty math worksheet, flipping it over and taking out his pen to scrawl on the back in his messy, lopsided handwriting.
"I know we don't know each other and you probably 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 are wrong and it's not how a boy should feel. Shame swallows me whole. My father would kill me but i can't live in his shadow forever I just-"
Travis stopped in his tracks. Every time he got to this part, reality started to dawn on him that while his father was still alive, he could never, ever come out. i mean, he would literally kill him. He groaned, scribbling angrily at the bottom of the paper What was he thinking anyways? He could never even give this to Sal, he was too scared. Scared that he would tell someone, or scared...that he actually might feel the same way.
When the bell rang, Travis scrunched up the paper and placed it in his pocket, moping towards the boy's bathrooms. He swung the door open and leaned against the filthy looking sinks, staring at himself in the mirror and sighing at his reflection as he took the balled up piece of paper in his hand and aggressively launched it at the trash can, tears already starting to well in his eyes.
He ran into the furthest cubicle from the door, slamming the door shut and just standing there, tears streaming down his face as he wiped away every last one with the back of his hand. His caramel coloured skin turned red and bloodshot at the eyes and cheeks with the salt from his tears. He made no sound, not even a quiet sniffle, so as not to be heard crying in the school bathrooms of all places. He silently took a piece of scratchy toilet paper and wiped his running nose, which was doing more harm than good at making his nose red and sore.
After he had finished his lunch, Sal Fisher went into the boys bathroom. As he was walking in, past the sinks, he saw a scrunched up paper ball sitting just outwith the trash can. Not abnormal in any way, but Sal was a curious guy, and apparently one who picks up trash from bathroom floors today. Plus, he could see some messy handwriting across the bottom, so he knew it was a note. He picked it up and unraveled it, reading the messy scrawl of handwriting written across the crumpled page. He was intrigued. Who wrote this? Who was it for? It was obviously from a boy to another, but the only gay guy Sal knew was Todd. He looked at the note, confused. Just then, Travis' body decided to betray him, letting out a small, embarrassing whimper and a sniffle through tears, just loud enough to echo through the bathroom for Sal to hear. Great.
Travis swore to himself quietly, clamping a hand over his mouth in shame.
Sal quietly crept over to the source of the sound, seeing that the last cubicle door was closed. From the gap, he saw a pair of bright, clean, green shoes peeking out of the cubicle, which he immediately recognized as Travis Phelps. Maybe next time you want to have a crying session in the school bathroom, wear less recognizable shoes, Travis.
Sal sighed. He had a mutual disliking for Travis Phelps after he had punched him across the face last week, but he was still a decent human being.
"Travis? Is that you?.."
Travis froze, groaning quietly to himself and facepalming. He could tell who it was from his voice. Sal Fisher, damn you.
"No duh, Fuckwad, buzz off!"
Travis didn't want to be caught crying, especially not by Sal. Absolutely not.
"Were you just...crying a second ago?"
Of course he'd heard him. Just Travis' luck to be caught by the very reason why he was crying in the first place.
"Sally Face! Can't a guy get some privacy in here?"
He grunted through the last of his tears, trying to make his voice not waver at the thought of embarrassing himself in front of Sal.
"Travis...its okay to cry, you know."
Of course he'd say that. Of course he'd be so nice and kind. It really wasn't helping Travis' situation that Sal was being so kind to him in his moment of peril. He was so kind to everyone, it made Travis sick to his stomach.
"Yeah, for queers, fuck off and leave me alone!"
Sal sighed and kicked his foot on the bathroom floor.
"Travis, why do you hate me so much anyway?"
Travis raised his voice, still trying to convince Sal to leave him alone to cry in peace.
"Because you and your dumb friends are a bunch of homos. It's sick. God will never love you, so why should I?"
Sal frowned.
"You now we all are actually gay, right? Well, besides for Todd. Todd's super gay."
There was a pause where Travis stood not knowing what to say, before Sal spoke up again
"It must suck, with your dad and all...not being able to be yourself must suck."
"What would you know, Sally Face. You don't know anything about me or my life."
Travis snorted back.
He sniffled again, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand.
"Travis...I do know what it's like. More than you know. I'm just saying...if you ever need anyone to talk to...I'm here. Even though we have our differences, I'm still here for you, anytime."
"Just fuck off, alright? I'm not crying. I'm just taking a piss, so get outta here."
Travis sniffled. Sal saw right through his lies and didn't move an inch away from the door.
"Travis, please, come out here. We can talk. You don't have to hate me just because your religion says so. Do you even believe half the things they say? Or are you just doing this to make your dad happy."
Travis paused. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Sal was right. He thought half of the cultist bullshit in that church was nonsense. So why was he still doing this act? Well,he knew why.
Travis sighed, slowly sliding the lock on the door and the bathroom door creaked open, leaving him face to face with Sal. He didn't understand it. why was he being so nice to him? Was it out of curiosity? Pure spite? He didn't know anymore.
He stepped out of the cubicle, and the shorter boy leaned up to wrap two slender arms around him at the waist. Travis's eyes widened before closing again. He didn't want to doubt anything at the minute. And plus it felt nice, it had been years since anyone had hugged him, or delivered any physical attention except a punch to the face.
"He...He hits me. My dad."
Travis blurted out, tears welling in his eyes again. But Sal didn't gasp or pull away or threaten to tell an adult. He just stayed and rubbed Travis's back gently, not saying a word as all of Travis's thoughts began to spill from his head and into his mouth as if his brain had turned to a sloppy mush.
"You don't know how hard it is, not being yourself. I have to hide who I am from everyone because if my dad found out, I'd be dead. I don't like the stupid church or the bible. I'm gay. I know I am. But I can't be. I don't hate you or your stupid friends."
He sobbed into Sal's shoulder as his pale, slender fingers ran up and down his spine.
Travis couldn't do it anymore, it was all too much. He leaned back his head to look at Sal, his pretty caramel coloured cheeks pink and raw with tears. He looked at the boy in front of him, the one he had loved for so long, with no chance of ever being with him. All of his secrets were already on the line, so what's the point in one more? He stared at Sal, thinking about being the one to touch his hair or feel the soft skin of his arms around him.
"Travis, I do know what it's like. I understand how you feel more than you know."
Travis stared into the gaps in Sal's mask through to where his eyes were. Travis had never noticed, he'd never been so close, as to notice that Sal had one glass eye. His remaining eye was a beautiful, bright blue colour shining through his mask.
Travis couldn't take it any longer. He lifted up the bottom portion of Sal's mask, quickly capturing his lips in a swift kiss. Sal didn't pull away.
He could never had imagined the sensory input of kissing Sal. The right side of his mouth was an empty hole, showing his teeth, and what remained of the right side of his lips was rough and scarred. But Travis didn't care. All he cared about was that he was finally kissing Sal Fisher.