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Sal hasn’t been at school all day.
He’s never skipped before and never had a sick day, the only time he’s missed school was when I broke his nose.
“You’re grinding your teeth again.” Larry perks up from next to me. Ever since I started dating Sal, Larry's been surprisingly nice to me, I might even consider him a friend? That’s weird to think about, that someone like me could have a friend like him.
“Am I?” I take a bite of my sandwich. “What’s up?” Larry questions, flicking his long brown hair away of his eyes.
“I dunno, I guess I’m a bit worried about Sal is all”
I see a smile creep up Larry’s cheeks, showing off the gap between his teeth.
“You really care about him, don’t you?” my face flushes.
It’s been 3 months since I started seeing Sal Fisher. The freak, the fag. I know it’s a sin, I know that when Father finds out he’ll disown me. I don’t care. Sal is the only good thing in my life right now, and I’m going to take care of him as long as I can.
“D’you have a key to his house? I have an art class after school but I’ll give you my key so you can check on him if you want.”
“..Thanks”
“Of course dude.” Larry beams, handing me a small ring of keys.
Friends.
***
I stand before the door of 402. Sal’s apartment. I don’t know why I’m nervous, I’ve been here a thousand times, but this time, I don’t know if he’s okay, or even if he’s in there.
I open the door.
Mr. Fisher isn’t usually home this early, but all the lights are on. He’s here. Sal’s alive. He’s fine.
I turn to Sal’s room but stop before the doorknob, muffled sobs come through from the other side.
“Sal?” I say with a trembling voice, I’m taken back to the first time he caught me having a panic attack in the school bathroom, the roles are reversed now.
“Travis? What are you doing here?” Yep, he’s definitely been crying. Fuck.
“You’ve missed school and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’m coming in.”
“No! Don’t!” Sal yelps from the other side as I pull open the door.
I throw up.
Not really, just a bit in my mouth, from the sight of my boyfriend crouched on the ground, bandages wrapped poorly around his arms, with blood seeping through and an exacto-knife laying beside him.
His room isn’t any better, clothes piled on his chair and floor, energy drinks and plates stacked everywhere. Seeing him like this, so small, makes me want to cry.
I rush to him, and he digs his face into my chest, sobbing.
“What happened?” I ask, stroking his hair and trying not to start sobbing myself.
“I-I relapsed. Everything just got too much and I got the urge. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have I-” I cut Sal off by shushing him.
“You’re okay, everything's gonna be okay. Can I see the cuts?” Sal wipes his eyes under his prosthetic and nods. I lightly grab his wrists, making sure not to press too hard and remove the bandages, which look like they were put on with shaking hands. They probably were.
I kiss his forehead and rush to the bathroom to get some disinfectant and wetwipes, I know exactly where it all is. Sal has treated my wounds far too many times for my liking, but at least he bothers to take care of me. Unlike Father, who leaves me, crying on the ground, shuddering in pain and covered in blood, to “clean myself up for church.”
When I get back, Sal is sitting on his bed with his knees tucked into his chest. I sit down beside him, waiting for him to let me see his arms again.
“Do you wanna tell me what happened?” I ask as I apply the disinfectant to the fresh cuts.
“I’m gonna start crying again..” He sniffles.
“That’s fine, you’ve seen me cry loads of times.”
He tells me everything, about how he and his dad got into a fight, and that he’d had too much pressure with school and everything, how he was having such bad dysphoria and he didn’t feel like a boy and he just couldn’t take it anymore, and how he just spiralled after that. He tells me all this as I treat his wounds, trying and failing not to cry myself.
“Sal, you know I love you right? I don't care if you weren’t always a boy, you are now and I love you no matter what. You know you can tell me when things like this happen right? You don’t need to keep it a secret.”
“I know, it’s just- I don’t want to add to your own problems.” That breaks me.
“Don’t worry about that. Don’t ever worry about that. I have my own problems, sure. But that doesn’t mean I can’t help and support my boyfriend when he needs it. That’s what partners are for.” I pull him close, close enough that his electric blue hair tickles my nose. He tugs at my shirt, sobbing again into my shoulder.
‘How about we watch a movie? I know you’ve been wanting me to watch Ferris Bueller's day off for a while now, and I can make us tea?” Sal looks at me with what I think is a smile under his mask.
He lays down on the bed, and I cuddle next to him. I start the movie as Sal intertwines his fingers with mine. “Thank you” he whispers under his breath. I squeeze his hand. “Always.”
***
Half way through the movie, I realize Sal hasn’t moved in a while and that his breathing has evened out.
“Sal?” I whisper, afraid he might wake up.
“Yeah, I’m awake. I’m tired though I think I’ll take a nap.” He shuffles off my shoulder and stretches.
“Yeah sure, go ahead.” I say, questioning Sal's nervous manner.
“Uh, I’m gonna have to take my mask off..”
“Do you not want me to see?” Somehow, in the 3 months we’ve been dating, I have never seen him without his mask.
“Just- just please don’t freak out.” He slowly unbuckles his mask from the back and looks down after pulling it off.
I’m shocked to say the least.
Not disgusted, not scared, just surprised.
I’ve never really pictured him without his mask on, but I would have never guessed he was missing his nose, or had scars running up and down the right side of his face.
“You think I’m disgusting, don’t you?” He fiddles with his jumper sleeves, anxiously waiting for my reaction.
“Of course not. I like you with or without your mask.” I kiss his scarred cheek lightly, making him flinch slightly, but relax when he realizes I’m not going to hurt him. He exhales, crumpling in my arms.
“Thank you, for- for being here.”
I chuckle “Well thank you for finding my letter and confessing first, I’m glad I have such a great boyfriend.”
Sal leans his head on my shoulder again, getting comfortable for his nap. “Same.”