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Tan hands tangled into blue strands, fingers running through the impossibly soft locks as bodies and lips pressed together, neither of them pulling away until their last breath. Travis watched the other boy end the kiss and bury his face right into his shoulder. Travis panted quietly through his nose, shivering slightly at the feeling of the boy's warm breath against his neck.
Travis cupped the boys face, trying to dislodge him from his position so he could see his face.
"Sal..hey, c'mon.."
"..."
"Sal?"
Travis tilted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of his face, and when he eventually did, he quickly shoved him off with a scream. Sal didn't HAVE a face. It was gone. All of it. Leaving behind only the disgusting red, meaty skin underneath it.
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Travis awoke with a violent jump, hitting his head on his bedframe in the process. He winced in pain and rubbed at his head as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed to tiredly wander into the bathroom, getting ready for another miserable day of school.
As Travis stood under the burning hot spray of the shower's spray, cleaning himself on auto pilot, he started to actually think back on the dream he had, or rather what he could remember from it. Why had he been dreaming about that freak Sally Face? ESPECIALLY in that context? They had been..kissing, if he could recall correctly. That was just as, if not more, disgusting than what Sal's face looked like..well what he imagined it to look like. Not that he should be imagining that either. He shouldn't be thinking of that boy at all.
He needed to get these thoughts out of his head as soon as he possibly could, they were absolutely unacceptable to be having. God would never love him like this. These kinds of thoughts continued to plague his mind for the rest of his shower before he eventually found himself right back at the blade where he usually ended up when he was though too much about stuff he shouldn't.
Travis sat bare on the edge of his bed, blade clutched in one hand as he watched the new wounds on his wrist weep blood onto his thighs. He examined the cuts for a bit, moving his wrist in a way where the cuts would open more, and digging his blade back into the wider cuts, watching them further split open as he did. He stared, fascinated by both the new cuts on his wrists and the way the blood dripped onto his lower body, coating the already apparent cross shaped scars littering them.
Travis thought for a minute before bringing his bloody wrist to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick the blood off before being startled by an aggressive knock at his bedroom door. His father. Who else would it be?
"Yes, father?" Travis called out.
"Travis Phelps. Hurry up. The bus will be here in 10 minutes. If you miss it again you're going to be in deep shit."
"shit- already?!" Travis nervously mumbled under his breath, starting to wipe the blood off him using the towel he had previously used for his shower. The cuts wouldn't stop bleeding so, as he got dressed, he just slapped bandaids on them and hoped to God it wouldn't leak through his sweater at school.
Travis had almost missed the bus again— literally having to run to the bus stop and getting there just as the large yellow vehicle was pulling up. He piled onto the bus with the other kids that had been waiting at his stop, searching the bus for an empty seat.
...The only empty seat left was next to fucking Sal Fisher.
Travis balled his hands up in anger and frustration before reluctantly sitting his ass down next to Sal, praying he wouldn't try to start a conversation with him again as he always did.
"Morning, Travis."
Jesus fucking Christ.
"What do you want Sally Face."
"Jeez, Travis. Who shit in your cereal this morning?"
Travis stared at the back of the seat in front of them, refusing to meet the boy's piercing blue eyes.
"I didn't have cereal this morning."
"It was a figure of speech.."
"I..I know that! Just stop talking to me, fag."
He watched Sal shrug out of the corner of his eye before turning back to his gear boy.
Travis glanced over at Sal occasionally from the corner of his eye before eventually catching himself and staring at his lap instead. Everytime he looked at the freak, it just brought back the memory of the dream he had this morning, and that was the last thing he wanted to think of today..or ever.
Travis sat as normal in his seat during Math, staring at the chalkboard as Mrs Packerton went on and on about whatever it was they were doing. He wasn't really paying attention, he didn't care about school enough. It didn't matter if he failed anyway. No matter what path he took in highschool, he'd just end up being forced to take his father's place in the church.
He shifted and winced silently as his sleeve brushed up agains fresh cuts from this morning..although, he swore he shouldn't be able to feel that, considering he put bandaids over his cuts before he left the house this morning. Slowly mustering up the courage, he glanced down at the part of his sleeve that concealed his self inflicted wounds.
Holy shit.
There was blood slowly soaking through his sleeve. How?? He literally did aftercare specifically to avoid this situation. He immediately raised his non-soaked-sleeve arm to raise his hand and quickly excuse himself to the bathroom, practically sprinting out of the classroom once he was given permission.
Travis stood at that bathroom sink, cursing to himself under his breath as he scrubbed at his sleeve with soap and water. Apparently the bandaids he had deliberately put on had gotten caught on the fabric of his sleeve and got ripped off. Of course it would.
He hadn't even noticed Sal followed him to the bathroom until he looked up at himself in the mirror and saw the other boy standing off the side behind him. The sight almost made him scream in surprise, quickly turning around and tugging his wet sleeve over his arm.
"What the fuck, Sally Face?! Why would you follow me into the bathroom, that's disgusting!"
"I didn't follow you. Well..yeah, maybe I did, but it was for a good cause."
Sal stepped over to him and dug around in his pocket before pulling out a large bandaid and placing it on the bathroom counter.
"I assume you didn't have a bandaid..or that you needed a new one.
Travis stared at him for a moment before picking up the bandaid he was given and throwing it at Sal's mask.
"Is that all you followed me in here for? To give me a bandaid? I don't need it."
"I came to talk to you, as well. To ask if you're..okay. I used to do that too, y'know? I want to help you."
Travis scoffed and turned back to try to scrub the blood off his sleeve.
"I don't want your help, or your pity. Just leave me alone, freak."
"Travis, please let me help you. I won't tell anybody what you're doing. But, as much as you hate me, it hurts to see my classmate suffering. Is it because of the stress of school with finals coming up and all?
"..No it is not. School doesn't stress me out because I don't care about it."
"Did you get into a fight with someone then? Is it because of your father? Did he—"
Travis turned to face him, ears red.
"No, Sal! It's because of YOU. I don't know what's wrong with me! Everytime I see you I get this..this disgusting, odd, feeling inside my stomach. You make me sick! I hate the way you make me feel."
"Are you gay, Travis?"
The blonde boy took a step back, blinking at him.
"Wh—!? No! I'm not a homo like you and the rest of your little friends! The feeling I feel for you is disgust and hatred, not love! Don't get it twisted."
"Sounds like you get butterflies around me."
"No! I don't! Just— ugh! Just go away already!"
Travis turned back to scrub at his sleeve, which was more than soaked with water at this point. He watched Sal unwrap the bandaid he brought for him and place it face down on the bathroom counter before quietly leaving the bathroom.
Once Sal was out of sight, he squeezed the water out of his sleeve and slapped the new bandaid over his irritated cuts and stomped off back to class.