God, Do You Love Me?

Sal's POV: Good-fuckin-mornin

The moment I gained consciousness, I knew Travis was already awake. I could feel his eyes on me. He didn't see my face, did he?

I brought my hands over my face and sat up, peeking through a slit in my fingers. He looked a little confused, like he hadn't expected me to get up so fast, or maybe wondering why I'm still hiding my face.

"Mornin, Travis." I turned away from him and grabbed my glass eye from the bedside stand.

"Good morning, Sally Face." He said, his voice a little nasally. Was he getting a cold?

I clip my mask on and face him. He looked awful. His usually caramel skin was kind of greenish and ashy, his eyes sore, his nose red. "You look sick." I felt his forehead. "You're burning up."

"I feel sick." He says. "My head is killing me."

"Do you want an Ibuprofen?"

"Sure. Sal, what day of the week is it?"

I reply automatically. "Wednesday, why?" And then I realize. "Shit! School! We're late!"

I must have missed it when larry called my walkie talkie. He would normally come up and wake me up, but I'm kind of glad he didn't... I wouldn't know how to explain Travis being here.

That's actually really strange... Why didn't Larry come up here?

I get Travis an Ibuprofen and pick him an outfit. There were these black skinny jeans that were always too big, and my oversized Korn hoodie. He looked cute in my edgy clothes, a little out of place, but it kind of suited him.

"You look good." I smile a little.

He sticks his hands in the pockets. "Thanks. It's comfy."

"Hey, I have to check on something. You can get there without me, can't you?"

"Yeah...actually, I don't really want to show up to school with you, anyway." He said, kind of ashamed.

"Okay. Just...be careful. I hope you feel better."

"I'll be fine."

____

I take the elevator down to Larry's, anxiety in my chest. Something isn't right.

Larry didn't answer his door when I knocked, so I went in, hoping he was just at school already.

He wasn't.

Larry was passed out on the floor in his own vomit. An empty bottle of wiskey in his grip. His usually sunkissed face was pale. Fear surged through me and I ran up to him, shaking his body.

"Larry, Larry wake up!" I shouted at him. He was unresponsive.

"Oh God, please don't die, Larry." I grab him by the arms and drag him across his room, the living room, and into the basement. He was heavy, but the adrenaline made it easier. I pushed him, into the bathtub and turned on the shower, cold.

He jolted awake, and relief washed over me. "Jesus Fuck, Larry. I almost had a heart attack!"

He was still disoriented. "Coooldd bro. Turn it off."

I turn off the shower. "What the hell is wrong with you, man?"

"What are you talking about, Sally dude?" He slurred.

I smack him. "Sober up. Why the hell did you drink that much? Are you trying to kill yourself?"

He was just like my dad. At least my dad got better, at least he's trying again... But Larry... I'm so angry with him. How could he do this to himself?