𝘐'𝘮 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘖𝘶𝘵 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘠𝘰𝘶 - 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘷𝘪𝘴

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐲𝐭𝐞𝐬 - 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

Travis Phelps.
The self-renounced bully of Nockfell High.
The preacher's son.
What wasn't to love about his life?
Well, Travis could name about 100,000 things that weren't to love.
In fact, he could even say that he hated these things, but being hateful wasn't exactly acceptable in the eyes of God, so Travis wasn't going to take chances.

  Aside from thinking too much, Travis's morning was mostly, what he would consider, normal. Sinful dreams of a certain blue haired boy, (that of which he would have to cleanse himself of later on in the day,) being forcefully woken up by his father, taking a shower, brushing his teeth, and getting dressed. Unfortunately, today he would have to dress a bit.. differently.

  The night before his beloved purple sweater had been stained with various, sickly shades of red that had leaked from his body when his father slammed him into the bathroom door, because he found his journal.

  What was in the journal, you ask? Poetry. Poetry dedicated to his forbidden crush. Not only was poetry frowned upon in Travis's house, considering it was "feminine," but his poetry also contained his secret.

Y'know,

  The one about him being in love with the kid he bullies?

No.

Travis wasn't in love.

Being in love was mutual.

Sal hated Travis.

Didn't he?

  "TRAVIS! I've been calling you for 20 minutes, boy! Get out of that damned shower, and get dressed for school!" Kenneth yelled from outside the bathroom door, interrupting Travis, who was zoned out. "Yes, father!" Travis answered back, as cheerfully as possible, as to avoid another beating.

Travis aggressively rinsed the conditioner out of his rough bleached hair, and immediately winced when he hit the newly-opened gash from last night's "incident," forcing it open and leak more blood.

  "Shit." Travis muttered, stepping out of the shower and drying himself off, trying his best to avoid pulling the wound open more as he dried his hair. He slipped on a black hoodie and faded blue jeans, avoiding his normal green sneakers and deciding on a pair of faded black hightop-converse instead.

  He stepped out of his room quietly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Goodbye, Father. I'll be taking the bus today," Travis barely whispered, under the eyes of his clearly tired parental figure. "Alright then, Travis. Carry on, and hand these out today." He said, handing Travis a stack of church pamphlets, that of which he shoved into his cheap cloth bag and walked out to the bus stop, where he spotted a hooded person with electric blue hair.

  Thinking nothing of the person, he stood calmly next to him, noticing the figure tense up in his presence. 'Weird.' Travis was confused at the sudden discomfort, as he eyed the person whip out their phone and text someone. He then recognized the black hoodie, red ripped jeans, torn converse, and electric blue hair to be none other than the boy he had texted last night, in the midst of the ambulance ride to the hospital after the incident; Sal Fisher.

  Travis's eyes widened as he sped-walked to the nearest bench, sneaking a glimpse at Sal's face before he turned away. A scar lined the right side of his face, exposing his teeth, as well as several other smaller scars scattered around his face. Not long after, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Larry Johnson walking up to Sal and handing him what looked like his.. prosthetic.. thing.

Wait.

What he had seen - just now - was Sal's actual face.

Without his prosthetic.

  Travis decided to try not to think about it too much, and proceeded to put in his earbuds, as well as hit shuffle on his playlist. Now, while the average person may think Travis only listens to church hymns, they would instead be surprised to hear what the boy listens to; Indie rock. Almost immediately, Trees II by McCafferty started playing.

  Sal and Larry's heads snapped towards Travis, as he soon realized that his headphones weren't fully plugged in. The boy fumbled with his headphone jack, forcefully pushing it in. Travis sighed in relief, before jerking when the music starting playing again; his phone was at full volume.

  As the bus screeched to a stop in front of him, Travis ripped out his earbuds and frantically turned the volume down, swinging his backpack over his right shoulder and rushing into the back of the bus. The entire bus was full, except for one seat;

The one right next to Sal and Larry.

  Ash was seated right in front of Sal and Larry, sitting with the grey-haired girl, who was across from who Travis could only assume was her boyfriend, the green-haired kid. The ginger was sitting with his boyfriend in the front of the bus, across from where he usually sat. The kid who usually sits in the seat that Travis was sitting in, had seemingly swapped with Travis, sitting with the ginger and his boyfriend.

  Larry was giving Travis a dirty look, but Travis honestly couldn't care less; he was too dizzy to give a fuck. The bus screeched to a stop once more, and kids started flooding out in mobs; everyone desperately attempting to get to their first periods on time. Travis, now listening to "Freaks" by Surf Curse, stepped out of the bus feeling like a character from a coming-of-age film. His converse hit the ground, and-

Black.

Travis had blacked out.

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