Operation Sal | Sally Face x Travis Phelps

2

   Two days passed before Sal finally spoke to him again. Travis was sitting at his desk in Algebra at the time, thumping his foot on the ground anxiously as he stared down at his hands.

  On the blackboard were words he loathed settling his eyes upon with every fiber of his being, spelled out boldly and in white chalk. There was a pop quiz today. On what? Projectile motion? Who fucking knew?

You could've told Travis it was on quite literally anything, and he would've accepted it to be true. He didn't have a single clue what was going on in math class.

Similarly, he didn't have any idea that someone was standing right behind him.

Travis jolted violently at the feeling of a gentle tap on his shoulder. Whipping his head around, his blood went cold at the sight of Sal's emotionless, plastic face staring back at him.

Travis nearly gasped, eyes wide and panicked. His chest tightened, and his stomach churned with anxiety.

Normally, Travis would've noticed Sal Fisher walking into class immediately. In fact, he was very conscious of Sal's existence relative to his own at all times.

But today, he had not noticed Sally Face walking through the classroom door, and he certainly did not notice the blue-haired boy creep up behind him to poke his shoulder. That damn pop quiz had his brain tied up in all types of knots.

"Hey man," Sal's eyes crinkled under the mask, he waved his hand politely, taking notice of Travis's wide, frantic eyes. His fingernails were glossy and coated with black polish.

   His hair was its usual style; pigtails. They swayed with the motion of his head. He was also wearing some sort of t-shirt for a band Travis had never heard of with a long-sleeved shirt underneath.

"I-" Travis sputtered, sitting up rigidly. Why the fuck was Sally Face talking to him? Was he going to say something about the letter on the bathroom floor? Something about the conversation they had? Maybe, he was going to tell him he was uninterested in dating. Travis had never intended to reveal his feelings in the first place, and the thought of legitimately dating a boy made him feel sick to his stomach.

"Uh," He sucked in a breath, dark eyes fluttering open and closed while he tried to come up with a coherent response, "Um- What- What do you want?" It sounded a little more aggressive than he'd intended. He was pretty sure he could hear his own heartbeat.

Sal seemed to pick up on his unfortunate, accidental hostility because his shiny blue eyes widened and he diverted his gaze for a moment, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear as if it would help him think more efficiently. He shifted from one leg to another, "Oh, I was just saying good morning is all." He said softly as if it was totally normal for him to do so. His voice was quiet and slightly muffled by his prosthetic.

"Oh," Travis's hands trembled and he stared down at the floor as Sal's crystal eyes continued to bore holes into the side of his face. He was anticipating a response. Travis knew that. He wasn't sure if he could trust his voice to reply. The words felt heavy in the back of his throat and in the end, he just swallowed and nodded.

Sal began to meticulously pick at the skin on his fingers. Travis pretended that he wasn't watching him do so out of the corner of his eye, his head down as Sally Face glanced out the window.

    "There's going to be a snowstorm or something soon, I think," Sal noted calmly, eyes narrowed as he stared off in the direction of the trees in the courtyard, "but they're having trouble pinpointing when."

   Travis fought the indescribably strong urge to ask why he was even talking to him about this, why he was talking to him at all. Instead, he offered another stiff nod and screamed at himself internally.